First up, the White Stripes on long-standing U.K. pop showcase Top Of The Pops, in February 2002. “Fell In Love With A Girl” began its chart-shaking international climb, and Jack and Meg White entered English living rooms for the first time. They refused to obey the show’s strict lip-synching policy, ripping through their single live, with a manic rawness bridging Ramones and Little Richard. Midway through, Jack signaled his ex-wife to switch up the beat to a four-on-the-floor, kick-drum-and-high-hat pattern. He improvised a brief sermon about the advantages of love, quoting Cole Porter and some unidentified bluesman along the way. Just as swiftly, they returned to their hit. TOTP’s studio audience was gobsmacked.

Crossfade to three months earlier, on Later… With Jools Holland: Swedish upstarts the Hives assaulted the venerated talk show with their new single “Hate To Say I Told You So.” Over the course of the next year, this compression of the Kinks’ early distorto-rock a la “You Really Got Me” conquered the world. The look in Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist’s eyes as his bandmates detonate those four now-familiar chords, while he tosses his mic hand-to-hand, awaiting his cue, is basically, “Yeah, I’m gonna have you yet.” 

“We are the Hives! We’re from Sweden,” he announced, as the arrangement dropped down to Dr. Matt Destruction’s four-wheel-drive bassline. “Wanna know how to spell the Hives? G-E-N-I-O-U-S — the Hives!” England was charmed.

You have to wonder if any viewers or studio audience members were aware or cared that both bands were reaching for the same moment in rock history?

Read more: These 10 artists made Washington DC into one of the epicenters of punk

Garage punk went commercial for the second time in its long history during the 21st century’s beginnings. It was a welcome antidote to the day’s abysmal rock and pop — a noisy, aggressive, high-energy music simple enough for any kid with minimal equipment and basic ability to replicate. Punk rock began with garage in the ’60s. Now it returned to put rock ‘n’ roll back in the hands of common folk. This is the story of the most liberating sound around, full of teenage hormones and sheer joy. Enjoy our custom playlist as you read.

“I’m five years ahead of my time!” – In the beginning…

Feb. 9, 1964: The Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show for the first time. The next day, at high schools across America, it seemed as if every teenage boy had washed the Brylcreem out of his hair and combed it down, hanging it as far in his eyes as his haircut allowed. Every girl might have scrawled “I luv Paul” on her notebooks. That afternoon, musical instrument shops in every U.S. city were desperately reordering electric guitars, amps and drums. 

Garages in every neighborhood soon reverberated with rudimentary bands working out “I Saw Her Standing There” and “Twist And Shout,” dreams of Beatlemania dancing in their heads. Those makeshift practice spaces obviously gave these bands a name in later years. But this impulse existed prior to the British Invasion, in the form of teen combos working sock hops and frat dances, playing dirty instrumentals thick with overblown saxophones and reverb-drenched guitars. The hairy, hydra-headed beast of John, Paul, Ringo and George changed the musical and aesthetic focus.

The Beatles’ musical sophistication eluded the capabilities of most kids’ uncalloused fingers. The crude bashing of some of the British acts following in the Fab Fours’ wake — the Kinks, the Yardbirds and especially the Rolling Stones — proved more accessible. All deployed an aggressive take on American R&B, their Vox AC30 amps pushed into harmonic overload to compete with screaming teenage audiences. When Stones guitarist Keith Richards distorted “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’s” three-note motif with a Maestro Fuzz-Tone, fuzz replaced dirty saxes as every garage band’s signature. British bands amplified the blues’ inherent aggression. Their American disciples amplified the aggression further. 

As Yardbirds manager Giorgio Gomelsky remembered in 2001: “The Yardbirds played all across America in 1965. When we came back six months later, every local band was the Yardbirds!”

