Black Flag

By sucker-punching L.A.'s fashionista scene in the '80s, Black Flag lent a sneering, savage face to not only SoCal punk, but the genre in general. These Basics ("Rise Above," "Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie," "TV Party") are timeless anthems for the alienated and downright pissed-off. Optimal listening suggestion: 1) crank to neighbor-offending volume, 2) call up rowdy buddies, 3) commence slamming.

Beyond the sheer furor of Black Flag's first LP is the shifty sound of natural born madmen. Family Man presents the frightening spoken-word pieces of Henry Rollins, guitarist/founder Greg Ginn turns the convulsive riffs of Slip It In into splatter paintings, and My War wades through the swamp at dawn with Black Sabbath.

Black Flag frontman Henry Rollins used to floor hecklers with his ten-pound meatball of a fist. Hear him rage without the messy cleanup on these live cuts, rounded out by the immaculate mess of the group's early years and 12-tone experimental music worthy of Sonic Youth ("The Process of Weeding Out").

Before Henry Rollins became a respected poet on college campuses, he stared down crowds as the unchained-pit bull frontman of Black Flag. The funny thing is, he was just an overzealous fan before joining. Therein lies the appeal of this hardcore punk institution — the reason why the four-bar Black Flag logo adorns the arms of so many fans and artists: Throughout lineup changes and subtle sonic shifts to jazz, noise, and heavy metal undertones, Black Flag has consistently epitomized just what it means to be punk rock.