X "Under the Big Black Sun" [1982]

This group of party-pooping vampires did an excellent job of sucking all the joy and wonder out of living in Southern California, and on "Under the Big Black Sun" they reach their zenith/nadir: nondescript rockabilly bar guitar playing, a rhythm section of brutish cavemen, and the most blisteringly horrendous pair of singers ever to destabilize chemicals with their "harmonies." Exene and John Doe make weird, awful new dissonant chords with their vocalizations, and somehow have the temerity to front this band of loser-misfits that was for some reason celebrated for exposing the seedy underbelly of life in LA. I'll bet anything that any random drunk on Sunset Boulevard can sing better than these chumps. Otherwise, their semi-digested paperback knowledge apparent in their lyrics reaffirm that a (very) little knowledge can be a (very) dangerous thing. Because they're punkers, they'd probably be flattered by such a comment, but even X realizes they're just going to wind up face down in some dive by the end of the night. Better you didn't hang around such reprobates if you know what's good for you.