Read more: These punk records from 2000 led the genre into a brand-new century

He’s right. Dig “Psychotic Reaction,” San Jose’s Count Five’s sole hit single. It’s the greatest Yardbirds record the Yardbirds never recorded. They numbered among an elite group of garage bands who broke past local stardom, landing at least one single nationally: The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie,” the Standells’ “Dirty Water,” “Pushin’ Too Hard” by the Seeds, “We Ain’t Got Nothin’ Yet” by the Blues Magoos, “96 Tears” by Question Mark & The Mysterians (featuring that other ‘60s garage instrumental mainstay, the wheezy Vox or Farfisa organ). Some of the rawest, best bands — such as Seattle’s Sonics, arguably the first punk band in the form we know — couldn’t chart with chaotic crunchers a la “He’s Waitin’.” Others, including Austin, Texas’ 13th Floor Elevators, applied LSD experimentation to their raunchy sounds on the glorious “You’re Gonna Miss Me.” That strain became known as psychedelia.

The Garage epoch blipped on rock’s timeline, though it’s arguably the music’s very essence. Most bands lasted as long as graduation or the draft allowed. But fuzz-toned echoes of that blip rang into the following decades.

“You’re gonna miss me, baby” – Nuggets and the ‘70s

The ‘70s initially resembled an army of James Taylors armed with acoustic guitars, strangling the life out of music. Then there were so-called “rock” bands with no roll, playing endless guitar and drum solos onstage. It felt as if you needed to enroll at a conservatory just to buy a Les Paul. Where was the excitement of just six years before? Or of 1956? No wonder Iggy And The Stooges and the New York Dolls had to happen!

It didn’t escape a cadre of rock journalists — Lester Bangs and Dave Marsh at Creem, Greg Shaw at Who Put The Bomp?, Lenny Kaye — that the Dolls and Stooges were possibly the last garage bands, Marshall amps relacing Vox’s. They longed for scratchy old 45s of “Dirty Water” when shutting their radios off on “Fire And Rain.” Nostalgic articles such as Bangs’ “Psychotic Reactions And Carburetor Dung” rhapsodized the garage moment. Marsh named the sound “punk rock” in describing Question Mark & The Mysterians in 1969. He inadvertently named rock’s next revolution.

Read more: Why Green Day’s 1994 BBC Sessions sound better with a cup of coffee

Elektra Records’ Jac Holzman charged Kaye with assembling an oldies collection. The future Patti Smith Group guitarist delivered a codification of ‘60s garage — Nuggets: Original Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era 1965-1968. Across two LPs, it encompassed everything from hits a la “Psychotic Reaction” and the Knickerbockers’ raunchy Beatles approximation “Lies” to such obscurities as “Run, Run, Run” by the Third Rail. This was no K-Tel oldies sampler. This was a taste and style, carefully curated, the first serious recognition of garage impulses. 

Kaye called it “punk rock” in his liner notes. “Garage rock” became the signifier later in the decade, once punk-as-we-know-it arrived in the mid-’70s. But Nuggets entered the record collections of virtually every participant in first-wave punk’s 1975-1979 explosion. Television covered the 13th Floor Elevators, the Cramps recorded “Psychotic Reaction” among others, Suicide deconstructed “96 Tears” — the list is endless. Then came bands consciously giving garage a ‘70s makeover — Los Angeles’ Droogs, Boston’s DMZ (who resembled the Stooges playing Nuggets), even San Francisco’s Flamin’ Groovies. (Beginning as an original garage band in 1965 proved advantageous!) Perhaps the Ramones and the Sex Pistols were the Sonics’ revenge?

“Are you gonna be there when I set the spark?” – Garage enters the ‘80s

As Ronald Reagan was sworn in as America’s 40th president and the excitement of ‘77 punk gave away to the hyper assault of hardcore, factions of punk’s fanbase grew disenchanted. One of the directions their antennae divined? Garage punk.

