CMJ NEW MUSIC REPORT - insomniac review teenage angst has paid off well, but you won't find green day bored and old just yet. under tremendous pressure and expectation, the band has delivered a followup to the ubiquitous dookie that isn't a convoluted leap forward or a pretentious step backward, but a firecracker of three-chord affirmation that the band won't and can't forget what it does best.  eight-million-plus records later, green day miraculously remains in close touch with the constituency: lyrically, there's a check mark in the column for all of the necessary themes (geekiness, maladjustment, scab-picking, girls, mom and dad, restlessness, boredom, et. al.), but insomniac is darker and angrier than the restless fun of dookie. guileless treatments of troubled youth are gone, and a record saturated with references to lost identity, hopelessness, self-destruction and drugged paranoia pops and crackles in its place, keeping pace with the ever-darkening youth of today. but a dismissal of the band as eternally shiftless teenagers misses the reason behind their magical success: green day's learned how to galvanize disaffected american kids by brilliantly and craftily packing all that unused energy into adenoidal, infectiously melodic, buzzing guitar pop with a disgruntled kick, and insomniac will have `em pogoing in the aisles.  this is no post-platinum slump; millions of copies of Insomniac are destined to fill the pockets of oversized pants and glisten under the christmas trees of teenagers across the nation. in another six months, you'll know these by heart: "walking contradiction," "armatage shanks," "jaded," "brain stew," "86" and "bab's uvula who?" cheryl botchick