Ed Masley

The Republic | azcentral.com

It was April 23, 1976, when four misfits from Forest Hills, Queens, hit the streets with a self-titled statement of purpose recorded for $6,400. That album would shape the course of music history, serving as the flagship of a punk tradition with roots in the ‘60s garage.

To honor the 40th anniversary of that revolutionary masterstroke, simply titled “Ramones,” we’re counting down the best punk debuts of the decade that gave rise to such iconic figures as the Sex Pistols, the Clash and Richard Hell.

There’s never been a true consensus on what qualifies as punk. Of course, “Ramones,” “The Clash” and “Never Mind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols” are punk. But what about such CBGB regulars — or would it be irregulars? — as Television, Talking Heads and Blondie?

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I prefer a more elastic definition, one that leaves room for the likes of Devo, Wire, Patti Smith and Television. Even then, I drew the line at Talking Heads and Blondie, love them as I do. Would they have sounded like they did if punk had never happened? No, but then neither would Elvis Costello or Joe Jackson. Do you count the Rolling Stones as punk because “Shattered” was clearly inspired by the movement? No, of course you don’t.

All I’m saying is these are the albums that were punk enough for me to be included. You may disagree, in which case I’d encourage you to flip me off in the spirit of punk.

1. Ramones, "Ramones" (1976)

Few bands have had a greater impact on successive generations than these blitzkrieg-bopping punks from Queens. Everything you need to know to start your own Ramones can be found in the opening seconds of their debut album, the buzz-saw guitar giving way to a pinheaded chant of "Hey! Ho! Let's Go!" The sound of this record is so much a part of the cultural fabric now that it may be hard to hear it for the revolutionary step it took for mankind at the time. And yet, it was a revolution steeped in traditional rock 'n' roll values. From their smile-inducing cover of "Let's Dance" (a hit for Chris Montez in 1962) to the girl-group-compatible charm of their own "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend," the Ramones were all about tradition, ringing in the age of punk as B-movie rock 'n' roll cheerleaders, dumbing it down until it couldn't get much dumber. That's what made it so much fun. And therein lies the genius.

2. The Sex Pistols, "Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols" (1977)

This album rocks. There's so much else to focus on — the Pistols gave good scandal, after all. But it's the way they rock that makes their one true album such a timeless thrill. A lot of people misinterpret what the Pistols did as anti-rock. And Johnny Rotten would have liked it better if they had been, quoted in Rolling Stone as saying, “If the sessions had gone the way I wanted, it would have been unlistenable for most people.” Instead, Steve Jones recycles 20 years of rock 'n' roll excitement on guitar as Rotten does his best to shock and awe with songs about the Berlin Wall, abortion, anarchy and the Queen, a word he manages to rhyme with “She ain’t no human bein’.” That’s the other quality that makes this album stand out from the punk-rock crowd. Unlike the Clash, the Pistols waged their war against society as class clowns in a cartoon-punk burlesque of nihilistic rage. And they were blessed in that respect to have auditioned one of rock's most hilarious rebels. Never mind the anarchy. Here's the showmanship.

3. The Clash, "The Clash" (1977)

"London Calling" is the one no self-respecting rocker could deny without just seeming cranky and old. This is the Clash as punks adore them — young, loud, snotty and tossing a brick at the world outside the windows of their own garage. They want a riot of their own, and you can hear that in the music, which rocks with youthful abandon and passion and rage and hooks as big as any big ideas that would come to dominate their later albums — hooks they thrash away at in arrangements that are more sophisticated than they sound. It’s also undeniably political, from “White Riot” to “Hate & War” and “I’m So Bored with the U.S.A.,” each song delivered in a snarling rasp by the late Joe Strummer. And when they tackle Junior Murvin's reggae hit "Police & Thieves," it couldn't be more clear that while the premise of the movement was that anyone could play, the Clash could play.

