Sometimes I wish that I could go back and hear the intro to “Maxwell Murder” for the first time. Twenty-five plus years after its release, the song that kicks off Rancid’s …And Out Come the Wolves still has an indelible effect: Ten seconds of ambient city sounds, a far-off church bell, a mournful wind whooshing through an alley—all before bassist Matt Freeman’s four-count riff gives rise to what may be the most vicious song to come out of the mid-’90s. By now, that riff is Pavlovian to me, inducing a reaction as visceral, iconic and meaningful as the opening to Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On,” or George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone.”