Garage Rock Classics

They came from the U.S. and they came from the U.K. — once rock 'n' roll grabbed young people by the throat, guitar sales soared and kids unleashed their own sounds, finding unimagined expression and freedom in music. Raw and primitive, garage rock cut things right down to the core. From the sad/vindictive howl of heartache ("96 Tears" from ? & The Mysterians) to the chest-pounding celebration of groove and gut (the Kingsmen's "Louie Louie"), these classic cuts are all about feel. And is there any song in all of rock that's more primal or perfect than the Troggs' "Wild Thing"? We think not.

Just like that, a movement was born. And in our Next Steps, the garage door opens even wider.

While a good portion of garage rock was created in a garage, inspiration occasionally struck elsewhere, as with "Shape of Things to Come," from the soundtrack to psych-sploitation flick Wild In the Streets — featuring fictional band Max Frost & The Troopers, it's a minute and 56 seconds of thrift-shop-organ-drive that transcends its silver-screen origins with a blast of bratty, boulder-on-the-shoulder garage attitude. With the Nazz, Todd Rundgren channels the Beatles on his classic "Open My Eyes," and psychedelic guitar mates with syncopated Latin freakiness in "Bat Macumba," by the incredible Os Mutantes. "I'm a Man," of course, is pure, scrappy Yardbirds at their bollocks 'n' blues best.

Think you know garage? Dig into our Deep Cuts — we've unearthed some monster nuggets that you simply need to hear.

Shoulder your way to the front of the stage and lose yourself in the glorious abandon of "Jump, Jive and Harmonize," courtesy of Thee Midniters, an East L.A. garage combo that famously blended pulverizing vocals with horns and steamroller R&B organ. Then get down and dirty with the tiger-in-a-trashcan beat and throat-grabbing guitars of "Get Me to the World On Time" by the Electric Prunes, who clearly aren't kidding when they sing about shaking up their hormones. Join the New Colony Six for their harp-wailin', boot-stompin', pre-apocalyptic party "At the River's Edge." Whatever your pleasure, dig the sweaty simplicity here — just remember to flip off the light switch and close the garage door when the music's over. Oh, yeah, and come back soon.

Long before the punk class of '77 deflated bloated rock, long before D.I.Y. became a badge of honor on a uniform already crowded with pinned-on labels, there was garage rock. Simply put, bands learned three or four chords, turned the amps up to 11, and bashed out their own tunes, sublime in their simplicity, luxurious in their loudness. In the mid-'60s some of rock's finest cuts emerged from the garage — from the Pacific Northwest's Kingsmen and "Louie Louie" to the Aussie attack of the Easybeats and "Sorry." Ted Nugent's Detroit-born Amboy Dukes growled through the blues classic "Baby Please Don't Go," while up in Canada the Guess Who put a hard-knuckle spin on England's "Shakin' All Over." Paul Revere & The Raiders came from Seattle, the Troggs from London, and the Seeds from L.A. In the end, though, from "Wild Thing" to "Incense and Peppermint," the idea remained the same: say it fast, say it hard, and get out before they know what's hit 'em.