* * * * <i> Great Balls of Fire</i> , * * * <i> Good Vibrations</i> , * * <i> Maybe Baby</i> , * <i> Running on Empty</i> : CULT: BIG-NOISE BOYS

* * * “ELECTRIC.” The Cult. Sire. This kalculated kombonation of general ‘70s metal-heaviness and generic glam-rock topped off with a many-colored coat of late-’60s image polish falls somewhere between the pre-fab pout of Billy Idol (whose Southland concerts Wednesday, Friday and Saturday the Cult will not-coincidentally open) and the legions of local lipstick killers who’ve ventured forth from the San Fernando Valley-of-the-New-York-Dolls of late.

Take “Wild Flower,” wherein these BIG-noise Brit boys manage to create an entire song--and we certainly use that word loosely--out of half the riff to T. Rex’s “Telegram Sam.” Or “Love Removal Machine,” the best remake/remodel of the Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” we’ve heard in the past 9 1/2 weeks. Or the bloozy, blowsey, Limey lemon-squeezy riff-raunch of “Memphis Hip Shake.” Or everything else on this album-that-plays-like-a-single except that sluggardly version of “Born to Be Wild” that not even the certifiably def production talents Rick Rubin (Beastie Boys, Run-D.M.C.) can save from instant fossilization.

In English, this translates as supremely trashy, gimmicky, headbongin’ music designed specifically to get up parents’ noses, unlistenable to anyone but teen-agers and permanent addledlescents. An 818 on the Obnoxi-O-Meter.