I suppose if one adhered to the Oxford American Dictionary's definition of a "punk" as someone who is a "worthless" or "inexperienced or insignificant young person," (oh, those priggish limeys) then I guess Wayne Kramer, by definition, wouldn't be a "punk" at all. Yet to many of the MTV age's pampered sons and daughters, Kramer's preoccupation with the ugly details, hypocrisy and general blight in American society may seem just too damn depressing and hyperbolic. Who needs all that defeatist dogma when you've got Nintendo and "Pop Up Videos?" By virtue of the Oxford American Dictionary's definition, friend, you and I are "punks." Brother Wayne, on the other hand, is one of rock's last credible revolutionaries, and our potential savior. The messiah. Testify, and better thyselves, all ye worthless Gen X, net- surfing pansies!

Today you've got former White Panther party guru John "Blind Lemon" Sinclair now harmlessly thwacking a beat-up acoustic guitar at the local internet café, James Kunen has vanished into obscurity, Abbie Hoffman's reduced to useless bones in a box, and former radical Jerry Rubin's now a dead yuppie lawyer. We could use a still- breathing, confrontational '60s radical or two in the '90s, right? Stir some shit up. Tell us the truth about our mystified asses. Lucky for us, Mr. Kramer, stubborn wise-ass crank that he is, refuses to let his ingrained militancy and idealism die-- however unfashionable those qualities may be amidst all the indie rock self- pity and French- fried escapist pop flourishing nowadays.

But let's get to the main issue here: Citizen Wayne and his brand new live album, LLMF. Kramer's only other solo live offering (apart from his work with the MC5) was the much- hyped but ultimately disappointing 1982 made- in- junkie- heaven duet of Kramer and Johnny Thunders entitled Gang War. It really wasn't until Epitaph put out Kramer's 1994 scorcher The Hard Stuff, that the road to career recovery began.

But the appeal of LLMF doesn't lie so much in any radical improvements on the recorded output as much as in Kramer's balls- out guitar virtuosity: his awesome stylistic range encompasses bluesy leads, whirling dervish free- jazz runs, punk- metal power- chording, and burly funk- inflected licks, among other more obscure touches. Believe it or not, kiddos, this fella is one of the last truly great guitar "heroes" still plugging away (gee, remember guitar heroes?). He's one of a select few guitar gods who isn't withered and useless in their old age, dead, or long since replaced by a machine. Conventional musical terminology can't really do justice to his tone and attack. Larger than life urban sounds come to mind-- the shriek of a subway car skidding on its tracks, a jackhammer pounding a city street, wailing police sirens, etc.

Of course, LLMF isn't a perfect album by any means. The cautionary tale of "Junkie Romance" plods, and never really settles into its groove like the original recording; "So Long Hank" is a dragging, stop- start elegy of sorts for booze poet Charles Bukowski. There's also some self- glorifying nostalgia: "Down on the Ground" recounts in detail the MC5's infamous drug- addled gig at the riotous 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago. Kramer does love the sound of his own voice a tad too much-- dig all that measured elocution of his proletariat- free verse on "Poison" and "Bomb Day in Paris." Some of this experiemental spoken word- type stuff hits its mark, other times it just sounds stilted and awkward.

But the true beauty of this record is that Kramer proves he can still rock with the best of 'em. "Bad Seed" from 1994's The Hard Stuff and "Stranger in the House" from 1997's Don "Walk the Dinosuar" Was- produced Citizen Wayne are equally strong as (and in some cases, even stronger than) their original versions. The blistering social commentary and tales from the dark side of the American Dream in "Something Broken in the Promised Land" and "Crack in the Universe" also translate live with brutal clarity. And "Count Time" is a tight James Brown- influenced funk workout about the day- to- day misgivings of life in the Big House and the myth of criminal "rehabilitation."

Kramer has gone from a street thug to a legendary MC5 guitarist, back to a street thug, then to a convict. Now, finally, he's turned around and become a formidable solo artist. Yep, Mr. Kramer's done some hard time and gained valuable wisdom to pass on to today's young folk. I mean, it's not exactly James Brown's Live at the Apollo, but as you'll see, LLMF does have it's own undeniable moments of timeless perfection.

-Michael Sandlin