PUNK poet and protest singer Patti Smith, along with contemporaries Lou Reed and Television, embodied that arty, leather-jacketed attitude of bohemian 1970s New York, whose style, if not substance, has recently been resurrected as the epitome of cool by The Strokes and Interpol.

But despite a devoted cult following since her 1975 debut, Horses, mainstream rock success has never exactly been on the cards for an artist more given to improvised spoken word performances than to hit singles. She claims visionary poets Arthur Rimbaud and William Blake are her inspirations.

Instead, she's been subtly influential, and is cited as an inspiration by such artists as PJ Harvey, Morrissey, Nick Cave, REM's Michael Stipe and the late Jeff Buckley - and sadly, by any number of cringeworthily-pretentious "performance poets" the world over.

Trampin' is a vastly superior effort than Smith's last outing, the glumly pedestrian garage rock of Gung Ho.

It still isn't exactly a barrel of laughs, and at times can be a workmanlike slog for anyone who is not a devout fan. But it does offer some strong folk and blues-inflected songs, while Smith's voice of experience is on powerful form, whether tackling an exuberant rocker such as opening track Jubilee, the soulful Mother Rose, or the piano spiritual of the title track.

The saving graces come when she turns from the personal to the political, and gets angry.

Gandhi and the 12-minute epic Radio Baghdad sees her doing what she does best, firing off apocalyptic lyrics of war and peace, spurring her band onward into chaotic, improvised rock noise that finally recaptures the excitement of her best work.

Updated: 09:33 Thursday, April 29, 2004