Twenty years ago this month, in November 1986, The Beastie Boys released “Licensed to Ill.”

In Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity,” the character “Barry” wholeheartedly jokes about whether or not it is okay to judge a formerly great artist for his or her latter day sins – if Stevie Wonder should be penalized for having recorded “I Just Called to Say I Love You.”

The question is not entirely in vain. How much should a formerly cutting-edge entertainer – somebody who spent a lifetime honing a specific image – be held accountable for failed attempts at mainstream appeal?

It is as if something happens to some artists when the end of the road is in sight. It’s Noel Gallagher allowing other members of Oasis to pen some songs. It’s George Forman dropping his bruiser image so he can later hawk grills. It’s Jim Carrey flexing his dramatic chops and putting his rubber face on hold.

And as fair as it is to criticize people for becoming conservative with elder statesmanship, it’s equally fair to lambaste performers who have never had artistic credibility and make a last-ditch effort to rework a public persona in the waning moments of their 15 minutes.

It rarely works.

Dustin Diamond isn’t an amateur porn star, he’s “Screech.” Mark Wahlberg might be leading man material, but we knew he had charisma when he was Marky Mark.

In cases like these, it is better to fade away than to burnout. At least bowing out slowly isn’t embarrassing. Watching people like Danny Bonaduce and Vanilla Ice try so hard to live down their pasts is gut wrenching. If anything, it reminds us of what they use to be and reinforces those perceptions they’re trying so hard to nullify.

Maybe this is why television shows like “The Surreal Life” are so successful. Seeing Jane Wieldin as a middle-aged woman who dresses like a cartoon character and is constantly in tears just proves how smart/sexy/cool she use to be – the lower she sinks today means the higher her Go-Go’s pedestal gets.

Never has this issue of end-of-the-road paranoia been as evident as it was with the mid-90’s crop of rap rockers. The way all those acts sprang into the mainstream simultaneously, they tried just as hard – and similarly – to prevent the inevitable backlash of their egomaniacal, testosterone rages. It was as if there was a “How To” guide or guru lectures for Kid Rock, Limp Bizkit and the likes that carefully mapped out their paths to success and the PR moves to try and build credibility toward the end of the decade.

But again, it rarely works.

Fred Durst can wear as many Smiths shirts on the red carpet, blog about his broken heart and swear up-and-down that he loves The Flaming Lips – he still “did it all for the nookie.” Kid Rock might be channeling his proclaimed country blues roots, but that doesn’t change that his perception of being a cowboy is heading “out west, where real women come equipped with scripts and fake breasts.”

Ultimately, after the 1990s, rap rock tried to grow up.

Korn stopped whining about their daddy issues and members tried their hands as entrepreneurs, rap artists, tattoo parlor owners and models. Even the never-boring Rage Against the Machine found a way to mature, realizing there’s validity in subtlety when Tom Morello and Zack de la Rocha’s post-Rage work didn’t hit people over the head with blatant politics.

And while it’s laughable to think Durst, Rock and Korn’s Jonathan Davis may someday be global spokesmen, perched politically on their soapboxes rallying people for positive change – it’s not unprecedented.

Because long before the Beastie Boys wanted to free Tibet, “all they really wanted was girls.”

So if today’s breed of misogynistic, goofballs hopes to have any sort of longevity, they need to follow the Beasties’ blueprint. Has there ever been an act whose views have made such a 180-degree turn, yet managed to dodge the scrutiny? It’s so drastic that the trio all but refuses to perform songs off “Licensed to Ill” and even tried to get distribution of the record halted.

Sure, it was on the band’s sophomore masterpiece “Paul’s Boutique,” that the change began, whereas acts like Limp Bizkit milked the hate-filled shtick for several albums. But the thought process for “Boutique” must have been nerve wracking. Ultimately, the 1989 release would be the record that – let’s face it – the Beasties have been re-recording and re-naming ever since.

But at the time it came on the heels of a debut that garnered seven Top 50 singles, reached No.1 on the Billboard charts and sold more than nine million copies. “Licensed to Ill” started the rap rock genre – Aerosmith/Run DMC collaboration be damned. Slayer’s Kerry King played guitar on one of the record’s signature tunes, “No Sleep ‘til Brooklyn.”

Yet, “Licensed” legacy should not be in its party anthems like “Fight For Your Right (To Party!)” and “Brass Monkey.” It shouldn’t be in the glowing reviews from All Music Guide (5/5 stars) and Rolling Stone Magazine (3.5/5 stars, No.217th greatest album ever).

No, it should be that Mike D, MCA and Ad-Rock recorded one of the angriest, stupidest and most hate-filled records to be so blindly accepted. The people today who refuse to buy their children Eminem records are the same people who fail to see its predecessor as “Licensed to Ill.”

While Eminem – rightfully – is scrutinized for using words like “faggot” as an insult, it seems like the Beastie Boys are the only people contemporarily holding themselves responsible for 20-year-old lyrics like “don’t be a faggot,” – the line that was even the original title for the record. The 13 tracks are nothing short of ignorant, and play like a bunch of guys afraid of catching HIV/AIDS from a toilet seat.

Yes, the trio formally apologized years ago in Time Out New York magazine, releasing a statement to the entire lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community for the band’s homophobic past. Proving it certainly is easier to get forgiveness than permission.

But what about absurdly violent lyrics “I shot those suckers, and I’ll shoot the rest,” (“Rhymin & Stealin”) or just stupid phrases such as “White Castle fries only come in one size,” (“Slow and Low”)? How about misogynistic lines like “The girlies I like are under-aged” (“The New Style”), one of the countless references objectifying females. Something that Ad-Rock has certainly had to rectify with long-time girlfriend – seminal riot grrrl, Le Tigre/Bikini Kill front woman and women’s activist – Kathleen Hanna.

It’s like an NAACP official dating Michael Richards.

So if it’s right to hold Stevie Wonder accountable for his mid-80’s travesties, then it is certainly fine to hold the Beastie Boys accountable for theirs. The only difference is the stage in their respective careers. Wonder was never able to rebound, but he didn’t have to. He had already been great.

The New York trio, on the other hand, hadn’t. But they are now; and have been since 1989.

Too bad it took hindsight to realize just how bad they were before then.

Daily Herald BEEP, Nov. 29, 2006