The Damned haven't had it too bad. The press discovered the group with their first official gig in January 1976; along with the Sex Pistols, they made a club less dainty. Soon after, they toured America, a first for a British punk group, and inspired many people to spit on each other. It was all in damned good fun.

That same year, author Stanley Elkin created a life that parallels the band's experience. In The Living End, a liquor store owner pities the financially strapped widow of a murdered cashier. He gives her the late husband's job, and when she's unable to meet her bills, expands the store's hours to Sundays. The owner, a deeply ethical man, goes against the stereotype of his profession -- and the same can be said of the Damned.

For more than twenty-five years, they've given a good name to Punk Rock. Lead vocalist Dave Vanian sings well enough to sub for any mutation of Jim Morrison and Neil Diamond, while his primary sidekick, the loveable bassist-turned-guitarist Captain Sensible, could charm your grandparents with tea and snaps while naked, or wearing a nurse's outfit. Musically, the Damned make "punk rock" you don't need to be drunk to enjoy. They have never been shy of melody or rousing choruses, nor of stretching their music beyond punk's traditional parameters. As the thirteen tracks on Grave Disorder demonstrate, the Damned share several traits with XTC: wry lyrics, fervent Britishness and musical variety that now ranges from prog-goth and arty ballads to political- and punk-pop workouts ("Neverland", "Song.Com", "W") that are as energetic as their early work. The Damned are effortlessly catchy, and have a way of making very complicated compositions (like "Amen", "Absinthe" and "Beauty of the Beast") sound like simple, good-natured fun. They have been, in short, ideal punk rockers: "rowdy kindergarteners" whose music we can grow old (and dead) with.

Speaking of death, let's go back to The Living End, and the fate that liquor store owner met. After being shot and killed, he is condemned to Hell for having opened his store on the Sabbath. Here, God is portrayed as being as petty as the rock music industry has been to veteran artists. Some of the best records of the past few years have been made by The Damned's peers (or near-peers) -- Terry Hall, Kevin Rowland, Roddy Frame, David Johansen, Vic Godard and Peter Hook's Monaco -- but due to lack of promotion, they've all "moved" the same abysmally low numbers that country icons like Mickey Newbury now sell.

Because Grave Disorder has garnered the group US distribution and a fall US tour, The Damned may have escaped a similarly unjust fate. Twenty-five years after their first celebrated gig, they've only improved. Vanian's voice has grown stronger over the years, adding substance to the lyrics, while the Captain is a natural at guitar. All of the new Damned members (from groups like the Gun Club and The Sisters of Mercy), besides possessing better names than Rat Scabies, are damned good players too. Couple these strengths with some surprisingly topical songs about world leaders (Tony Blair, George W. Bush) and routine whipping boys (Michael Jackson). In other words, it's unlikely that misfortune will strike the Damned -- as long as they don't play on the Sabbath.