ONETWOTHREEFOUR!

They've been called a lot of things. The Fast Four. The Godfathers of Punk. The Cacophonous Commandos. Those Most Unpretentious Pinheads. Those High-speed Hooligans. The Forest Hills Foursome. The Unluckiest Band to Ever Be Inducted Into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Okay, so maybe I made most of those up. Of course, I'm talking about the...

The iconic Ramones seal designed by Arturo Vega

I freakin' love the Ramones. They aren’t my favorite band, but they’re almost my favorite band. They’re right there. On the cusp. At the edge of the brink, teetering. They’re as close to being my favorite band as a band can be without actually being my favorite band. I’ve spent more time thinking about them and critiquing and ranking their albums and songs and album covers and live shows than any other band. You might ask, then, how are they not my favorite band? I don’t know. They just aren’t. Don’t worry about it.

I sort of missed the boat on the Ramones. I was born in late 1987, so by the time I was old enough to figure out that they existed, they had been broken up for about 6 or 7 years, and Joey Ramone had sadly passed away already. Maybe Dee Dee, too. I’m not sure of the timeline. When I first heard them, I was just a bit unimpressed, honestly. You see, the first Ramones record I heard was their–let’s say, “controversial”–1980 album, End of the Century. 

I thought these guys were supposed to wear leather jackets?

I came about the album kind of by accident. Back in the day, when people mainly consumed their music in CD form, there were these companies that would send you a thing in the mail that said “Hey! Join our club! If you give us a penny, we’ll send you a bunch of CDs that you can pick out from this list! And then you can pay us a lot more for the CDs we’ll send you after that.” The trick was, though, that I simply never paid them. They sent lots of letters asking for money. I sent those letters to the garbage can. Don’t judge me too harshly; lots of people did it. And as we all know, if everyone’s doing it, it’s totally fine! So yeah. One of the albums I picked out was End of the Century, simply because I had heard of a band called Ramones, and I had no way of knowing they were going to dominate my music listening life. These things should come with warning labels.

I had heard punk rock before, so this record wasn’t a total revelation to me. I enjoyed many of the songs, but I wasn’t a big fan of the way this record sounded. What’s with those horns all over the first track? Why does everything either sound like it was recorded in an echo chamber or under a wet blanket? This is the band that everyone has been telling me kickstarted punk rock? I mean, this is good, but it’s not revolutionary, and it’s kind of all over the place. Weird. Then, sometime later, my friend LaVal bought a Ramones compilation titled Hey! Ho! Lets Go: The Anthology. My life was never the same. 

Oh, there they are!

Two discs. Fifty-eight songs spanning the Ramones’ career. Now THIS was more like it! These guys are singing about sniffing glue, going to the beach, wanting shock treatment, wanting to live, not wanting to live, wanting to be your boyfriend, and not wanting to grow up! And the guitar is ripping and buzzsawing and being the best kind of obnoxious. I was newly converted to Ramones fanaticism. 

The best part of the Ramones, to me, has always been their embrace of minimalism. The pure Ramones sound is composed of four, and only four, elements. We'll let Dee Dee Ramone count them off.

Johnny’s rhythm guitar blasting down-strummed major barre chords through those Marshall amps, sounding more like raw sonic anger than mere music. 

Dee Dee’s–or later, CJ’s–bass barreling along with the guitar, filling in the low end.

Tommy’s or Marky’s or Richie’s or Marky’s (again) drums providing that trademark Ramones drum beat: rapid, constant 8th notes on the hi-hat or ride cymbal, kick on 1 and 3, snare on 2 and 4, and barely any drum fills. 

And, of course, the voice of the Ramones, Joey, with his sometimes faux-British accent, sometimes authentic New York accent, always inviting us along for the ride on some zany adventure to the psych ward or the local Pet Sematary.  

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To add anything else to this formula is to dilute the raw power and tarnish the authenticity of these most awesome tunes. Who needs tons of overdubs and solos? Not these guys! Played at the proper volume–that is, loud–these songs punch you right in the ear holes and leave you wanting more more more. These guys are masters of doing a lot with a little. Sure, Johnny's only playing barre chords on his guitar 99% of the time, but the riffs, Duke! The riffs! You see, the Ramones didn't know how to be a "real band." They didn't know how to be "real musicians." So they made it up. The result was weird, bouncy, glue-sniffy, slightly unhinged, bizarro riffs. Did I mention that Johnny really only played major chords? Even if they were "supposed" to be minor? This shit is good. And even in one of the ultra rare instances when Johnny plays something approximating a lead part, like in Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue, it gets q u i r k y.

