Armed with just a few singles on tiny record labels and some comments about not "selling out" and a vague "revolution," the Scottish trio Bis has caused a stir in the U.K. in the past year. Propelled by two guitars and a synthesizer (a drum machine, canned keyboard bass and occasional Ms. Pac Man effects thicken the sound), Bis are masters of inflamed rhetoric and catchy sloganeering: "Sweetshop Avengerz," "Monstarr" and "Everybody Thinks That They're Going to Get Theirs" are just three out of 18 near-perfect shout-alongs on their debut album, The New Transistor Heroes, Bis' music-biz peers aren't safe from the vitriol: "One day you'll realize that you're not that great," sings Manda Rin on "Popstar Kill," "Hey, popstar, I hate your guts, you don't deserve to live."

In other words, Bis loathe everything a band like Kenickie strives for. Kenickie, a three girl/one boy combo from northern England, play more conventional yet highly satisfying frothy glam punk, and relish its commercial success. Needless to say, they particularly enjoy targeting the grandstanding of bands such as, well, Bis, on songs like "Punka" ("Underground cliché – Punka!").

Yet Kenickie and Bis have more in common than they would care to admit. Musically, both update early '80s sounds with '90s attitude – Bis are Bow Wow Wow filtered through riot grrrl aesthetics, whereas Kenickie actually deliver on promises made by the Go-Go's in 1981. Most important, both bands share a single, basic interest: their own youth (no one in either band has reached 21, save Kenickie's venerable drummer, Johnny X, and Bis' Scifi-Steven). Bis actively promote the concept of a "Teen C Nation," and Kenickie revel in typical nothing-can-stop-me teenage arrogance.

There are also ominous signs that Bis and Kenickie may be in trouble once their hormones settle down and they have to replace attitude with actual songwriting: Kenickie's slow songs are particularly clunky ("Acetone"), and Bis' anthems are rather interchangeable. But, right now, they pull it off on sheer energy and arrogance. Who cares about the future, anyway, when the present is such a blast? (RS 761)

ELISABETH VINCENTELLI