Penelope Houston, "Cut You" (Reprise)

Next to signing to a major label, aging is the thing most likely to get you branded as a sellout in rock and roll. When I read a rock critic complaining that some performer isn't as loud or as angry as he or she used to be, I usually toss the piece aside and think, "Peter Pan with a Mohawk and a bad disposition."

That's not to say performers who do become genuinely boring and out of touch -- like Chrissie Hynde -- shouldn't be taken to task. (If Urge Overkill really is the best thing she's heard in 10 years, she should get out more.) But there are too many rock critics who aren't ready to acknowledge how debilitating -- and boring -- it can be to sustain unflagging, unbridled rage. That's why every new Elvis Costello album is pissed on because it isn't "This Year's Model," while no one seems to notice that Costello may now be the finest white singer in rock. And it's why there are plenty of people who seem as if they would have been happy for Paul Westerberg to drink himself to death, if only they could have had one more "Let It Be."