4. New York Dolls, "New York Dolls" (1973)

New York City's answer to the Rolling Stones, the Dolls played faster, wore more makeup and, in many ways, anticipated punk as much as Iggy Pop. But the sound and spirit are essentially the Stones without the private jet, to the extent that if you're into "Rip This Joint," there's absolutely nothing here that wouldn't speak directly to you. Johnny Thunders makes the most of every lick Chuck Berry ever played while David Johansen is only as likely as Jagger to go for attitude when notes are too much bother. And the songs are timeless, fueled by killer hooks and lyrics smart enough to cut the bad-boy swagger with a healthy dose of camp. After setting the tone with the breathless abandon of “Personality Crisis,” they make their way through such under-polished gems as “Looking for a Kiss,” a song Johansen prefaces with “I’m in love, L-U-V,” “Trash” and their singalong cover of Bo Diddley’s “Pills.”

5. Buzzcocks, “Another Music in a Different Kitchen” (1978)

The trouble with having your earliest singles strung together on an album that remains the most iconic greatest-hits collection in the history of punk is that way too many people think they’ve satisfied their Buzzcocks jones with “Singles Going Steady.” But that’s barely scratching the surface of an awe-inspiring catalog. “Another Music” is their first full-length effort, following a classic EP titled “Spiral Scratch,” after which Howard Devoto abandoned ship, leaving Pete Shelley to handle lead vocals on this album in his own inimitable fashion. Setting the pace with the aptly titled “Fast Cars,” a portrait in forward momentum that takes a stand against fast cars while warning that “Sooner or later, you're gonna listen to Ralph Nader,” they quickly make their way through a dizzying barrage of hooks on selections as timeless as “No Reply,” “Fiction Romance” and “I Don’t Mind.”

6. The Saints, “(I’m) Stranded” (1977)

Topping the buzzsaw guitars of the early Ramones with a vocal that’s closer in spirit to Iggy Pop’s early work with the Stooges, these Australians open their first album with a title track that stands as one of punk’s essential singles. Sounds magazine called it “the single of this and every week.” And after nearly 40 years that still holds true. The guitars are impossibly filthy, the beat a relentless adrenaline rush, but Chris Bailey’s snotty garage-punk delivery really gives these songs their edge — even if it’s just the way he tosses off the line “All right” in the opening track or “I said, uh, come on, right now” over the racket they stir up in the course of “One Way Street.” There’s also a suitably menacing cover of the Elvis Presley soundtrack number “Kissin’ Cousins” in which Bailey’s sneering vocal underscores exactly what in those lyrics didn’t seem nearly unsettling enough when Elvis sang them.

7. The Damned, “Damned Damned Damned” (1977)

This was the U.K.’s first punk album, preceded by “New Rose,” which was the U.K.’s first punk single. But it’s not the history that reaches out and grabs you by the collar, it’s the music, a glorious racket effectively underproduced by the great Nick Lowe. The opening track, “Neat Neat Neat,” is as raucous as anything on that first Pistols album, Captain Sensible leading the charge with one of punk-rock’s most propulsive basslines before the whole thing explodes with an animalistic howl and the trashiest Chuck Berry licks this side of Johnny Thunders (courtesy of Brian James who also wrote 10 of the 12 songs and co-wrote another). It’s a brilliant introduction to a flawless album that offsets moments as adrenalized as “I Fall,” “Born to Kill” and “Stab Your Back” with change-ups as inspired as the brooding “Fan Club.” By the time they sign off with a cover of the Stooges’ “1970,” retitled as “I Feel Alright,” perhaps to sound less dated.