And let's not forget to talk about Joey. Joey's vocal delivery, sitting on top of the demented assault of the guitar, bass, and drums behind him, is magical. Joey's trademark singing style is absolutely essential to the Ramones sound. He can croon with the best of them. He can snarl. He can hiccup and descend into madness like on their excellent cover of Surfin' Bird. He can be sweet and sentimental. Joey can do it all. I mean, this guy can rhyme "massacre" with "me."

The other best part of the Ramones (the Ramones are so good that they have two best parts) is their lyrical and songwriting genius. “Wait a minute,” you might be thinking to yourself, “these guys wrote about sniffing glue and eating chicken vindaloo. These are not smart lyrics.” To that I say congratulations: you’re a statistic. It’s a well-known scientific fact that 47% of people are big time dumbasses. Sorry to break it to you. Look, sometimes you just really don’t wanna go down to the basement, and when that’s the case, you write I Don’t Wanna Go Down to the Basement:

Hey, daddy-o

I don't want to go down to the basement

There's somethin' down there

I don't want to go

Hey, Romeo

There's somethin' down there

I don't want to go down to the basement

And then you sing that one verse three times, cuz that’s just how much you don’t wanna go down to the basement. What else do you need? A bridge? A chorus? Psshhh. Get outta here with that. It’s a waste of time when you’re just trying to say you don’t wanna go down to the basement. These guys did that in 1974. It seems kind of obvious now, but that’s because every punk band heard the Ramones do it, and then copied it for 45 years. Great ideas get stolen.

The back cover of the Hey! Ho! Let's Go: The Anthology

I borrowed LaVal’s copy of Hey! Ho! Let’s Go: The Anthology, and I listened to it non-stop. I learned about half of the songs on guitar. At first, I preferred the first disc with its emphasis on their early work (1974-1979). Then I got into the second disc, as it featured many of the best songs from their middle (1980 - 1989) and late (1990 - 1996) periods. Then I came to my senses and realized all eras of the Ramones are pretty damn cool, even if they did have some trouble with producers in the 1980s. More on that at a later time, though…

The compilation came with a really cool booklet that told all about the history and workings of the band. This was my first glimpse into what is maybe the most fascinating part of the Ramones. These guys were legit weirdos. It wasn't an act when they sang about being institutionalized, turning tricks on the corner of 53rd & 3rd, or sniffing glue. Ok, maybe it was a little bit of an act. But that's the best part about the Ramones. (Yeah, so they actually have three best parts.) They're a cartoon. A caricature. The real deal, but dialed up to 11 on stage and on record. How much was an act, and how much was the truth? Well, that's for you to discern, and that's the fun part. And, boy, were they dysfunctional. For most of the band's existence, I would learn, Joey and Johnny absolutely did not get along. They wouldn't even talk to each other. They would often communicate through a third party, while sitting four feet away from each other in the same van. They existed like this for most of their 22 year career. And they were the only two guys who were in the band from beginning to end. We're a Happy Family, indeed.

                                    The booklet that came in The Anthology.

Having tried my hardest to wear out the 2 CDs in LaVal's copy of the comp, I started hunting down all of the Ramones albums I could find. I got a bunch of them from a great little place called Rock N Records. Damn, I miss that place. I basically built my entire early punk CD collection from there. Descendents, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Minor Threat, The Clash….anyway, that place ruled. I can still smell the incense and see the black light posters. And that section in the back for "Adults Only." Where was I? Oh yeah, the Ramones. I picked up all their studio albums on CD. Then I got the 3 official live albums that came out when they were still doing their thing. And that's when I realized that Ramones comp should have been twice as long, because those two CDs simply did not have enough room for all these great tunes. The Ramones wrote a LOT of damn good songs. The first four albums alone are front-to-back full of all time classics. And while I can't remember the last time I put on one of those Dead Kennedys records, as cool as they are, the Ramones have never left frequent rotation for me. Even a couple decades later. 

There’s just something about the Ramones. Even today, I’m still looking for a way to put it into words. They’re weird. Real weird. They’re exciting. A bit dangerous. (Did Dee Dee really kill that guy in 53rd & 3rd with his razorblade? I mean, probably not. But still…) A bit mythical. They’re a black and white, stark, punk rock monolith made up of 4 (actually 7, but maybe kinda sorta 8) goofy, colorful characters. There are a million stories about them and the truth is murky at best with a lot of them. And they wrote some amazing music!

My first guitar. The one I learned all those Ramones songs on. Note the Ramones Rock N Roll High School sticker!

As I continue this series, I’m going to be writing about every Ramones record, one at a time. I’ll be doing a detailed, track by track review of every song. All the way through to the end. A lot of people have said a lot of things about the Ramones. There probably isn’t a lot of new stuff for me to say about them. Except of course, for what they mean to me. So if you’re an obsessive Ramones freak like me, or somebody with a bit of morbid curiosity, maybe you’ll consider coming along for the ride. Next time: their debut 1976 record, Ramones!