Fanzines such as Mike Stax’s still-extant Ugly Things poured over the minutiae of these crackling old homemade singles, figuring out who manufactured the tubes powering the Misunderstood’s amps and other mystic arcana. Yet, more semi-legal reissue compilations of garage 45s flooded the market — Pebbles, Boulders, Rubble, Back From The Grave. A new wave of garage bands — now calling themselves garage bands — emerged, faithfully recreating the sound of ‘66, down to their buzzy antique Vox amps, Brian Jones haircuts and stovepipe corduroy trousers pulled over Chelsea boots. Be it L.A.’s the Unclaimed, NYC’s Fuzztones or Headless Horsemen, or even the relatively successful Fleshtones and Australia’s Hoodoo Gurus, all shook it down in a good, relatively faithful fashion. 

Pride of place goes to Rochester, New York’s Chesterfield Kings and Boston’s Lyres, a  DMZ offshoot. Alongside U.K. garage polymath Billy Childish’s 5,000,000 bands — Thee Milkshakes, Thee Mighty Caesars, Thee Headcoats and others boasting a King James edition definitive article — Chesterfield Kings and Lyres distinguished themselves with strong songwriting smarts and a rejection of garage revivalism’s cartoon/fashion aspects. These were solid punk bands, regardless of the ‘60s influences. Mightiest of all were Sweden’s Nomads, wedding 1966’s fuzz-tone thrust to modern metal amplification and ‘77 aggression. They’re the ‘80s garage kings.

Read more: Revisit ‘Nimrod:’ the moment Green Day ripped up their own rulebook

“My love is stronger than dirt” – The ‘90s renovate the garage

Garage was no longer the Sound Of ‘66 Today, in the Nirvana/Bill Clinton era. The garage musicians of the 20th century’s final decade rejected the cartoon/fashion aspects of ‘80s garage revivalism almost wholesale. Rather, greaser and Tiki culture seemed to invade the garage scene, as bands more resembled ‘70s punkers: Leather jackets, ripped jeans, and gas station attendant shirts. As they dressed down, they also amped up. Bands such as Bellingham, Washington State’s Mono Men (whose leader Dave Crider also helmed prestigious modern garage label Estrus), Spokane’s Makers or San Antonio’s Sons Of Hercules owed as much to the Nomads or even the Replacements as the Standells. Even grunge heroes Mudhoney flashed intensified garage influences. There was also Detroit’s bass-less sub-mod three-piece the Gories, almost reducing garage into a noisy, post-no wave din.

Then there were the Mummies, writhing about in filthy gauze bandages and attacking ramshackle cheap equipment, proudly reveling in the glory of the lo-fi raunch they called “budget rock.” They deliberately snubbed propriety, recording crude singles such as “Stronger Than Dirt” everywhere but studios. They rejected Sub Pop’s interest, expressing disgust with the “hippie heavy-metal label.” They named a singles collection Fuck CDs! It’s…The Mummies! Their example inspired such lo-fi garage-istas as Supercharger, the Rip Offs and Oblivians. Budget-rock’s apotheosis: Memphis destructo-punks the Reatards, featuring prodigy Jay Reatard.

“A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back” – Garage in the 21st century

NYC’s the Strokes supercharged traditional garage with Velvet Underground-esque angular ‘60s punk-isms and the ‘70s Lower East Side’s artier side. Then they sold England on the fact that they were The Next Big Thing. It worked. Debut album Is This It launched in the U.S. one month after 9/11, its single “Last Nite” democratizing radio and MTV. The door knocked off the hinges, Detroit’s White Stripes walked through, followed by the Hives, the Vines, the Datsuns and other bands with/without definitive articles. None were Count Five revivalists. 

The White Stripes’ glory reflected momentarily on their hometown, the Von Bondies, the Go, the Paybacks, Ko And The Knockouts and ex-Gories Mick Collins’ Dirtbombs squinting into the spotlight. In the U.K., the Libertines followed the Strokes’ blueprint for modern garage stardom, their literate, scrappy English interpretation of the Replacements now in vogue. British electric guitar sales skyrocketed briefly.

