Between the mediocrity of the records he made while in decline and the overshadowing notoriety that comes from an early death, the music that Jeffrey Lee Pierce made as the guiding light of The Gun Club has been criminally underappreciated. Of course, it doesn’t help that those albums went from the cut-out bin to out-of-print even before he passed away in 1996 from a blood clot after years of abusing himself with drugs and alcohol. If history rewarded innovation and conviction, Pierce would be regarded in the same hierarchy as his contemporaries in X and The Cramps, whose Kid Congo Powers got his start as Brian Tristan in The Gun Club.

Perhaps reissues like Superior Viaduct’s new pressing of the band’s debut, Fire of Love, on CD will help give The Gun Club its due. Certainly one listen to this record should convince anyone of the band’s potency. Two years after forming in Los Angeles, the band recorded this first album, with Tito Larriva of The Plugz producing six tracks and The Flesh Eaters’ Chris Desjardins producing the other five. Powers had already left to join The Cramps and was replaced by Ward Dotson, while the band was rounded out by former Bags members Rob Ritter and Terry Graham on bass and drums, respectively. The album came out on LA label powerhouse Slash’s Ruby imprint in August of 1981.

The album lurches out of the gate with “Sex Beat.” Few songs embody rock’s ethos like this one, combining a primitive backbeat, a killer riff, and lyrics that bespeak sex and danger at once while commanding us to “move!” I mean is there a better line than, “We can fuck forever, but you will never get my soul?” With this album, Pierce defined The Gun Club aesthetic, tapping the blues for both sound and its crossroads archetype. That, of course, is most obvious with “Preaching the Blues.” Here, Pierce takes the Robert Johnson classic and injects it with a little punk freneticism and his own brand of hellfire. One gets the impression that when he sings about getting religion in the song’s refrains, he’s already found it, with it being the blues of which he howls.

The centerpiece of the record and the song for which he is best known is “She’s Like Heroin to Me.” (Interestingly, Powers would later cover this song in Congo Norvell, with Mark Eitzel guesting on vocals.) On this track, slide guitar is juxtaposed with a propulsive riff while Pierce elaborates on his simile. Of course, the song resonates all the more for Pierce’s fatal affair with smack, but it is also powerful because it rings true as a classic femme fatale tale.

“For the Love of Ivy” also stands out on the record. Here, Pierce channels his inner voodoo child, singing lines like, “Gonna buy me a graveyard of my own, kill everyone who ever done me wrong.” It’s reminiscent of The Cramps, though it’s doubtful Lux Interior would ever have sung about hunting someone named Ivy. As the jangly guitar attack melts away, the song devolves into animalistic hoots and hollers, Pierce convincingly conveying a tormented soul. “Free Spirit,” which follows, is seemingly in contrast, presenting a clear mindset lyrically and a straightahead mix of rock touchstones.

Pierce and company return to the blues with the traditional “Cool Drink of Water.” Pierce coos and howls his way through the song, effectively contrasting his approach with that of his luminaries. Like the rest of the record, the song vividly highlights The Gun Club’s unique dissemination of the past and the present day punk of their environ. As such, Fire of Love is an album for the ages, one that resonates with the kind of verve that can only be summoned by a true believer. Though he would eventually tarnish his legacy, in the moment that is the 11 songs on this record, Pierce held that kind of messianic presence, delivering the gospel in spades.