Perhaps the most theatrical of No Wave performers, James Siegfried drew on a background in free jazz improvisation and a keen interest in the sounds of Motown to create his alter ego James Chance; with his backing band the Contortions (and later, the Blacks), he created music as kinetic, danceable, and wildly charismatic as James Brown’s “I Got You (I Feel Good).” The shock of the new came from Chance’s melding of Motown’s flair and showmanship with the jarringly nihilistic ideological pose that informed his every unhinged howl.

DNA’s music was stunning in a way that Duchamp’s “R Mutt” must have been to everyone at the Armory Show. On songs like “Blonde Redhead” and “Detached,” Arto Lindsay spoke in tongues, his throaty shriek matched by his inventive guitar, which threw off shards and sparks. Somehow the chaos was brought to order, anchored by Robin Crutchfield’s keyboards or Tim Wright’s bass.

Compare either volume of Soul Jazz’s lovingly researched New York Noise compilations with No New York and you can see the tonal breadth of this music — from the aggressive minimalism of Mars, to the startling, oddly delicate rawness of Ut and early Sonic Youth, through to the extroverted, kitschy humor of all-girl percussion band Pulsallama (once described as “12 girls fighting over a cowbell”). In their hands, even dance music became confrontational, playing out like a philosophical inversion of disco’s beatific, up-with-people optimism. If disco seduced you into giving yourself up to the beat like a sacrificial lamb, No Wave’s coruscating, electric pulse fought you every step of the way. And yet there was something irresistible about it too. It could be forbidding, yes, but just as often it was raucous fun.

No Wave’s stealthy sphere of influence can be partially attributed to Ed Bahlman’s prescient 99 Records. 99 was home to groups as varied as Singers & Players, Glenn Branca, Vivien Goldman, and Y Pants. But its enduring reputation was cemented by two bands: ESG (short for Emerald Sapphire Gold), and Liquid Liquid. ESG, a trio of sisters from Harlem, brought infectious energy to their innovative, charmingly shambolic mixture of percussive funk, hip-hop, and anthemic songwriting. Their signature song, “Moody,” produced by Factory’s resident eccentric genius Martin Hannett, went on to become one of the most sampled songs of all time. Liquid Liquid’s “Cavern” crossed-over to hip-hop via the outright copyright infringement of Grandmaster Flash and Melle Mel’s "White Lines." Although the ensuing lawsuit broke up the band and bankrupted 99, it brought the East Village sound to a new audience. The impression these records made on the burgeoning house and hip-hop communities cannot be underestimated. Both bands can be heard on the New York Noise compilations; between Volumes One and Two you can sample just about every 99 group and then some.

Perhaps the material seems so fresh today because of the way the familiar — disco, dub, hip-hop, jazz improv, percussive funk — was harnessed in new ways, cut-up, and subverted. The East Village environment — a melting pot of artists, writers, filmmakers, and musicians — encouraged not just mutual curiosity about different dance music genres, but a real cross-pollination, resulting in music that pushed boundaries, both of rock and of modern composition.

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Although these bands drew heavily on the avant-garde, musique concrète, and performance art traditions in their music-making, they were often deployed with surprising accessibility and an ear toward danceability. After all, No Wave was, at heart, the soundtrack to a non-stop party. A weird, arty party, sure, but one that’s happily still going on.