The Cars "The Cars" [1978]

Proof that the major-label learning curve was speeding up with capturing, capitalizing -- killing -- unique musical movements (in this case New Wave, which was otherwise begging for a merciful death anyway), The Cars released their debut into a near-total void of commercial pop-rock (ahhh, what blissful times those two seconds were) with songs about emotionally vacant materialism and one-upsmanship: a perfect blueprint for how the interests of the 80s would manifest themselves. Less a workmanlike bunch of pop-hungry shmoes like Tom Petty's Heartbreakers, The Cars were more a supergroup of underground Boston sell-out musicians; you can play frat-house gigs and cling to the conceit of coolness for only so long before you blow your brains out. Session-wank guitars and drums, along with Devo-via-ELP synthesizer embarrassments, make Brit-pubbers Squeeze sound cutting-edge. This is when labels were so desperate to find a palatable alternative to disco that they settled for the airy sweetness of cotton candy; The Cars were happy to fit the bill, to the detriment of hard-working rockers with any balls at the time. And unless you plan on making a career out of running the roller coaster at the perpetually migrating carnival, this is in no way the album for you.