Bah! I really like their Mayo Thompson years. Maybe that's partly because I'm a Red Krayola-fan post-freakout years (i.e. when they were Mayo's deconstructionist plaything), or maybe because I always suspected David Thomas wasn't just a bit quirky but an outright strange individual. Bailing Man and the Art of Walking can be annoying, sure, but Pere Ubu couldn't very well have ploughed the Avant-Garage furrow forever. I will admit I developed Stockholm Syndrome for arty poncing about long, long ago. I think it must have moved onto the more terminal strains of Gothenburg Syndrome, Malmo Syndrome and Lund Syndrome by now.
The Day the Earth Met the Rocket From the Tombs is my favourite ever Ubu-related release, though, mostly on account of Peter Laughner's searing geet-arr, and the palpable angst of wanting to graduate out of the shitheap that was and probably still is Cleveland. From Lester Bangs' eulogy of Laughner, he smacked more of a fatalistic rock-acolyte than an actual rock musician, but the Tombs' aural testimony, and I guess the comp Take the Guitar Player for a Ride, say otherwise.