BRITISH ROCK critic Simon Frith has concluded that "no useful revolution is going to announce itself through stereo head phones." "He was right, of course, but luckily that never deterred performers such as Dylan or the Clash from shoving their hard-line radicalism down our throats. Their music is so compelling that we have forgiven them whatever ideological are they had to grind Occasionally, we even supported them in their assorted causes.

England's Gang of Four is another example of the phenomenon. The Gang disdains the time-honored rock themes of women, booze, and the counterculture. Instead, the Gang members address weighty topics such as "social structure" and the "relations of production"--all on a purely theoretical level. The approach is slightly absurd. Not that a few committed radicals can't have some good ideas set to music, but the thought of these guitar dogmatists pounding out their Marxism so relentlessly, earnestly, and literally must have Karl rolling in his grave.

But it also has rock fans dancing in the aisles and that's the bottom line for the Gang and almost every other good band. It's something the Gang has kept in mind, no matter how didactic their first two albums sounded.

They haven't lost their understanding of this important rock dictum, as their latest, Songs of the Free clearly demonstrates. From the opening stanzas of "Call Me Up." with lead singer Jon King's observation that. "We're consumed by competition," through the queries in "Of the Instant." "Who owns what you do? Who owns that you use?" the Gang maintains a steady stream of class and social analysis. Yet it is woven into music so original and infectious that it makes you forget about the revolution the Gang wanted to start in the first place. The album is one punk-funky dance number after another.

Obvious winners abound for example, "I Love a Man in a Uniform," an undisguised satire of militarism, and "We Live as We Dream Alone," a most bleak outlook on individuals within society "It Is Not Enough" is an animalistic attack on western sexual mores from both the man and woman's point of view. (The Gang, by the was recently solved its long-brewing bassist problem with the addition of the multi-talented Sara Lee hurray for coeducation in rock!) The biting "The History of the World" is a disguised condemnation of imperialism and the album's underdog success. "When I was in my mother's womb, social structure seemed at simple thing," sings King with comic earnestness.

The Gang has definitely evolved over the last few years--their funky Europop of today contrasted by the lean, spare minimalists post punk of their first. "Entertainment," a success of a different sort from their latest. Yet there are constants, most of which derive from the exquisite musicianship of the band members. This level of musicianship along with an admirable earnestness and intensity of purpose no matter what you may think of its politics--has raised the Gang above the trendy, and most irrelevant British punk-funk scene.

AS ONE FRIEND points out, you can almost keep time according to drummer Hugo Burnham's powerful beat, a beat which sustained such early hits as "Damaged Goods" and "At Home, He is a Tourist." As well as almost defining their current array of soultinged anthems Sara Lee lays down a strong bass line and more, as well as patching in with her gutsy soprano voice at important moments in "Call Me Up" and "I Love a Man in Uniform."

But clearly the heart and soul, not to mention the songwriters, of the Gang--both musically and spiritually--are singer King and lead guitarist Andy Gill. Nowhere is this more clear than in concert, where these two soft revolutionaries direct one of the most frenzied and exciting live shows you'll was anywhere Resplendent in dull gray double-brested 1940s suits--sans cravate----the Gang is almost transformed into the radical leaders they so fervently desire to be.

Gill scampers from side to side, picking our suitable vantage points where he can glare sinisterly our into the orgiastic crowd. A technical virtuoso equal to Adrian Belew or Robert Fripp of King Crimson, he sends screeching feedback and other bizarre sounds blazing to the ceiling, rips off eclectic chord changes to brand in with the rhythmic thrust laid down by Burnham and Lee, and contributes his eerie, monotonic voice strategically. For his part. King writhes and oscillates madly like a maniacal giraffe at the center of the stage, his primitive, guttural, and thoroughly expressive voice bounding through the controlled disorder let loose by his bandmates. To watch is a riveting experience, whether or not you have heard the Gang's stuff before.

Of course, if you have heard their stuff, seeing them live can be downright illuminating, for more than most bands the Gang defines itself in concert. The sheer responsibility of leading that flock of faithful followers dancing wildly before them evokes the best of the Gang. The brutal drive of King and Gill--suffused by the stylish yet restrained nature of a record-comes to life, egged on by the demanding presence of the audience.

What is more, it must gingerly be said, sung live, their politics almost seem to make sense. Not that you necessarily agree with them, but at least you learn to respect them. For while they will surely be spouting Marxist slogans until the day they die. Gill and King don't take it all that seriously. And that is something you could never really glean from an album like Songs of the Free, which to the casual listener can seem almost excruciatingly pedantic. These guys actually have a sense of humor, which is a lot more than you can say about such dogged revolutionaries as the Clash. When King screams. "The girls they love to see you shoot" or "Life! It's a shame" in concert, you almost have to laugh, and by their commanding presence on stage, they betray the happy revelation that maybe they aren't that hardened after all. Maybe Marxism can even be fun: their lyrics merely good principles to go along with, not written in stone dogma.

Oh and their music! Simple, driving, compelling, and at times melodic, they put FM reactionary garbage to shame. Chairman Mao was dead wrong, as this version of the Gang of Four disagrees with-their Chinese namesakes a revolution can be a dinner party Or at least a good show.