Thin Lizzy in the 1970s were a goddamn gang. A crew of outlaws armed with twin guitars sharper than switchblades and Lynott’s poetry dripping like Jameson from a busted flask. They didn’t give a crap about fitting in, they were about swaggering into your local dive, kicking over the jukebox, and making sure their songs were the only ones anyone remembered. These three albums prove why Thin Lizzy will outlive every disco revival, every hair metal reunion, and every shit eating indie band with ironic mustaches. They were gods amongst men.

3. Bad Reputation (1977)

Bad Reputation is Thin Lizzy sharpening their knives and cutting out all the bullshit. Phil Lynott knew his own flaws and wore them like battle scars, and on this record he turns them into a motherfucking crown. Tracks like “Opium Trail” swagger like a junkie gunslinger walking into town high on his own myth. Brian Downey keeps the whole thing steady with drumming that’s equal parts jazz finesse and bare-knuckle brawl, while the six string tag team champions Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson’s twin guitar attack slices you to ribbons before you even know the fight started. And the title track? That’s Phil smirking in your face, saying, Yeah, I’m trouble. What the fuck are you gonna do about it? This album tosses out polish for sweat, blood, and black leather pressed into vinyl.

2. Black Rose: A Rock Legend (1979)

Black Rose a masterpiece of Celtic mythology wrapped in pure electric lust. With Brian Robertson hanging out with Motörhead, Lizzy brought in the genuine bad motherfucker Gary Moore into the mix, which is like pouring rocket fuel into a pint of Guinness and chugging it before the bar fight starts. “Do Anything You Want To” kicks the album off with a groove so cocky it could strut down the street buck naked, while Downey’s drumming makes the whole damn thing swing like a wrecking ball in 6/8 time. “Waiting for an Alibi” is Lynott at his most charming rogue, weaving tales of doomed love while Gorham and Moore lay down guitar solos that stab through the song like Cupid with a machete. And then comes the nine-minute title track, “Róisín Dubh (Black Rose),” where the band turns Irish folk into heavy metal opera mixing ancient ghosts and modern riffs into a colliding cosmic pub brawl. This is Phil Lynott writing his name on the stones of Ireland in lightning bolts.

1. Jailbreak (1976)

This is the goddamn battle cry that turned Thin Lizzy from cult heroes into legends. “Jailbreak” is a break out of the whole rock scene, busting out of the cellblock and spraying riffs across the yard like machine gun fire. The title track hits like a riot cop’s baton to the skull, and then “The Boys Are Back in Town” kicks in. It’s a song so immortal it might actually outlive cockroaches and cockrock combined. Brian Downey drives it with drums that swing harder than a sledgehammer to the gut, while Gorham and Robertson’s guitars intertwine like two switchblades in a knife fight. “Cowboy Song”? That’s Phil writing the soundtrack to every outlaw daydream you’ve ever had, riding into the sunset with a bottle in one hand and your heart in the other. Jailbreak is the album where Thin Lizzy found their voice and carved it into your fucking skull with a chainsaw.

Thin Lizzy weren’t here to make you comfortable. They were here to make you bleed, laugh, cry, and swagger out of the wreckage with a crooked smile. These three albums—Bad Reputation, Black Rose, and Jailbreak are outlaw manifestos, drunken poems, and the soundtrack to the best bar fight you’ll never remember. If you’ve never blasted them at full volume, you haven’t truly lived. So crank the dial, raise a glass to Phil Lynott, and remember: rock and roll should always be this dangerous.