Guy Garvey, Elbow
In 2002, the New Bomb Turks find themselves at a bittersweet junkture. They were one of the loveliest punk stains from the '90s-equal parts early-Stones, garage-y R&B, Stooges sleaze-thrash, and sardonic punk wit (all members have English degrees, hence song titles like “Born Toulouse-Lautrec” and “Apocalyptic Dipstick”). After eight albums (three on Epitaph), however, their bandwagon still has seats available. And despite tricking out their ride with some sax and piano, it's too late for a complete overhaul. Perhaps now, with the Hives epidemic breaking out in the U.S. and the Turks' reputed live chaos, they'll see some overdue interest. Or not. They could just assault rock dives until, finally, a critical member opts to dissect Shakespeare from a lectern to a sea of sorori-teens ogling professor's tattoos.