Fans who managed to keep the faith during Elastica's five-year intermission will probably recognize at least some of the tracks here --about half appeared in EP versions recorded by a different line-up. But I'm not, or at least wasn't, among the faithful, and I'm surprised how unified The Menace's 13 tracks sound, and how remarkably well half-a-decade's worth of material hangs together. Obviously, Frischmann's tenure as the "It"girl of the parochial and cannibalistic UK pop scene hasn't dimmed her cool wit or her cocky intelligence; if anything, it's spurred her to up the ante.

Unlike Elastica's hook-dropping manipulations, The Menace is far more convincing in assimilating its influences. But anyone living and listening in the new century who can convince themselves that Pink Flag is recyclable material at least as valuable as Pink Moon will find plenty of pearls scattered about: the album's opening triptych --"Mad Dog God Dam," "Generator" and "How He Wrote Elastica Man" are tight, deliciously aggressive shards of postpunk discord, "Human" and "Nothing Stays the Same" are ethereal slow-burns, "Da Da Da" proves a cheeky toss-off that cuts off any hints of pretension at the knees.

Of course, plumming the depths of the late-70s songbook, however impressively, doesn't earn you points with the fashion police. In a typical dis, one quick-witted mouth-breather posited that Elastica garners so much critical attention because they're "fronted by a woman" (someone tell that to Sarge, Le Tigre or Amy Rigby). That kind of myopic, silly-assed reasoning is why, after her moment in the sun, Justine Frischmann is probably doomed to popular irrelevance, even on these shores. And it's why The Menace already looks like a secret gem, fresh from the shrink-wrap.