Legacy Looks: Top 10 Post-Punk Albums
Born a little too late for punk, this was MY music
I first became aware of punk rock around 1976 or 77 but at only 12 or 13 I was not going to shows or even buying the records. In 1978 and 79, however, I was starting to amass albums. Along with catching up with The Clash and Sex Pistols, I was immediately attracted to the eclectic sounds that followed punk, what we later called post-punk and new wave. For someone of my omnivorous tastes, this Cambrian explosion, with rock music being reinvented with nearly every release, was tremendously exciting. It felt like my music.
A recent opportunity to rank my favorite post-punk albums for the Songs From The Attic YouTube channel had me contemplating what distinguishes the genre beyond its literal chronological status. Yes, it came after punk, but what about what it sounds like - and what makes it different from new wave? In the WhatsApp convo that preceded taping the episode, I offered the idea of lineage. For example, you’re likely a new wave band if your lineage is The Beatles, Kinks, soul, country, and ska. You’re probably post-punk if your lineage is Roxy, Eno, Krautrock, and dub. Post-punk also has a strong sense of taking nothing for granted, reconsidering how instruments can sound and songs can be structured.
Of course, like any musical movement, the context beyond the art form is also important. The often tough, gnarly sounds of post-punk were a perfect soundtrack for the era’s fears of nuclear annihilation, either by accident or aggression, and a global turn to the right as represented by the rise of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher. And it seems there is no lack of need for sounds and songs to combat the encroaching darkness.
Post-punk’s influence continues to be felt today. On my July podcast alone, I referred to recent albums by Robber Robber, Font, and R.J.F. as post-punk. But for the sake of the show - and our sanity - we decided to confine our lists to the true post-punk era, which we defined as 1977-1982.
Even with all the parameters, I still vacillated over what to include and continued to second-guess myself during and after the show. But, hey, it’s only a list for this moment. I can change my mind anytime. Can’t I? Enough preamble - here’s the list, counting down from 10 as we did on the show, which you can watch below for more in-depth discussion of each choice. I’ve also included a handy Spotify playlist for your listening pleasure.
Basement 5 - 1965-1980 (Island, 1980) This is an album so bold, original, and uncompromising, that it took me 25 years to even like it - and by then I loved it. Genius production by Martin Hannett carefully shaped the noises produced by bassist Leo (Leo “EZ Kill” Williams, later of Big Audio Dynamite), guitarist J.R. (AKA Humphrey Murray…who was this madman?), drummer Charley Charles (of Ian Dury and The Blockheads), and vocalist Dennis Morris (mostly known as a photographer, filmmaker, and designer, he crafted the logo for Basement 5 - and Pil!). Explosive and unique, with a futuristic air comparable only to Killing Joke, Basement 5 stands alone. When it comes time to celebrate the “last white Christmas,” they’ve given us the perfect soundtrack of rubbery bass, slamming, massive drums, flamethrower guitar, and growled vocals. The hype was real thanks to Island Record’s promotional might and the involvement of Morris, who was quite the scenester back then. But his vocals initially proved a bridge too far in 1980. After a couple of decades of musical education and innovation, 1965-1980 suddenly made total sense. Naturally, any band this far out couldn’t last and they broke after only one other release, an EP called Basement 5 In Dub, which is also essential. Don’t wait for the 50th anniversary of this mad masterpiece, find it NOW.
The Raincoats - s/t (1979) I’m fairly certain I caught up with this absolute charmer after hearing In Love on Rough Trade’s epochal 1980 compilation, Wanna Buy A Bridge compilation, created to showcase for American audiences their astounding roster of new bands. Their plan worked as after hearing the lurching, violin-driven track, which felt like falling “in love,” I was ready to pay import prices for the debut album. The single proved to be no fluke, too, with song after song delivering heartfelt delights in homemade settings. As an all-female band, they also picked the perfect cover song, Lola by The Kinks, creating a definitive version for a new generation.
Wire - 154 (1979) Like Killing Joke, this was a band we made fun of during rehearsals of my band, the Young Aborigines. I Am The Fly? What was that? But I saved my credibility thanks to another compilation, the Warner Brothers’ loss-leader Troublemakers, a double album I ordered by mail for $2. I was mainly drawn by the live Sex Pistols material, recorded at their final concert. I had to hear Johnny Rotten say, “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” While more uneven than Wanna Buy A Bridge, there were still some nuggets to be mined on Troublemakers, especially Map Ref 41°N 93°W by Wire, an intoxicatingly sleek and mysterious bit of art rock. That sent me to the record store, again willing to shell out import dollars for 154, their third album. There was no bait and switch either, as the whole collection more than delivered on the promise of Map Ref. Also like Killing Joke, I never could have guessed this band, which imploded into hiatus after this album, would make significant inroads into the 21st century. Long may they reign.
The Feelies - Crazy Rhythms (1980) This was a gift from Stephen Diamond, one of my greatest musical mentors, who pointed it out when we were record shopping in Chicago. A completely original sound awaited me, with percussion emerging from silence soon joined by a storm of driving guitars. The songs were sometimes angular, with the tension released by perfect pop songs like Fa çe la and a hyped-up cover of Everyone’s Got Something To Hide (Except For Me And My Monkey). Crazy Rhythms is a unique album - and when they returned with The Good Earth six years later they almost sounded like a different band. They were - and are - still a good band, but that Crazy Rhythms sound was never to be repeated by them or anyone else.
