You Don't Hate Punk. You Hate the Version Someone Yelled at You.

Somewhere along the line, punk got sold back to us as a costume: safety pins, a sneer and a song that's over before you've found the volume knob. The costume is real, and some of us still wear it. But the records that came out of 1977 to 1979 were stranger, smarter and frankly prettier than the reputation. There were love songs. There were guitar solos. There was a saxophone.

So this list is for the friend who says they hate punk. They don't. They hate the version someone yelled at them.

Television, "Marquee Moon" (1977). The band that helped turn CBGB into a scene played long, interlocking guitar lines, and the title track runs past 10 minutes. A punk record with a guitar solo you could set a watch by. Start with "Marquee Moon" itself and don't skip ahead.

Wire, "Pink Flag" (1977). Twenty-one songs in about 35 minutes, many of them ending the moment the idea is finished. It sounds less like rage than like editing. Anyone who has ever cut a meeting short will understand. Start with "Three Girl Rhumba."

X-Ray Spex, "Germfree Adolescents" (1978). Poly Styrene sang about plastic, shopping and identity with a voice like a fire alarm and a saxophone running alongside her. She was 21 and writing about consumer culture better than most columnists. We covered the dress code she helped write recently. Start with "The Day the World Turned Day-Glo."

Buzzcocks, "Singles Going Steady" (1979). A compilation of the Manchester band's singles, nearly all of them about falling for the wrong person. Pete Shelley wrote love songs at punk speed. It's the best breakup record that sounds like it's having a good time. Start with "Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)."

The Undertones, "The Undertones" (1979). Five lads from Derry, Northern Ireland, and a debut so sweet it's almost embarrassing. The radio DJ John Peel loved "Teenage Kicks" enough to play it twice in a row on air. Start there, then admit you're smiling.

The Slits, "Cut" (1979). Produced by the reggae producer Dennis Bovell and full of space, bass and dub echo, this sounds like nothing else from the year. The cover, with the band in nothing but mud, is a better manifesto than most lyrics. Start with "Typical Girls."

The Clash, "London Calling" (1979). A double album sold for about the price of one, with reggae, rockabilly, ska and pop under one roof. If your friend still says they hate punk after this, they've simply decided to. Start with "Train in Vain," which was a hidden track that wasn't even on the sleeve.

If any of this sticks, the scene that made it has just been let into the Rock Hall, and the old clubs are still worth a pilgrimage.

Play your friend one song from this list. Don't tell them it's punk until it's over.