Beastie Boys

Two decades ago, the Beastie Boys were the scourge of morality arbiters everywhere. Just one example: Following a March 1987 Beasties concert in Columbus, Georgia, that featured a twenty-foot mock-penis and repeated suggestions that women attendees flash their jugs, the town’s police chief publicly criticized his officers for not charging bandmates Adam Yauch, Adam Horwitz and Mike Diamond with indecency. Today, of course, things are different. The former bad Boys have long since renounced their once-jubilant sexism and generally seem more interested in Tibetan mountain ranges than in the peaks sported by female fans. Yet the sonic prankishness that inspired their parent-tweaking behavior lives on in songs from one of the period’s most consistently enjoyable catalogs: “Hey Ladies,” “Sabotage” and plenty of others still sound as fresh as a frat member on the make. Granted, The Mix-Up, a merely pleasant new disc of sorta funky instrumentals, won’t upset any Deep South cops. Thank goodness the old stuff retains its hard-fought immaturity.