Lester Bangsâ€™ favorite song was â€œ96 Tearsâ€ by ? and the Mysterians. John Peelâ€™s favorite was â€œTeenage Kicksâ€ by the Undertones. Both were love songs by garage bands that could barely play chords and likely couldnâ€™t read music any better than I can. The message is clear: for the most vaunted of audiophiles, â€œbadâ€ is the best kind of rock music because the whole point is that itâ€™s supposed to sound bad to somebody, hopefully your parents and/or local law enforcement officials and church leaders. By those standards, the Atlanta group Black Lips is pretty damned good. Granted, their really-old garage sound is slightly more preening than authentic, but that seems to be purely a matter of birthdates. You donâ€™t get the sense that theyâ€™re being anything but their goofy-ass selves when they sing about having a bad day or set off on some epic live shows of Brian-Jonestown-Massacre proportions. For that, we salute them.