During the 1980s, streaking across the musical horizons ripped open by punk rock, there was an underground surge of sounds influenced by the sixties. Long-dormant genres of psychedelic, folk and jangle once again filled the air and had new life breathed into them. In some places, like L.A. with its Paisley Underground, well-defined scenes sprang up. Most everywhere else, however, these retro-inspired bands operated in relative isolation. And lurking in the shadows and alleyways of it all was a creature much more subversive and wild than the rest, a new strain of garage rock. Boston had the Lyres, Portland had the Miracle Workers, Pittsburgh had the Cynics ... and all of these bands shared a common ethos. Worshipping at the altars of the early Kinks, the Sonics, the Standells, "Louie, Louie," so-easy-anyone-could-do-it simplicity and screaming volume, these bands were sixties-sounding, but reborn with a punk heart. Three chords, fuzz guitars, Farfisa organs, plenty of snarl and a penchant for mixing long-lost nuggets from the golden age of garage with attitude-laced originals were the order of the day.

Coming in at the tail end of this movement was one of Norfolk's own, the M-80's.

I was first introduced to the M-80's when a friend loaned me one of their 45's, "You've Been Told" backed with "What I'm After." It was the B-side that got me. Placing it on my turntable, the next couple of minutes found me in jaw-dropping awe of this band. The vocals were gritty and passionate, the singer moving seamlessly between a croon and a growl and a shout, and the guitar smoldered. The song itself was a slow, sinister crawl, ripe with tension, and threatened to explode at any moment. That explosion came at the end, in a burst of harmonica, bringing everything to its logical conclusion. The sense of control the band displayed throughout, while still oozing all the righteous abandon you'd expect from garage, was incredible. And the warm crackling of the needle-on-groove only added to its authenticity. This was what rock n' roll, what living, was all about. It was perfect. And like everything in Lenny Kaye's Nuggets pantheon, if the M-80's had never created anything else, "What I'm After" would stand forever as a monument for the ages.

The M-80's all-too-brief existence straddled a certain moment in time, during the late eighties and early nineties, just before the college rock scene and all its rich diversity got blown away by the enormity of grunge. And more than just a one-song wonder, the band went on to become legendary around these parts. While those years in Norfolk, with a thriving local scene and a steady diet of shows played at now-defunct venues like the King's Head and Friar Tuck's, are fondly remembered in general, the intensity of the M-80's live shows in particular, and their commitment to playing no holds-barred rock n' roll, have become the stuff of lore. People still talk about them to this day.

For the rest of us, for those who never had an opportunity to see them live, all we have are the recordings. And the music does live on. The library, in fact, has a self-titled collection of songs by the M-80's. Of course one should know this isn't exactly music for the tea-totaling crowd. The screamin' and shoutin' that lead off the first couple of songs are sure to scare off the faint of heart, and that's probably how the band wanted it. If you can hang in there, though, the rewards are plenty. The choice of covers alone - the Pretty Things' "Rosalyn," Q65's "I Got Nightmares," the Blues Magoos' "Gotta Get Away" - will tell you volumes about what to expect. A killer cover of the Dave Clark Five's "Any Way You Want It," with singer Eddie Pierce sounding eerily like David Johansen, also graces this collection, and will have you believing you've discovered a forgotten gem by the New York Dolls. And even with all the ruckus going on, there are quiet moments, too. The final track, "Spiderwebs (Song for Anna)," is as introspective a tune as you'll ever find, and is downright country-ish a la the Sticky Fingers- and Exile-era Stones.

Sadly, "What I’m After" isn’t on this disc, and while it might be sacrilegious to say, I’m not sure anything else they recorded can quite touch the pinnacle they reached with that song. But that's a personal opinion, and it certainly isn't a swipe at anything else this band achieved. If garage rock is up your alley, you're a rock 'n roll traditionalist who likes your music in a pure, unadulterated state, or you just want a taste of the old Norfolk scene, give these guys a listen. You'll be glad you did.

Somewhere in the library’s collection, amongst a scattered handful of local bands, hidden behind Minor Threat and Joni Mitchell, or, as the band itself once put it, somewhere between Mocksville and Harmony, are the Mockers. And in real life, just as in the library’s collection, the Mockers exist almost entirely under the radar.

To start with, the notion of an honest-to-goodness, ridiculously talented local band performing original songs in the power pop (or pure pop, or guitar pop, or whatever you want to call it) tradition seems too good to be true. Like the elusive dream of ever getting a professional sports team in Hampton Roads, it just ain’t gonna happen, right? Great music doesn’t happen here, or so the myth goes. And when you consider that one of the band’s songwriters lives in New York City, their strongest following is in Spain, and only on the rarest of occasions do they perform in Tidewater (a certain house party in Pungo circa 2001 comes to mind), calling them local might seem a stretch. But Seth Gordon, one of the two primary songwriters and quite possibly the prime mover of the band, lives and operates out of Ghent, so why not?

Although they’re relative unknowns, the Mockers, who took their name from a line in the movie A Hard Day’s Night, are no strangers to, well, at least near success. Their first album made a Billboard Critic’s Choice list back in 1995, they’ve racked up glowing praise in such high-profile places as Popmatters, enjoyed airplay on Little Steven’s Underground Garage, and even had a song featured on Love Monkey, an ill-fated series on CBS that only lasted for a few episodes back in 2006. And recent years have found their ranks joined by Robbie Rist (as guitarist/producer), who played Cousin Oliver on the Brady Bunch. So yes, they’ve flirted with fame and made a few dents in the mass consciousness, but the Mockers are still a long way from being a household name.

That said, the lack of a complete breakthrough Stateside hasn’t stopped them. Their first album took off in Spain, a haven for more traditional forms of rock’n’roll and pure pop, and they continue to cultivate a following in that sun-drenched nation to this day.

As for their sound, music is such a subjective thing, but the Mockers’ neighborhood is an easy one to describe. Probably the touchstone for all power pop bands, the Mockers’ hooks, melodies, use of bright, ringing guitars, and conciseness/economy of sound are all going to remind you of the Beatles. Harmonies are on loan from one Mr. Brian Wilson. Their second album, Living in the Holland Tunnel, was produced by the legendary Mitch Easter (of REM and Let’s Active fame), and that should tell you something, too. Comparisons to Matthew Sweet or the Rembrandts wouldn’t be wrong, and yet the Mockers’ songs are all their own. The music is expertly crafted, gives a nod to its influences without sounding derivative, and Seth has quite the knack (musical pun intended) for wordplay and the sardonic in his lyrics:

The saddest part is that you think you've been anointed/
Because you've got a few friends that seize upon your every word

You walk around and make believe that you're King Arthur/
When it seems to me that you're more like Richard the Third

Their third album, The Lonesome Death of Electric Campfire, shows the band expanding its boundaries with an infusion of Ramones-like, amped-up intensity, but it doesn’t sacrifice the melodic qualities of their previous work. The song "Willoughby Station," for one, with its horns and driving guitar, is one of the crunchiest pieces of baroque pop these ears have ever heard.

And yet, despite the quality, here these albums sit, not exactly begging to be heard (because the Mockers wouldn’t embrace that sort of desperation), but certainly worthy of an audience. If you’re curious, I’d recommend starting with the more intricate, lush-sounding Holland Tunnel, which may say something about me: I’ve always been a sucker for the craftsmanship of pop over the spontaneity of rock. Either way, though, you can’t lose. The Mockers’ first album is long out of print and their next one is still in the works, but the two the library owns are both fantastic and worth well more than a spin.