1. Here Are the Sonics
This 1965 blast was pure, unadulterated garage rock. A raw, howling blues attack, stripped back to its primal scream. You heard the R&B undercurrent, sure, but it was filtered through a delinquent snarl, pushing early rock 'n' roll into something frantic, bordering on punk. It wasn't clean, it wasn't polished, and that was the whole damn point. A foundational racket that still rattles the teeth.
2. The Meters
Their '69 debut laid down the blueprint for New Orleans funk. Those grooves, man. They’re deep, interlocking, built on a sparse, almost minimalist framework. Zigaboo Modeliste’s drums, Leo Nocentelli’s guitar, George Porter Jr.'s bass, Art Neville's organ – it's a four-way conversation, all rhythm, all feel. It’s the sound of the street, sophisticated in its simplicity, pure soul distilled into an irresistible beat.
3. Happy Budgies - the Sounds of Wild Budgerigars
And then there’s this. Forget your instruments, this 1974 record is just the chirping, squawking cacophony of wild budgerigars. It's found sound as pure environmental music, a pre-digital drone, almost. You might call it ambient, or early minimalism, but it’s really just nature's own chaotic symphony. A surreal, unexpected listen that reminds you sound itself is a wild frontier.
4. Cluster 71
From '71, this was Krautrock on a different trip. Conny Plank’s touch is unmistakable, shaping these sprawling, electronic soundscapes. It’s not about beats; it’s about textures, evolving tones, a slow-motion industrial hum that drifts and pulses. They built worlds out of synthesizers and tape loops, forging a path for electronic music that was less about dance and more about atmosphere, pure aural exploration.
5. Betty Davis
Her 1973 self-titled debut was a shockwave. This wasn't polite soul; this was raw, guttural funk-blues, delivered with an aggressive sexuality that was ahead of its time. Her voice, a searing, unapologetic force, rode those heavy grooves like a wild mare. She fused the visceral power of early rock with the grit of the delta and the swagger of the street. Uncompromising, unforgettable.
6. The Modern Dance
Pere Ubu's 1978 debut was a jagged, art-punk masterpiece. It twisted rock 'n' roll into something angular and unsettling, a post-industrial landscape of clanging guitars, throbbing bass, and David Thomas's unique, yelping narratives. This wasn't about catchy hooks; it was about tension, dissonance, and a strange, compelling rhythm. Pure Cleveland, pure defiance.
7. 20 Jazz Funk Greats (Remastered)
Throbbing Gristle, 1979. Don’t let the title fool you; this was industrial music’s bleak, confrontational peak. They took the sonic detritus of society and hammered it into something disturbing and utterly compelling. It’s aggressive, yes, but also deeply experimental, a deconstruction of music itself. A challenging, dark journey into the heart of noise, even if a remaster cleans up the edges.
