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Ramones get their due on tribute album
By RICHARD CROMELIN
Los Angeles Times
Hollywood - The newest recording by U2 begins with the Edge's mean, throaty guitar riff and the band's signature low-end throb.
Then comes the vocal, Bono laying into the instrumental groove with the urgent croon that has carried messages of universal hope and human sorrow.
"Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat," he sings with breathy intensity. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah."
Now, there are those who will think that the exalted Irish band's doing a Ramones song is a bit like Heifetz at a hoedown.
But here it is on the new album "We're a Happy Family," joining an all-star team of artists ranging from Metallica to Pete Yorn, the Pretenders to Eddie Vedder, KISS to Tom Waits - all wallowing in the primordial mud of the Ramones' music.
"It is funny when I hear certain people doing the songs," says guitarist Johnny Ramone, the only member of the quartet who remained from beginning to end and is here to tell about it (singer Joey Ramone died of cancer in 2001).
"Hearing the Chili Peppers sing 'Havana Affair' so seriously," he continues, "I remember sitting there and writing the lyrics, and we were just laughing after writing this stuff, and Anthony's singing it so seriously, it's hysterical.
"Some songs I didn't even think that much of, then all of a sudden I hear the Pretenders doing 'Something to Believe In,' and I go, 'Wow, this is good.' To me it was basically a throwaway."
Before the gabba gabba heydays
There was a time when the Ramones themselves were considered a throwaway, even while they were liberating rock 'n' roll from the death grip of disco and corporate rock in the 1970s. They were a disposable joke at best - or, worse, an affront to music and society. Seymour Stein, the head of Sire Records, says he got death threats for signing them to his label.
Later, when their imitators and descendants were topping the charts and shaping the rock landscape, the Ramones were taken for granted. People even thought that it was the Sex Pistols or the Clash who started punk rock.
When Johnny hung up his guitar in 1996 after the Ramones' farewell tour, he figured the band would soon be forgotten. But something funny happened as he settled into quiet retirement in Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley.
"Six years later the Ramones are bigger than ever, have more friends and better friends, and everyone's nice to me wherever I go," says the guitarist, who was born John Cummings 51 years ago. "It's weird, it's nice. Better late than never."
The re-evaluation culminated with induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last year. Even with that, it seemed that there were still pockets of resistance where the Ramones weren't getting their due.
Here today, here tomorrow
"We're a Happy Family" didn't necessarily start out as an effort to validate their artistry, but it figures to cement the resurgence.
"I think just now culture is beginning to get it and understand the Ramones," says Metallica's guitarist, Kirk Hammett, whose band contributes a stomping "53rd and 3rd" to the album. "For some reason they're more relevant now musically and culturally than they were then.
"They were so ahead of their time. But the presentation wouldn't have suggested that these guys were pioneers, because they had a cartoonish, comic-book image. So a lot of people wouldn't really go deeper."
The performances on "We're a Happy Family" (the title is a Ramones song that isn't on the album, and a phrase that definitely did not apply to the contentious foursome) range from fairly straight homage by such punk-aligned acts as the Offspring ("I Wanna Be Sedated"), Green Day ("Outsider") and Rancid ("Sheena Is a Punk Rocker") to some radical reinventions. Tom Waits crashes the party like a fearsome blues shaman, bellowing the saga of "Return of Jackie & Judy."
"Just boom boom, just did it fast, tried to make it sound a little dirty, put a T. Rex spin on it," says Waits, who was steered to the song by his friend Jim Jarmusch, the film director.
"They always sounded loud, fast and out of control and all that," he adds of the Ramones. "They were bite-size songs, and it almost seemed like they were already there before they're there. Something very simple and reliable about that."
Proving dorks can rock
For a punk-rooted band such as the Offspring, the Ramones provided an indispensable template.
"We used to mess around before we could get shows," recalls singer Dexter Holland, who formed the Orange County, Calif., band with bassist Greg Kriesel in 1984. "We used to just set up in Greg's living room on Saturday nights and played to ourselves, basically. . . . It was a blast."
It's arguable who the first punk rock band was, but there's no question that the Ramones were the first one that mattered, coming out of Forest Hills, N.Y., with their leather jackets and ripped jeans and songs about dysfunctional families, violent Vietnam veterans and sniffing glue, all compressed into impossibly short, intense bursts of energy.
After sparking the revolution with shows at the seedy Bowery bar CBGB, the four Ramones - Johnny, Joey, bassist Dee Dee (a drug-overdose casualty last year) and drummer Tommy (currently producing records and playing with an alternative bluegrass band, Uncle Monk) - signed with Sire and released their first album in 1976. Rock was forever changed, from fashion to foundations.
"They showed that anyone, and I mean anyone, can join a rock 'n' roll band," says Metallica's Hammett, who cites Johnny's "down-picking" technique as a key element in Metallica's music. "It doesn't really matter what you look like, it's all about what you sound like and what your attitude is.
