The best thing about New York goth-metallurgists Type O Negative is that despite adhering closely to the genre in its writing and stage show, the band has never taken itself too seriously. What else can you say about a gang of men in black who have come up with song titles such as "The Glorious Liberation of the People's Technocratic Republic of Vinnland by the Combined Forces of the United Territories of Europa" or "Unsuccessfully Coping with the Natural Beauty of Infidelity" except that they don't give a rat's ass what anybody thinks. Unlike a lot of metal sellouts, Type O has been happy enough making a reasonable living as cult faves, sticking to what it does best: crunching chords with ominous vocals from former Playgirl pinup Pete Steele, who writes with fang definitely in cheek. The band still likes to slosh the booze around during and after gigs, and still has crazy things go wrong that would never happen to superstars, such as the July 26 theft of guitarist Kenny Hickey's Marshall cabinet by some dude posing as a roadie. One thing's for certain: Type O gets my vote as the coolest dudes to party with in NYC during a blackout.