THE CULT “Sonic Temple.” Sire **: <i> Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor) to five stars (a classic).</i>

When England’s the Cult transmogrified itself from an alternative group to a metal band with its previous album, “Electric,” it turned out to be more than just a good joke: Album-rock thumpers like “Lil Devil” and “Wild Flower” were dumb, raunchy fun that even non-metalheads could bring themselves to enjoy if for no other reason than the--shall we say--higher pedigree of the band.

Though they’ve run a bit short on good riffs this time, it’s possible to put “Sonic Temple” on and have a perfectly fine time with the big beat (this was cut with studio drummer Mickey Currey before new drummer Matt Sorum joined), big guitar noise and Ian Astbury’s ragged, not-too-high-pitched vocal histrionics, if you don’t think too hard.

But sheesh , is it stupid.

It’s easy to understand why kids barely weaned on Led Zeppelin eat this up: There’s plenty of “Kashmir”-style riffing in “Soul Asylum,” and much of the same highfalutin’ romanticism. (Being English helps.) But the group can come close to boogieing, as on “New York City,” and the generally streetwise aura puts the band closer in image and attitude to Axl Rose than Alistair Crowley.

But how streetwise can a band be that writes as dumb-ox a ballad as “Edie (Ciao Baby)”? Just when you thought Edie Brickell had closed the book on Edie Sedgwick tributes with her witty “Little Miss S.,” along comes the Cult with an utterly lunkheaded anthem about a dead “angel with a broken wing”--accompanied by strings, no less--that includes classic lines like: “Stars wrapped in your hair, life without a care, but . . . you’re not there! “ Spinal Tap’s Nigel Tufnel couldn’t have written it better himself.