8. The Modern Lovers, “The Modern Lovers” (1976)

The release date is more than a little misleading. These tracks were four to five years old before this album saw the light of day, by which point they’d been broken up for two years with Jonathan Richman abandoning the qualities that made this album seem so timely when it hit the streets within a few months of “Ramones. The Modern Lovers simulate the thrill of driving "faster miles an hour… in love with the modern world" while cruising past the Stop 'N' Shop "with the radio on" on the opening track before following through with a track that vows “If you won’t sleep with me, I’ll still be with you.” There are no highlights, really. Every track is as strong as that which came before (and that which follows). And as musicians, they add up to more than the sum of their parts, with Ernie Brooks on the jaw-dropping basslines, Jerry Harrison of Talking Heads on keys and David Robinson of the Cars on drums.

9. Richard Hell & the Voidoids, “Blank Generation” (1977)

A jittery, exposed-nerve classic from the early days of punk, it found the Voidoids offsetting the alienation, self-loathing and wit of their leader's post-Beat lyrics with a sound that hasn't lost it sting, from Hell's impassioned yelp to the violently skronking sparks squeezed out by lead guitarist Robert Quine. The title track may be the movement’s most enduring anthem, setting the tone with an impassioned, “I was sayin' ‘Let me out of here’ before I was even born / It's such a gamble when you get a face / It's fascinatin' to observe what the mirror does / But when I dine it's for the wall that I set a place.” And by that point, they’d already hit you with “Love Comes in Spurts,” a head-on collision of sexual innuendo as heartache (or heartache as sexual innuendo) and punk-as-freer-jazz-guitar heroics, and a soulful punk waltz called “Betrayal Takes Two” that serves as the album’s best showcase for Quine’s guitar and Hell’s world-weary poetry.

10. Television, “Marquee Moon” (1977)

It’s kind of weird that a scene as steeped in the rejection of musicianly guitar heroics would produce an album as musicianly as “Marquee Moon.” Those lengthy instrumental passages are stunning — a hypnotic blend of hipster jazz and psychedelic rock. The title track passes the three-minute threshold by a solid seven minutes. But it works as punk in part because that attitude and vocal style — both courtesy of Tom Verlaine, who’d adopted the name of a long-deceased French poet — are so distinctly punk in nature, even as he and Richard Lloyd push the musical envelope on lead guitar. I don’t even feel the need to factor in the bonus points that could be theirs for having talked the folks at CBGB into opening their doors to the brave new world. Does it help that the writing is brilliant from the time they set the tone with “See No Evil?” What do you think?

11. The Jam, “In the City” (1977)

Led by Paul Weller, the Jam brought more pop sensibilities and a heavier British Invasion vibe to the table. They flex their mod-revival muscle on “Art School,” the youth-culture anthem that serves as the opening track. This is maximum R&B as the Who envisioned it but faster and more jittery. Weller emerges as one of the scene’s more gifted lyricists on highlights ranging from a title track whose descending guitar riff was brilliantly repurposed by the Pistols six months later to open their album to “Art School,” “I’ve Changed My Address” and “Away From the Numbers,” on which he promises the fans — or is it really just himself? — that “away from the numbers is where I’m gonna be.” They also light a fire under Larry Williams’ “Slow Down” and Neil Hefti’s “Batman Theme.”

12. Patti Smith, “Horses” (1975)

“Horses” is a fire-breathing masterpiece of animalistic garage-punk abandon and brainy bohemian poetry, making the punk explosion safe for Baudelaire and Burroughs on an album that ushers you into Smith’s iconoclastic worldview with a sneer of “Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine” — a provocative notion to hang on the chorus and chords of Van Morrison’s formerly secular garage-rock anthem, “Gloria.” It’s a statement of purpose as fierce as any punk song ever written. And Smith and her bandmates — Lenny Kaye on guitar, Richard Sohl on piano and Jay Dee Daugherty on drums — follow through with an album that refuses to be tied to any genre, from the reggae flavor of “Redondo Beach” to the haunted Jim Morrison tribute “Break It Up” to “Land,” on which Smith boldly filters a tribute to Arthur Rimbaud through the chorus of “Land of 1,000 Dances.”

