As the last song on Damaged begins, Henry Rollins introduces himself. “My name’s Henry and you’re here with me now,” he says. Then he growls, as he does on and off throughout the rest of the song. “I don’t even care about self-destruction anymore.” The song ends, and he’s nearly breathless. “Damaged, my damage!” He sounds like he’s gone through several lifetimes of torture. “No one comes in. Stay out!” It’s 1981 and he is 20 years old.
Rollins joined Black Flag less than a year earlier when he was just a fan who viewed them as hardcore punk godheads. In his memoir, Get in the Van, Rollins wrote of watching the band perform: “It was one of the most powerful things I’ve ever seen,” he said. “All the songs were abrupt and crushing. Short bursts of unbelievable intensity. It was like they were trying to break themselves into pieces with the music.” At that point, Dez Cadena was the vocalist, with bassist Chuck Dukowski and guitarist Greg Ginn handling the songwriting. When Cadena decided to move to rhythm guitar, Rollins was recruited to try out. Offered the spot, he accepted, and quit his day job managing a D.C. Häagen-Dazs store to move to California to be the new lead singer of Black Flag.
In the trifecta of early ’80s hardcore, alongside Minor Threat and Bad Brains, Black Flag crystallized what hardcore could do at its most crowd-pleasing. Minor Threat was more existential, and Bad Brains more romantic. Black Flag took the ethos of fast and loud and made it into a lifestyle. Though they’d achieved success as a band before Rollins, it’s the tone of his voice, simultaneously conveying anger and empathy, that elevates Damaged to its rightful position as a cornerstone document in the history of punk.
Thirty-five years on, Damaged still sounds absolutely berserk. Though made up of what is easily identifiable as “songs,” the record is at its most formidable when it becomes chaotic. Chuck Dukowski’s bass sounds like rubbing two giant sticks together to start a fire. His playing often feels like the way a Cro-Magnon man might approach rhythm, harsh and mean. Guitarist Greg Ginn is a wizard, playing his guitar like it’s a dental drill. With Cadena keeping some semblance of structure, Ginn shreds riffs apart, extending them into mini-solos across half a verse. He’s closer in spirit to Jerry Garcia or Sonny Sharrock than other hardcore guitarists. His playing is violently virtuosic, sliding between wild, fuzzed-out abandon and the immaculate conception of the chug that makes hardcore so exciting. While Cadena and Black Flag’s parochial drummer Robo establish a basic lifeline of stability, Ginn throws paint on the canvas straight from the bucket.