A Skeptic’s Guide to ZZ Top

Where else to start? "La Grange" is ur-Top. That rim-tapped drum intro, Gibbons's low-register mutter, imprecations to "have mercy" and his punctuating hums and growls, the way the thick and relentless boogie-blues onslaught kicks in, and of course the titular reference to the Texas brothel made famous by Dolly Parton in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. But lyrical innuendo is an afterthought, as Gibbons's jacked-up blues guitar work, bolstered by that... driving rhythm, is all-consuming, his "licks" a sensory metaphor: We're new kittens, tongue-bathed by Gibbons's loving, persistent, mother cat of a Stratocaster. The virtuosity displayed here and throughout Tres Hombres feels less ego-driven than compassionate; Gibbons offers up his chops as a gift.

In which our heroes, after a three-year hiatus, introduce the thematic triple enthusiasm for cars, women and flashy clothes that will carry them through their career — and, hell, make them millionaires a few short years down the road. Simpler in construction than many Top songs — verse, chorus, solo, rinse, repeat — "I'm Bad" is sing-along catchy, and Deguello's production is slicker than past efforts, but Gibbons's dusty-sunlight guitar lines and... the arpeggios he trades with Hill's bass give the track the tar-stick of hot asphalt.

Rick Rubin's production builds the rhythm section into a loading dock for the ramped-up crunch and lumber of Gibbons's guitar; the chorus, cribbed from the Houston Screwed-Up Click rap classic "25 Lighters," showcases his burnished shaman's voice, punctuated by Hill's impressive backup wail. What could be better (or weirder) for ZZ Top's comeback single than this anthemic Houston genre-crossing? How about debuting it in a malt-liquor commercial? Done.

The apex of 1980s ZZ Top. A furious, thickly-produced rhythm drive undergirds one of the hottest, simplest riffs in rock history, upon which Gibbons lays some of his wittiest lyrics. Hill punctuates with synthy Dolbian vocal accents, the era being what it is, but the whole thing resolves into a walking guitar solo so fine that it's possible to overlook the fact that those women in the video never would have really... gotten away with wearing leotards and jeans to all those black-tie events.

Barely more than a handful of verses thrown around an astonishing slide guitar solo, "Just Got Paid" is checklist blues — hitting the marks of lyric themes here, shuffling rhythm there — but sped up to double and triple time, the structure stretched to breaking point, folded back onto itself, and finally allowed to disintegrate completely to serve the raw, sweet glory of that guitar. Famously covered by both Rapeman and Ministry;... Steve Albini and Al Jourgenson are both avowed Top fanatics.

A tribute to the midcentury radio pioneers stationed south of the border who, unfettered by U.S. wattage limits and commercial concerns, blasted a wide range of country, blues and rock into the radios of impressionable young Texans, "Heard it on the X" finds Gibbons and Hill trading vocals while an infectious, repeated rhythm figure careens like a Mustang driven by a teenager in body-thrall to his favorite late-night DJ.

Notable for threading sexual innuendo throughout the Sam and Dave classic by switching around some pronouns ("You didn't have to squeeze me" becomes "You didn't have to squeeze it," and so on), the Top's cover is nevertheless spiritually, if not sonically, faithful. Gibbons's straining, gravel-scarred vocal delivery here is among his best ("Gibbons sings like a zipper," Lester Bangs wrote, praising the track in Rolling Stone), and his liquid-toned, meandering guitar solo... resolves into a tight, soul-revue a cappella breakdown before wandering off again.

The highlight of a debut album flawed by its overreliance on the mid-tempo groove, "Just Got Back From Baby's" is smooth and cool, with Gibbons's throaty, scraping vocal almost a croon; but the fuzzed-out insistence of his mournful, dust-bathed guitar wind-down exposes the grit underneath all that gleam.

Some of the most gloriously scuzzy guitar sounds ever laid to tape can be found on this highlight of 1976's Tejas, which owes as much debt to Zeppelin (better yet, AC/DC, though unless Gibbons and co. were importing records from Australia, probably not) as to Lightnin' Hopkins.

A swamp-stomp "Maneater" inexplicably bolstered by an accordion, "Alley-Gator" would be throwaway if it weren't for the lovingly dirt-damaged production and Gibbons's warm-as-Rio-Grande-mud guitar tone, lying down — in this deep album cut — the kind of licks that must keep Jack White up at night.