13. Wire, “Pink Flag” (1977)

I’m sure a lot of purists would prefer to file this record under post-punk. Fair enough. But it sounds perfectly in context here — a 21-song suite that takes just over 35 minutes to make its way from the hypnotic drone of “Reuters” through the minimalist art-funk groove of “Three Girl Rhumba” and the reckless punk of “Mr. Suit” before bringing the suite to a raucous finale with “12 X U.” It helps that the lyrics are brilliant. Take “Reuters,” an opening track that filters the state of the world through the eyes of a new correspondent and signs off with an agitated howl at the end of his final report, singing, “This is your correspondent, running out of tape / Gunfire’s increasing / Looting, burning, rape.” In the end, it sounds like Wire more than anything, and what could be more punk that that?

14. Stiff Little Fingers, "Inflammable Material" (1979)

Well, they did get together in Belfast with the Troubles all around them. So it's not exactly mystifying that Stiff Little Fingers would hit the ground running with one of the decade's most politically provocative debuts. Most songs here were inspired by the Troubles, after all, setting the stage for everything that follows with the first words out of Jakes Burns' mouth. "Inflammable material is planted in my head," he shouts. "It's a suspect device that's left 2000 dead / Their solutions are our problems / They put up the wall / On each side, time and prime us / And make sure we get f--k all." And with that, they're off, raging away through such obvious highlights as "State of Emergency," "Barbed Wire Love" and "Alternative Ulster," in which he urges Irish listeners to "take a look where you're livin' / You got the Army on your street / And the RUC dog of repression is barking at your feet / Is this the kind of place you wanna live?"

15. X-Ray Spex, "Germfree Adolescents" (1978)

Available only as an import in the States until much later, "Germfree Adolescents" somehow lived up to the promise of their first release, a single that found Poly Styrene yelping "Oh Bondage! Up Yours!" The British teen emerged here as a force of punk-rock nature, leading X-Ray Spex through such classics as "The Day the World Turned Day-Glo" and "Genetic Engineering." But first, she set the tone with an anti-consumerist anthem that starts with the coy declaration, "I know I'm artificial, but don't put the blame on me / I was reared with appliances in a consumer society." No other punk band sounded quite like X-Ray Spex, from Styrene's cult of quirky personality to the most compelling case for saxophone in punk since the Stooges' "Fun House" album hit the streets in 1970.

16. Gang of Four, "Entertainment!" (1979)

From its tightly coiled minimalist funk grooves, which provide a bit more tension than release) to those abrasive shards of brittle, art-damaged guitar from the great Andy Gill, this album captures Gang of Four inventing their own language, its sound as distinctive as anything this side of Richard Hell's "Blank Generation." And that sound is topped by Jon King's agitated vocals as he shares his Marxist views on the Troubles in Ireland ("Ether"), the commodification of sex ("Natural's Not in It"), the idea that history is made by great men ("Not Great Men") and other matters of the day. The end result is as abrasive in its own way as the hardest-hitting punk releases on this list despite being closer in spirit to post-punk (that last part being why I didn't rate it higher on a punk list).

Also well worth tracking down and loving

17. The Undertones, "The Undertones" (1979)

18. Devo, "Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo" (1978)

19. The Dead Boys, "Young, Loud and Snotty" (1977)

20. The Heartbreakers, "L.A.M.F." (1977)

21. Dictators, "Go Girl Crazy?" (1975)

22. Joy Division, "Unknown Pleasures" (1979)

23. The Slits, "Cut" (1979)

24. The Ruts, "The Crack" (1979)

25. Crass, "The Feeding of the 5000" (1978)

26. Pere Ubu, "The Modern Dance" (1978)

27. The Raincoats, "The Raincoats" (1979)

28. The Dickies, "The Incredible Shrinking Dickies" (1978)

29. Germs, "GI" (1979)

Reach the reporter at ed.masley@arizonarepublic.com or 602-444-4495. Twitter.com/EdMasley.

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