1. Gospel Train (Expanded Edition)
This isn't just Sunday service; it's the raw nerve of American music, amplified. The expanded edition lets you dig deeper into those foundational harmonies, the call-and-response that birthed everything from blues to early rock 'n' roll. It’s pure, unadulterated spiritual fervor, preaching salvation with a rhythm section that could move mountains. You hear the roots of soul in every wail, every communal shout. Essential, truly.
2. Link, Vernon and Doug
Obscure, yes, but this trio laid down some gutbucket truths. You get that lean, mean guitar work, a rhythm section that just *swings* without showing off, and vocals steeped in the dusty roadhouse tradition. It's early rock 'n' roll's darker cousin, full of blues-inflected grit and a sort of unpolished charm that commercial radio wouldn't touch. A proper deep cut, revealing the skeletal structure of what came later.
3. The Presidents of The United States of America: Ten Year Super Bonus Special Anniversary Edition
Yeah, I know. But beneath the cheeky veneer, there's a primal, almost punk-rock simplicity to their grooves. The 'Super Bonus Special' version highlights that raw, stripped-down approach, just bass, drums, and a two-string bass that feels like a garage band channeling some twisted surf-rock energy. It’s deceptively basic, yet it rattles with a youthful, unpretentious aggression.
4. The Stooges
This ain't pretty; it's a gut punch. The self-titled debut is ground zero for proto-punk, a snarling, primal scream against complacency. Iggy's raw vocals, Ron Asheton's jagged guitar riffs, and that relentless, almost mechanical rhythm section just tear through everything. It’s crude, loud, and utterly exhilarating. This record still sounds like it crawled out of a Detroit basement, dripping with sweat and menace.
5. Tago Mago (40th Anniversary Edition)
Can’s masterpiece, a krautrock monolith that still sounds like it arrived from another dimension. This 40th anniversary cut lets those unholy drones and Jaki Liebezeit's hypnotic motorik beat stretch out even further. It’s a psychedelic journey through avant-garde rock, electronic textures, and jazz improvisation, all woven into a singular, sprawling groove. Absolute experimental genius, a true mind-bender.
6. Suicide (2019 - Remaster)
Alan Vega and Martin Rev crafted something truly unsettling here. This 2019 remaster sharpens the edges of their minimalist, industrial-tinged electronic punk. It's just a cheap drum machine, a droning synth, and Vega's sneering, shamanistic vocals, yet it conjures an urban nightmare. Stark, repetitive, and utterly menacing, it was years ahead of its time, a blueprint for so much post-punk and industrial.
7. Marquee Moon
Television broke open the guitar in a new way with this one. Verlaine and Lloyd's intertwining lines aren't just riffs; they're conversational, almost bebop-esque in their complexity, yet delivered with a post-punk urgency. The sound is sharp, crystalline, mapping out the nervous energy of late-70s New York. It’s intellectual rock that still feels vibrant, a masterclass in elegant aggression.
8. Chairs Missing (2006 Remastered Version)
Wire solidified their post-punk brilliance with this one. The 2006 remaster brings out the angularity and cold precision of their sound. Short, sharp bursts of melody collide with terse lyrics and a rhythm section that's both driving and detached. It's an exercise in deconstruction, stripping rock down to its bare, intellectual bones, yet still delivering a visceral kick. A truly smart record.
9. Christmas Collection
Okay, I'll admit some of these Yuletide standards, in their purest forms, carry echoes of old-world folk and even gospel. Think of the call-and-response in a traditional carol, the soulful vibrato in a classic crooner's rendition. This collection, if it leans on those foundational arrangements, can reveal the enduring power of simple melodies and communal singing. It's less about the novelty, more about the tradition.
10. Fire of Love (Remastered 2020)
The Gun Club fused primal blues with punk-rock fury like no one else. Jeffrey Lee Pierce, a true outsider, howled like a man possessed over a rhythm section that stomped and swayed. This 2020 remaster accentuates the raw, almost unholy collision of delta blues grit and garage-rock aggression. It’s dark, dangerous, and utterly captivating, a firestorm of American music.
11. vs.
Mission of Burma's debut full-length is a seismic event in post-punk. They crafted a sound that's both melodic and utterly destructive, with Roger Miller's jagged guitar work and Clint Conley's driving bass lines. Then there's Martin Swope's tape loops, adding an unsettling, avant-garde layer. It's a relentless assault of smart, aggressive rock, demonstrating how to make noise articulate. Still packs a punch.
12. Come Away with ESG
This is the sound of pure, unadulterated groove. ESG's minimalist funk, born out of the Bronx, stripped down disco to its skeletal, percussive essence. It’s all about the bassline, the sparse drums, and those chanted vocals, creating a hypnotic, danceable trance. This record laid down a blueprint for early house and hip-hop, proving that less often means so much more on the dance floor.