Jay Reatard leaped from the Reatards to the Lost Sounds, then seemingly a new band daily for years, until going solo mid-decade. Blood Visions entirely rewrote garage’s rules: Ornate songwriting a la Queen, played with hardcore’s vicious attack, recorded cheaply, remaining well produced. The entire world is still trying to catch up with his genius.

Read more: The 10 best punk drummers of the 1970s displayed great skill and power

Jack White parlayed the dissolved-since-2010 White Stripes’ success into a cottage industry all his own: bands such as the Raconteurs and the Dead Weather, and his own solo work. It all centers around his Third Man business empire, the label and his record stores helping restore the luster of vinyl. His own music skews less garage-y as time has advanced, though it remains ineffably rock ‘n’ roll.

The Jim Jones Revue crashed the piano-banging spirit of the ‘50s into lo-fi garage in the ‘10s. Ireland’s teenage Strypes beelined to garage’s source material — ‘60s British R&B a la the Yardbirds — for their inspiration. Garage’s ‘20s spirit manifests in Sweden’s the Maharajas, or French fuzz brutarians Les Grys-Grys. Garage is a never-dying rock ‘n’ roll strain. If budding musicians need to make a basic, fun, hormone-drenched racket requiring fuzzboxes? Garage punk thrives. And it feels like this!

Thanks to Ugly Things editor/Loons frontman Mike Stax for his garage expertise.

This APTV video runs down some of the essential titles that marked an emotionally charged and musically fertile year. Going to the local independent record store was a weekly excursion for a lot of people. It was noted by more than a few magazines that the best music of a generation was not being played on the radio, barring college stations. (Now that we think about it, that pronouncement was only partially true. We would never, ever dis this genius.)

Read more: These 15 punk albums from 1985 are the roots of alternative rock

The passage of time is always a great arbiter of what denotes a “classic.” This list of punk albums from 1984 holds up as a snapshot of the times. Plenty of era-defining bands released massively influential works that year. Those are records that continue to radiate heat decades later. The video also reconsiders the work of rock ‘n’ rollers who inadvertently created a decidedly anti-punk movement. On the collector tip, there’s an international compilation album that effectively proved that punk and hardcore were no fleeting fads. Also of note was the revered soundtrack to what may have been the first punk movie.  In some culture-starved areas of America, said soundtrack may have been the first (and only) punk album your hometown record store carried.

Four years ago, practically every long-in-the-tooth punk rocker was saying how a Republican in the White House would resuscitate punk rock to its former glory. There’s a good chance that they own most (if not all) of the punk albums of 1984 on this list. It was the year the mood of the country and the noise of the underground embraced for some cauterizing culture.

The American underground was getting increasingly agitated with what seemed as obvious as the dye job atop Reagan’s skull: He didn’t give a fuck about anyone who wasn’t a rich Republican. The rest of us could eat an increasingly nutrient-deficient cake. Somehow, he conned a larger number of middle Americans to vote for him over the admittedly uncharismatic Walter Mondale that November. Hardcore’s reaction? Get more extreme. The records got angrier. Some bands, as they became more proficient at their instruments, learned to play the heavy-metal sounds they grew up with. A few worked at their songwriting, getting more sophisticated. Others got weird.

Read more: These 15 punk albums from 1980 were complete game-changers

Punk, hardcore and indie retrenched and produced some of the most prime records it would be responsible for. These are the best punk albums of 1984.

Hüsker Dü – Zen Arcade

Starting off the best punk albums of 1984 list is the world’s first punk opera, 20 years before Green Day‘s American Idiot. Hüsker Dü’s 1983 already was jangly and melodic without sacrificing punkiness. Witness guitarist/vocalist Bob Mould’s title track to the previous LP Everything Falls Apart and drummer/vocalist Grant Hart’s “Diane” on Zen’s EP antecedent Metal Circus. Now came this double-album narrative of a troubled teen leaving an abusive home, joining the military, finding love, losing her to drugs and then discovering it’s all a dream. It encompassed psychedelia, folk, ’60s jangle pop and hardcore. ’Twas the Huskers’ ticket to greatness.

