The year was 1977. New York City was spiraling through one of its darkest chapters, a financial crisis, the infamous blackout, the terror of the Son of Sam, and crime so rampant that the Guardian Angels patrolled the streets to confront it. Yet amid all this chaos, the Yankees won the World Series for the first time in ages, and the Bronx was literally burning. Out of this tumult, a small group of us discovered something new, raw, and rebellious: punk rock. I was an entrepreneur by day, a working stiff trying to make my way in the world. Most of my friends, however, were living comfortably off their upper-middle-class families. But it didn’t matter where we came from, punk was our outlet for teenage angst. The music was different, loud, angry, and full of energy. Bands like the Sex Pistols...