My copies of these classic albums, all UK pressings, even The Feelies!
Gang Of Four - Entertainment! (1979) There’s a band calling themselves by this name on tour right now and, all due respect to drummer Hugo Burnham and singer Jon King, I am utterly baffled by the notion of a Gang Of Four without guitarist Andy Gill, who died in 2020. The sound of this classic debut is utterly defined by his slashing, brittle style, with twisted chicken-scratch rhythms interrupted by Hendrixian squeals and snarls, as if the previous 15 years of funk and rock guitar had been put through a shredder and reassembled nearly at random. Of course, Burnham’s drumming, which equaled Gill’s playing in its use of space, the pulsating bass of Dave Allen, and King’s stentorian bark - not to mention his clever, politically aware lyrics - were a big part of the sound of Entertainment!, but Gill was the lightning in the bottle they formed around him. I suppose anyone can learn how to play his parts, but then you’re essentially in a cover band. But no flogging of a deceased equine can dim the light of this classic debut. Follow-ups Solid Gold and Songs Of The Free are also great, with the first offering a more muscular approach and the latter embracing studio gloss. The fourth album, Hard, included a surprisingly successful turn to R&B with Is It Love, but the returns diminished thereafter.
Pere Ubu - Dub Housing (1978) “As Dub Housing took shape, it cut loose from punk, Hamann's production burnishing the edges but not the strangeness. If anything, the warmth and roundness of the sound made things both odder and more inevitable.” Read more here.
Killing Joke - s/t (1980) “…an album of molecular intensity that has continually fissioned into contemporary relevance ever since it emerged.” More ink was spilled about this earth-shattering, world-building debut on its 40th anniversary here.
Young Marble Giants - Colossal Youth (1980) “…I’ll always have this band and their sole album, as unyielding in their beauty as the Ancient Greek kouri that gave them their names. Just as sailors to Athens gazed in awe at those enormous sculptures, may sonic adventurers continue to discover the wonders of Young Marble Giants and Colossal Youth for decades to come.” Like Basement 5, this is one of the great one-offs in the history of recorded music and I rhapsodized about it here.
Joy Division - Closer (1980) Thanks to Stephen Diamond, who read about them in New Music Express or another U.K. magazine, we were aware of Unknown Pleasures when it came out. However, the only song we had heard was She’s Lost Control, which we had danced to at one shabby club or another. Even without hearing the full debut album, we got excited about seeing them in concert when U.S. dates were announced. Ian Curtis’ suicide put an end to those dreams and, in his honor, I went down to Bleecker Bob’s and bought an import copy of the second album. I dutifully brought it back to the Diamonds’ apartment, which was south of mine anyway, and we put it on Mike’s turntable. From the first moments of Stephen Morris’ tumbling drums, Peter Hook’s mesmeric bass, Bernard Sumner’s grinding guitar, and Curtis’ hauntingly powerful vocals, I was 100 percent sold. They’ve been one of my favorite bands ever since, with a distinctly doomy sound undimmed by time. Eventually, I got Unknown Pleasures, one of the great debuts and the equal of Closer in its pathbreaking quality. Both albums have a very different sound, partially thanks to Hannett’s studio wizardry, with Closer being my favorite by just a hair. I also love Still, the posthumous compilation, with its astonishing array of unreleased studio tracks and raw, explosive live material. While one wonders what could have been if Curtis had received the support he desperately needed, his legacy is writ in lightning across the very firmament of music, where it will resound forever.
Public Image Ltd. - Metal Box While I was aware that Johnny Rotten, now calling himself John Lydon, was up to something after the Pistols imploded at Winterland in January 1978, I must have remained ignorant of what it was for some time. The first PiL single came out in October of that year, but by 1980, when Mike D. invited me to see their first NYC concert, I turned him down, proclaiming I was “done with that three-chord shit.” Boy, did I feel like an idiot when he lent me his copy of Second Edition, the conventionally packaged version of PiL’s sophomore album! Jah Wobble’s bass, deep as the Marianas Trench, hit me right in the heart as Albatross began to play, and as the other pieces fell into place - David Humphrey’s hypnotic drums, Keith Levene’s sharp, minimalist guitar, and Lydon’s caterwauling vocals - it all sounded so right that I bonded to it immediately, body and soul. I grew to love every song on the album and still consider it a consummate work of art. In 1981, I got a copy of Metal Box, with the three 45 rpm 12-inches undoubtedly the best way to hear this incredible album. If you are lucky enough to have or acquire a copy, here’s a handy video to help you manage the creative packaging.
Honorable mentions (Note: many of these are as beloved as the records listed above, but were eliminated due to concern about genre-creep into goth, new wave, etc.) in alphabetical order:
Bauhaus - The Sky’s Gone Out
Bill Nelson’s Red Noise - Sound-On-Sound
Buzzcocks - A Different Kind Of Tension
The Birthday Party - Prayers On Fire
The Clash - London Calling
Mission Of Burma - Vs.
Siouxsie And The Banshees - Kaleidoscope
Simple Minds - Sister Feelings Call
The Slits - Cut
Talking Heads - Fear Of Music
Virgin Prunes - …If I Die, I Die
XTC - Drums And Wires
What are your favorites in this elusive genre? Let me know by leaving a comment!