Unsurprisingly, no one shared my same enthusiasm for these sounds, finding the tone too preachy, the vocals too abrasive, but the tightness, the coiled energy, of squalling Gibson SG, the vocal interplay, sinuous basslines, and pitch-perfect skittering drums appealed to my inner prog dork but the lack of fussiness and self-indulgence was a revelation. Red Medicine somehow never got removed from the jukebox at Kent State, and my roommate and I used to find amusement in the way that certain songs would clear the room.
Minor Threat was a much more accessible common denominator, especially for those of us who loved noisy music and didn't do drugs and therefore felt out of step with the world, and was perfect for summer nights of driving aimlessly around Parmastan talking about things that seem both meaningful and ridiculous when you're 18 and you're realizing that your messed up country is about to get way more messed up.
The arcanity of the lyrics, free of the datedness of many of the contemporaries, let the universals of dealing with bureaucracy, sucky people, and general frustration be cathartic for whatever situation I fell into. "Public Witness" and "Great Cop" for the busybodies and bullies, "Long Division" for the breakups and disintegrations, here comes the argument, I'm still on a mission to never agree and keep my eyes open because the farther I go, the less I know.