When X first emerged out of LA, in the early ’80s, they were rightly thought of as one of American punk’s great white hopes. Their association with Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek (he produced and played on their first CD, Los Angeles) seemed to indicate that they were willing to play ball with the old guard — something most punk bands were loath to do. They even covered the Doors tune "Soul Kitchen." It didn’t hurt that guitarist Billy Zoom had once played alongside Gene Vincent, or that the rest of the band had colorful names like Exene Cervenka (vocals), D.J. Bonebrake (drums), and John Doe (bass/vocals).

But timing can be everything, and viewed in retrospect, X were about a decade ahead of their time. So instead of clearing a path for other punks with the four now classic (and reissued by Rhino) Slash/Elektra discs they released between 1980 and 1983, they struggled in vain against a tide of MTV-supported new-wave British synth-pop and, in a move that smacked of desperation, recorded a heavy-metalized version of "Wild Thing" that didn’t help their cause with anyone, least of all their core fan base. Although the band managed to stick around through most of the decade, John and Exene’s marriage dissolved and Billy Zoom quit. By 1991, the year Nirvana brought punk to the mainstream, X had ceased to exist.

Watching a reunited X tear through a set of tunes from those first four albums — Los Angeles, Wild Gift, Under the Big Black Sun, and More Fun in the New World — in front of a capacity crowd at Avalon a week ago Monday, I found it hard not to wonder what might have been if only X were 10 years younger. They were one of the most sophisticated bands to come out of what was then called the "hardcore" underground in the early ’80s. And in the wake of a decade of punk-inspired Top 40 bands (from Offspring and Rancid to Green Day and Blink-182), none of the tunes they played — not even a revved-up protest number like "We’re Desperate," with its "Our whole fucking life is a wreck" refrain — sounded particularly harsh or challenging. Indeed, hearing a slower, poppier number like "White Girl" in the midst of a celebratory set, 22 years after it was first recorded, I felt saddened that X never really had a chance to reach a mainstream audience back when they were at the height of their powers.