Minutemen – Double Nickels On The Dime

Meanwhile, San Pedro, California’s punk-funk unit Minutemen decided they’d get a double album, too. There’s no coherent storyline—just 45 songs in 81 minutes, recorded with new producer Ethan James. But this was hardly a toss-off. Some of Minutemen’s most deathless music is spread across these sides, such as the Jackass theme song “Corona” and the autobiographical “History Lesson Part 2.” CD and digital streams miss key tracks (“Little Man With A Gun In His Hand”), but this is still Minutemen’s definitive work.

Read more: These 15 punk albums from 1981 have some of the year’s best music

The Replacements – Let It Be

Every Replacements release was going from strength to strength, as was seemingly every record-of-the-day originating from Minneapolis. Paul Westerberg wrote possibly the best songs of this (or any) time in “Answering Machine,” full of emotional, lyrical depth. Who else pens lines such as, “How do you say I miss you/To an answering machine?” Or the dare of a hook from “Unsatisfied”: “Look me in the eye/Then tell me that I’m satisfied…” Lead guitarist Bob Stinson, his teenage brother Tommy on bass and drummer Chris Mars supplied more rock ’n’ roll swagger than the entire hardcore scene could muster. Let It Be was sublime. Still is. Since this writer can’t find locate Stinson-era live footage of “I Will Dare,” here’s some nice ‘n’ raw live audio with a great pic of Bob in a mini-skirt.

Black Flag – My War

A legal dispute with Unicorn Records kept Black Flag from releasing anything for over two years. So they worked on material with new drummer Chuck Biscuits (ex-D.O.A.), emphasizing the heavy-metal/free-jazz influences emergent on Damaged. That and the band having grown their hair long before embarking on My War‘s accompanying tour puzzled the fuck outta Mohican youth, who could no longer slam to molten jams such as “Scream.” But the title track was as punk as anything Black Flag had ever released. And HC outfits across the world wondered if metal was now an option.

Read more: These 15 punk albums from 1982 continue to bring the fire to this day

Ramones – Too Tough To Die

The band who defined punk to the world early on appeared increasingly irrelevant through the ’80s. Their last three albums saw them teamed with ill-fitting producers (Phil Spector, 10cc’s Graham Gouldman), a desperate drive for radio hits now motivating proceedings. Hardcore must have made them feel redundant. Teaming up with early producers Ed Stasium and Tommy “Ramone” Erdelyi (their original drummer) and installing new drummer Richie, Joey and Dee Dee provided some of their toughest material, such as “Wart Hog” and “Mama’s Boy.” It turned out serious Ramones was great Ramones. And another killer punk album of 1984.

Read more: The 15 punk albums of 1978 that still rock today

Various – Repo Man soundtrack

Two compilation albums made it onto our best punk albums of 1984 list. This was the opening salvo of an incredible filmography for indie director Alex Cox. Repo Man starred Emilio Estevez as angry suburban punk rocker Otto, who falls into a job as an automobile repossession agent trained by crusty vet Harry Dean Stanton. Wacky high jinks ensue involving radioactive isotopes, aliens and the U.S. government. Cox curated a soundtrack that served as an incredible U.S. punk primer, with a title track from Iggy Pop, plus modern classics from Black Flag (“TV Party”), Fear (“Let’s Have A War”), Suicidal Tendencies (“Institutionalized”) and the Circle Jerks turning in a hilarious lounge parody of their own, “When The Shit Hits The Fan.” It became a staple of any trashed-out ‘’80s punk house or apartment.

Various – International P.E.A.C.E. Benefit Compilation

Assembled by MDC’s Dave Dictor and the staff of left-leaning punk zine Maximum RockNoll, P.E.A.C.E. stood for “Peace, Energy, Action, Cooperation, Evolution.” The cast compiled showed the international scope of left-wing punk/hardcore, with over 50 bands from across the globe spread across two LPs. Though it featured some of the scene’s major bands (The Dicks, Dead Kennedys, D.O.A., Crass and even Butthole Surfers, whose content rarely reflected their politics), —P.E.A.C.E. was effective at showing how punk had invaded far-flung corners such as Italy, Japan, West Germany and more.

