The music of the Donnas is cleverer and more enjoyable than most of the retro-pop I've heard lately. Though it's high-school kids who compose the group's fan base, it's boomer music critics who've become their champions. They like these girls from Palo Alto, Calif., because they say they're the first punk band that's successfully built on the deceptively simple premise of the Ramones: fast, melodic, loud songs about adolescent stupidity, though in the Donnas' case it's from a female point of view.

Donna A and Donna F rock out at the Donnas' Aug. 29 show at Astro Hall.

I think the multigenerational appeal is deeper. Take the name. Back in the '70s, it was probably the second most common female name (after Debbie) at my high school. Although all four girls use the name on stage, their real names would never have appeared in my yearbook. Brett? Maya? Torry? I think there was one Allison in my graduating class, but the other three obviously have lapsed hippie parents. I would guess that's where they heard the first three Ramones albums, all of which were released before they were born. Maybe their dads all dated Donnas.

Then there's the subject matter. Though the American high school experience of jocks/cheerleaders vs. dorks/bohemians seems to be an unassailable archetype, I don't recognize much of my own experience in recent movies such as "She's All That." A lot of it has to do with Hollywood stereotypes (I don't recognize my own experience in "Rebel Without a Cause," either), but mainly it has to do with the details.

When I listen to the Donnas, though, memories both painful and joyous come flooding back. When they played "Doin' Donuts" near the end of their Astro Hall concert Aug. 29, Donna A, the lead singer, introduced it as a "car song." The tune only mentions cruising in passing ("Gettin in the Dynaride, vinyl on Naugahide/I'm wired, ready to go/He's tired, shove him out the door") but the one-two-one-two beat and the sugar-infused melody (the very title incurs diabetes) suddenly reminded me of late nights driving down Jericho Turnpike looking for an all-night coffee shop.

The cultural medium they inhabit may be narrow, but that doesn't explain why only about 70 people showed up for the show. The Donnas have played Tokyo before, though this is their first Japan tour since their three indie albums were picked up for distribution here by Network Records.

Obviously, they have to compete with a lot of other stateside punk bands for a limited amount of yen and, moreover, late August shows are notoriously difficult to sell.

They do have their devoted fans, though, 20 of whom, almost all female, were parked right up front screaming and dancing during the hour-long set. Donna A kept referring to individuals in this crowd by name, indicating that they were already acquainted. Consequently, the show took on the feel of a high-school dance, with the partyers partying and the rest of us wallflowers hanging back, into the music but too cool to want to be seen as such.

In fact, I think it's important that they can't escape their milieu. Donna A is not a great vocalist, but she knows whereof she sings. In a voice simultaneously snide and bored, she can go off about malls and "mano" with the kind of authority that makes you smile rather than wince. When she puts some guy down with the line, "His mom writes his name on his underwear," you really feel sorry for him.

The sentiments would mean nothing, however, without the music. One reason the constant Ramones comparisons are a bore is that the Donnas' sound owes more to ambitious metal bands who've been charming adolescents since before punk became "punk." The title song from their 1999 album, "Get Skintight," features double-back syncopations that match the rhythm of the staggered rhymes: "Skintight baby all right/Turn out the light, and take a bite." The one cover they did at Astro Hall was Judas Priest's "Living After Midnight."

Similarly, the girls don't copy punk stage manners. They play a boy's game by the boys' rules without compromising their feminine charms. Donna A has the habit of biting off a line and then turning her head provocatively before lunging into the next verse. A tall, big-boned girl, she moves her shoulders onstage with an unhurried sway that conveys an irresistibly sexual connection to the music. She's the kind of singer that mike stands were made for.

In contrast, the diminutive drummer, Donna C, is like one of those wind-up toy monkeys, her arms flailing and her head swirling in a seeming flurry of conflicting purposes, and yet the beat that results from this mayhem is rock solid. Guitarist Donna R, the obvious babe of the band, is all cool tricks behind a curtain of brown hair. And killer bassist Donna F, with her pigtails and black lipstick, is a metal madwoman whose only concession to lightness is her high-pitched voice, which was used to interesting effect on her jokey Japanese. "Natto ga suki?!" she squealed.

Obviously, the Donnas just wanna have fun. But high school has to end sometime. Donna A announced that they'd just finished recording a new album, "The Donnas Turn 21." It's a good title, but not a particularly wise career move. The girls seem so comfortable in what they do that I dread to think how the inalterable responsibilities of adulthood will affect their music. How can you write teen classics like "Get Outta My Room" when you're worrying about car payments?

Fortunately, the new song was titled, "You've Got a Crush on Me," which seems to indicate, at least for the time being, that their priorities remain the same.