It's never too late to become a rediscovered legend. Eighteen years ago, Penelope Houston carved a small place in female punk history by fronting the Avengers, San Francisco's unisex equivalent to Los Angeles' X and London's X-Ray Spex. Unlike those groups, the Avengers never got a major-label contract. Instead they made their impact with some indie EPs, featuring pogo ready punk songs like "The American in Me" and "Car Crash."

Anyone familiar with Houston's amateurish whine from those days won't easily adjust to Cut You, her major-label debut. Breathy and demure, Houston's voice boasts the earnest cadences of a folk singer. Its cynical qualities arise only after you've sunk below the album's surface. As aesthetic trajectories go, it's not unlike the Marianne Faithfull story told in reverse.

Over the years, Houston has become as unexpectedly warm as Faithfull has become shockingly grave. To smooth the transition, Cut You recycles songs that appeared on past Houston indie albums. Eight reworked songs turn up alongside six fresh compositions. The mix proves surprisingly smooth. Houston lets soft ballads dominate: The single "Sweetheart" sounds as dainty as a Cranberries song, while "Locket" casts Houston as a north-of-the-border Astrud Gilberto, with mandolins twinkling behind. There's also a grunge-rock ballad ("Fuzzy Throne"), a New Wave punk nod ("Glad I'm a Girl") and a summery bit of '60s California folk rock ("Fall Back").

Houston ties it together with gossamer vocals and lyrics that invert the accusations of punk. Other than a few sneering nods, Houston finds fault mainly with her own feelings, admitting to an obsessive and unrequited love. These days she establishes her defiance in quieter ways, finding a foundation in the scorn of others. "With their sticks and stones/I'm going to build my home," she sings with quiet resolve on "Scratch." The result is inspiring: Now approaching middle age, Houston finally displays the strength to face whatever demons lie beyond anger. (RS 731)

JIM FARBER