The famous line about the Damned is that they did British punk first and they did it the worst. They had the first British punk single (New Rose), and the first album (this one, Damned Damned Damned) months before either the Clash or the Sex Pistols dropped their debuts (and in the case of the Sex Pistols, their final statement). While those two bands are mentioned with an air usually reserved for deities, the Damned are left in the dustbin with us mortals. Why?

Well, first of all, there are no pretentions for significance or political maneuvering on this album. Not once is a riot invoked, a power structure dismantled or a current event called upon to illustrate the hypocrisy of class structure. They'll leave that to the simmering intelligence of the Clash, the laughter-on-edge-of-tears ranting of the Sex Pistols. The Damned, they want to have fun. Oh the Damned just want to have fun.

The words here can be as silly as the cover -- the four members smacked in the face with cream pies -- or as hedonistic and slyly despairing as goth. In fact the singer, Dave Vanian, would oftentimes affect a gothic croon and rock the audience in a crisp suit and white face paint, full in the throes of Alice Cooper obsession. I'd even argue that "Feel the Pain," on this album, is goth's first, shambling steps. And as we all know, goth is considered kid's music, nothing of merit, according to the tastemakers. No die-hard punk wants to consider that their movement's first release was also the start of another, much-derided movement; that these two genres have always, in fact, been connected at the wrist. Critics also like to forget this fact, hence the Damned being written off as answers to trivia questions more than musicians.

If you follow the Damned's history, you'll know that after a completely confused and falling apart attempt at a second album, the band broke up, only to reform without one of the founding members (Brian James) to record the triumphant, punky-as-hell Machine Gun Etiquette in 1979. That album, too, is speckled through with gothic concerns and troubling dreamscrapes among the frenzied guitar and punk meltdown. After that album's success, Vanian took the band headlong into the boundary between goth and punk. Backed by a drummer as propulsive as Rat Scabies, a guitarist as expressive as Captain Sensible, where could they go wrong? A lot of places, actually, but I'm getting ahead of the story -- one that should be followed on your own time, from album to album (barring a few pit stops).

For the debut, the group is Scabies, Vanian, James and Sensible. James writes most of the songs and plays guitar; Sensible is on bass here. In fact, the first thing we hear is Sensible plucking away at a repeating riff to open "Neat Neat Neat." The rest of the band storms in behind him, as Vanian, in full punk throttle, launches himself through the verses into a chorus that boils down to "She can't afford a cannon. She can't afford a gun at all." "Neat Neat Neat" is spat out so fast it sounds like one syllable in triplet, "Ne-ne-ne." Somehow, a melody takes shape in the blurred mess, but they're already into the second song by the time you've discovered it.

That would be "Fan Club," an ode to dedicated fans who stay out in the rain, smoking cigarettes, waiting for the club to open and the band to go on stage. A bit egotistical, wouldn't you say, seeing as this is the band's first album? What fan base? But it's really just a joke -- nobody thought they'd be recording again after this album. Vanian lets in some humor with verses that hint "If you wanna see more of me ... see me after the show." This song already shows the developing range of the band, going from a hammer-down punk blow-up to this tune's softer, more spindly creation.

"I Fall" pushes the Damned headlong into pounding music again. The words are slurred, so it may be hard to follow the story, which is simple enough to boil down. Vanian (through James' words) is sick of his hedonism and his one-night stands, and wants to be saved. Then he decides it would be better, and easier, to bring someone down to his level -- "Don't be scared to follow/It's no crime/You're a falling angel/Before your time." Hee hee.

"Born to Kill" features Scabies' continuing to pound apart his kit, in service to a silly song that equates sexual conquests with a hit-man's ability to kill. It quickly wooshes into "Stab Yor Back," a song written by Scabies himself about scene-jumpers, under the guise of a new kid in town who comes up to you and says "Now that you're 25, never gonna live till you're 29." The awkward, stilted way in which that threat is strung together makes it more adorable than dangerous. A perfect fit for this band.

"Feel the Pain," my favorite song on this record, will take you by surprise. You got a taste of the band's ability with "Fan Club," but that was a tossed-away sentiment. This one feels close to home, slow and atmospheric despite the trebly production. Vanian whispers much of the verses and croons the choruses. The song paints a picture of a drugged-out girl, hurt by her peers, deciding whether or not to drop out of the world. The subtlety of the band backing him makes his words that much more powerful -- at one point, in a faux-laugh, saying "ha-ha-hacking" that almost feels like tears are caught in his throat. Rather than the political, when the Damned decide to be serious, they wallow in the personal.

Beginning with the second side, the songs begin to blur together. Not in a bad way, mind you, or even a non-distinctive way. The first side showed the band's growing range, so the Damned must have decided, right, we proved we're musicians, now we might as well pull out all the stops -- just go crazy. This side just speeds faster and more ferociously from song to song until everything explodes into "I Feel Alright," an energy-packed cover of The Stooges' "1970."

"New Rose" opens with the conversational "Is she really going out with him?" before punching out of the speakers, a celebratory offering, shouting goodbye to an old girlfriend in order to make room for the new. For all the good news, there is still much bitterness -- "See the sun it shines/Don't get too close, or it'll burn your eyes" a prime example. Vanian's at the state between being happy and being cautious of his relationship, ending on a down note with "I don't deserve somebody this great/I'd better go, or it'll be too late." Still, self-sabotage never sounded so vibrant.

"Fish" is a bizarre song where Vanian pleads to sleep with his lover, promising that he won't smell like fish this time. It barrels into "See Her Tonight," where Vanian is impressed by his girl's down-to-earth nature. She laments that "rock'n'roll's gonna end up like art," and that sums up the Damned's attitude, too. They're doing their best to keep rock'n'roll an outlaw form. The song opens with the famous punk countdown "one-two-three-four!" and is probably the first recorded instance of it fronting a punk song. For a band making history, they sure don't seem self-conscious about it.

"1 of the 2" is a favorite of mine, because of the thrashy way in which the drums, bass and guitar meld on this tune. It's a good thing the music is so relentless, as the lyrics are half-baked to the point of incomprehensibility. What exactly does "With our saturation eyes, you think you can disguise all those meat things" mean? Minus one point for James.

"So Messed Up" is a balancing act. The music is fast and explosive, the lyrical content is juvenile. I know, I know, this band is all about having fun, but in the other tracks, I feel an intelligence behind the words. On this one, Vanian sings of a girl who's so messed up that "she doesn't like to ball ... she doesn't have any fun at all." Which is cute, but then it goes on to say that her face is a mess, that he'd put her out of her misery if it weren't a crime, and that she has no brain at all. Laying it on a bit thick, with broad, misogynist strokes.

The Damned acquits itself nicely of the previous misstep with "I Feel Alright." I have never heard the Stooges' original (I know, I'm such a poseur), but from other reviewers of the record, I've garnered that this version's a fun take, though a bit lacking compared to the original. What I like is the perfect lock of the instruments and the voices, calling down the years via someone else's song with energy so boundless, the only way to come down from it is to start the record over again and stop it sometime before the second side starts. Because I promise you, you're going for a ride. And you might end up with more than pie on your face for your trouble. You might end up with a grin.

Recommended: Yes