Thanks to punk rock, I got a secret headphone soundtrack to my adolescent life crisis, and specifically this particular year of adolescent hell. Little did I know that these songs seeped in what I thought teenage rebellion should probably sound like, would stick with me for decades to come. In most cases, their meaning would adapt as the years went by, and mean even more. Sometimes they didn’t, and that was okay, too.
But it was those first punk rock records that meant everything; those were the ones that rewired the brain when I didn’t know it could (or should?) be rewired. You never forget your firsts: Ramones, X, Black Flag, the Dead Kennedys…these were the staples, the ones that were passed down, the ones that were reliably easy to find, the ones Rodney played. As my tastes continued to evolve, even louder and harsher stuff began to creep in.

Tom DeSavia for Crime and Punkishment