For my blood money, The Saints. Always.
Below, framegrabs from a dodgy VHS transfer of the film of their extraordinary late '77 single "Know Your Product." (Better quality versions exist on YouTube, but I prefer the olive drab scanlines...)
(Algy Ward, bass. He would bolt for The Damned after the failure of The Saints' PERFECT third album, Prehistoric Sounds.)
(Chris Bailey. 'Nuff spat.)
(Ivor Hay, the kit. Only Jon from Sightings comes close to matching this mad cat's pitiless élan.)
(Saints: Rotten's homicidal sarcasm welded to a rarefied observational order of lyrical acerbity, assayed by Aussie storage shed motherfucks who'd been practicing together every goddamned day for four years before their "big break." Completely exhilarating music, and never more so than today, 6,000 centuries after the fact...)
(The mighty Edmund Keupper, guitar... Also see Laughing Clowns, The Aints, etc.)
The Saints' greatness all but assured their demise. Post-Keupper, I'm hesitant to commit. But 74-78, holy God... Track down and buy the All Times Through Paradise 4xCD box immediately. We rocked those discs loud and often during the December LRS jaunt. Rat was dancing in his seat up 85 to Nashville, and that's a gloriously noiseome vision of Hell you'd never, ever want to miss.