How can anyone not love Fugazi? Even if you've never heard note one, you're more than likely familiar with the influence the Washington, DC quartet has had on the music (anti) industry, thanks to its staunchly upheld DIY values and ability to stay true to its artistic, populist vision without a sideways glance at charts or royalty statements. (Case in point: Dischord, the label co-founded by vocalist-guitarist Ian MacKaye back when he headed Minor Threat, the punk band which more or less coined and created the straight-edge movement.) The almighty dollar is not an issue with Fugazi, except to be sonically railed against.

Although at times the band has worn its conscience a little too forcefully on its sleeve (the female-perspective manifesto ""Reclamation"" from 1991's Steady Diet of Nothing comes to mind), Fugazi's intentions are always from-the-soul pure, always admirable. The band musically exists on its own plane, untouched by outside influence. The inner workings of Dischord aside (it's often difficult to honor the apples-and-oranges distinction between ""label"" and ""band"" in this case), Fugazi never falters at making its shows available and affordable to all; the bandmembers admirably demand their fans not mosh, for safety reasons. Categorically, Fugazi is the only band to which the phrase ""They do it for the kids, man,"" applies -- and completely without irony. Why? Because they walk it like they talk it. Sure, countless bands have attempted to take up the rage-against-the-machine mantle in the years since Fugazi's 1987 inception -- um, Rage Against the Machine, for example. But can we someday expect to see Fugazi supporting U2 at a stadium near you? Puh-leeze. It's not as if any dyed-in-the-wool-cap fan needs reassurance, but End Hits, Fugazi's sixth album and their first since 1995's Red Medicine, proves the blows against the empire will keep on coming.

Though the title suggests otherwise, this is not a career-end retrospective, but a tension-driven summation of the millennium's end, a stream-of-consciousness portrait of a generation mired in unease and uncertainty. OK, that could easily describe anything Fugazi's done, but the upshot is delivery, never disappointment. Here, the band experiments with maturity; MacKaye and vocalist-guitarist Guy Picciotto strike gorgeous balance between showering reverb and delicate (yes, delicate), melodic precision, and bassist Joe Lally delivers a sinuous foundation (and his first lead vocal, on ""Recap Modotti""). But Brendan Canty's beats just don't let up, even when his bandmates appear to be kicking back. (Oh, they ain't.) Every last track is exemplary, from the expected, but always satisfying, rants against corruption and machismo (""Five Corporations,"" ""Caustic Acrostic,"" the stunning ""Foreman's Dog"") to the ominous, downtempo ""Pink Frosty,"" a struggle to salvage a relationship (""with glue and string and deciphering"") and the morose, paranoiac ""No Surprise."" ""Yawn yawn yawn/I can't stifle my boredom,"" complains Picciotto on ""Place Position."" We can relate, but not while this album's playing.