Read more: The 15 best punk albums of 1983 include eternal hardcore classics

Agnostic Front – Victim In Pain

This is the record that would define New York hardcore. Agnostic Front began as a skinhead outfit, helmed by guitarist Vinnie Stigma and singer Roger Miret (who became the permanent frontman after several predecessors). This led to antagonism from fanzine press, accusing them of the same racism and nationalism that characterized U.K. skin culture, belied by this album’s anti-racist “United And Strong.” The raw power, velocity, thick guitar tone and unbridled AF anger exuded was a potent force, inspired by survival in NYC’s dangerous street life.

Butthole Surfers – Psychic… Powerless… Another Man’s Sac

Dead Kennedys singer Biafra already issued a debut EP on his Alternative Tentacles label by these drug-crazed Texas weirdos. With their debut LP finally unleashed via Detroit hardcore imprint Touch And Go, the core of singer Gibby Haynes, guitarist Paul Leary and drummer King Coffey found a connection between psychedelia, black comedy and punk. The results felt infinitely more dangerous and subversive than your average anti-Reagan thrash band, usually named something like ATI (Any Three Initials). Tracks such as “Gary Floyd” felt like they could destroy the universe at will.One of the best and weirdest punk albums of 1984. And beyond.

Read more: Black Flag: Five essential albums to get familiar with

Thee Milkshakes – Thee Knights Of Trashe

We finally meet Billy Childish, despite his self-issuing raw, crude punk records since 1977, beginning with the Pop Rivets. A dyslexic poet with over 50 volumes, the Rochester, Kent polymath has released over 100 LPs under various names. In 1984, he released his last LP with Thee Milkshakes, who resembled the early Clash recorded live at the Star Club in 1964—the intersection of Merseybeat and early Britpunk, a signpost toward the coming garage-rock revival. And one of the best punk albums of 1984.

Poison 13 – Poison 13

Austin’s Big Boys dissolved earlier in the year, ending one of the most celebrated and unique bands of early hardcore. Guitarist Tim Kerr and bassist Chris Gates rallied with Big Boys roadie Mike Carroll, a huge fan of ’60s garage punk/blues/rockabilly, plus rootsier punk a la the Cramps and the Gun Club. Poison 13‘s grungy debut was brought home by touring Seattle punk bands. It would greatly influence what happened there next.

Read more: Top 15 punk albums of 1977 that undeniably defined the year

Hanoi Rocks – Two Steps From The Move

This Finnish five-piece inadvertently inspired the entire Sunset Strip hair-metal scene. They’re more noted for Mötley Crüe singer Vince Neil’s vehicular manslaughter of their drummer Razzle during their first U.S. tour. The reality? Hanoi Rocks had not one metallic bone in their body. They looked like the New York Dolls and rocked like early Clash, making their debt to Mott The Hoople more explicit. And Hanoi Rocks were punk AF.

The Celibate Rifles – The Celibate Rifles

The greatest band of ’80s Australian punk now raced miles past any other contemporaries. Their second LP is also known as 5 Languages for depicting the group’s name in French, Arabic, English, Chinese and Spanish. Some of the tracks sounded like they’d learned several new musical languages, such as the back-to-back avant-jazz/Velvet Underground homages “Darlinghurst Confidential” and “Thank You America.”

Decry – Falling

Decry’s debut LP (produced by Social Distortion producer Chaz Ramirez at his Casbah Studio in Fullerton) is sufficient evidence that the 1977 punk sound remains vital in Southern California. They took an ill-advised hair-metal detour on the follow-up Japanese, likely influencing bassist Todd Muscat’s defection to ex-punks-gone-hesher Junkyard. But singer Farrell Holtz has a snarl that can cut diamonds, and Decry cut one of the best covers of the Dead Boys’ “Sonic Reducer” ever.