"It enabled the funniest-, dorkiest-looking guy to put on a leather jacket and feel cool. And that was me. That was such a powerful thing because it gave me confidence."
A version of this story appeared in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on Feb. 18, 2003.
Ramones get their due on tribute album
By RICHARD CROMELIN
Los Angeles Times
Hollywood - The newest recording by U2 begins with the Edge's mean, throaty guitar riff and the band's signature low-end throb.
Then comes the vocal, Bono laying into the instrumental groove with the urgent croon that has carried messages of universal hope and human sorrow.
"Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat," he sings with breathy intensity. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah."
Now, there are those who will think that the exalted Irish band's doing a Ramones song is a bit like Heifetz at a hoedown.
But here it is on the new album "We're a Happy Family," joining an all-star team of artists ranging from Metallica to Pete Yorn, the Pretenders to Eddie Vedder, KISS to Tom Waits - all wallowing in the primordial mud of the Ramones' music.
"It is funny when I hear certain people doing the songs," says guitarist Johnny Ramone, the only member of the quartet who remained from beginning to end and is here to tell about it (singer Joey Ramone died of cancer in 2001).
"Hearing the Chili Peppers sing 'Havana Affair' so seriously," he continues, "I remember sitting there and writing the lyrics, and we were just laughing after writing this stuff, and Anthony's singing it so seriously, it's hysterical.
"Some songs I didn't even think that much of, then all of a sudden I hear the Pretenders doing 'Something to Believe In,' and I go, 'Wow, this is good.' To me it was basically a throwaway."
Before the gabba gabba heydays
There was a time when the Ramones themselves were considered a throwaway, even while they were liberating rock 'n' roll from the death grip of disco and corporate rock in the 1970s. They were a disposable joke at best - or, worse, an affront to music and society. Seymour Stein, the head of Sire Records, says he got death threats for signing them to his label.
Later, when their imitators and descendants were topping the charts and shaping the rock landscape, the Ramones were taken for granted. People even thought that it was the Sex Pistols or the Clash who started punk rock.
When Johnny hung up his guitar in 1996 after the Ramones' farewell tour, he figured the band would soon be forgotten. But something funny happened as he settled into quiet retirement in Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley.
"Six years later the Ramones are bigger than ever, have more friends and better friends, and everyone's nice to me wherever I go," says the guitarist, who was born John Cummings 51 years ago. "It's weird, it's nice. Better late than never."
The re-evaluation culminated with induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last year. Even with that, it seemed that there were still pockets of resistance where the Ramones weren't getting their due.
Here today, here tomorrow
"We're a Happy Family" didn't necessarily start out as an effort to validate their artistry, but it figures to cement the resurgence.
"I think just now culture is beginning to get it and understand the Ramones," says Metallica's guitarist, Kirk Hammett, whose band contributes a stomping "53rd and 3rd" to the album. "For some reason they're more relevant now musically and culturally than they were then.
"They were so ahead of their time. But the presentation wouldn't have suggested that these guys were pioneers, because they had a cartoonish, comic-book image. So a lot of people wouldn't really go deeper."
The performances on "We're a Happy Family" (the title is a Ramones song that isn't on the album, and a phrase that definitely did not apply to the contentious foursome) range from fairly straight homage by such punk-aligned acts as the Offspring ("I Wanna Be Sedated"), Green Day ("Outsider") and Rancid ("Sheena Is a Punk Rocker") to some radical reinventions. Tom Waits crashes the party like a fearsome blues shaman, bellowing the saga of "Return of Jackie & Judy."
"Just boom boom, just did it fast, tried to make it sound a little dirty, put a T. Rex spin on it," says Waits, who was steered to the song by his friend Jim Jarmusch, the film director.
"They always sounded loud, fast and out of control and all that," he adds of the Ramones. "They were bite-size songs, and it almost seemed like they were already there before they're there. Something very simple and reliable about that."
Proving dorks can rock
For a punk-rooted band such as the Offspring, the Ramones provided an indispensable template.
"We used to mess around before we could get shows," recalls singer Dexter Holland, who formed the Orange County, Calif., band with bassist Greg Kriesel in 1984. "We used to just set up in Greg's living room on Saturday nights and played to ourselves, basically. . . . It was a blast."
It's arguable who the first punk rock band was, but there's no question that the Ramones were the first one that mattered, coming out of Forest Hills, N.Y., with their leather jackets and ripped jeans and songs about dysfunctional families, violent Vietnam veterans and sniffing glue, all compressed into impossibly short, intense bursts of energy.
After sparking the revolution with shows at the seedy Bowery bar CBGB, the four Ramones - Johnny, Joey, bassist Dee Dee (a drug-overdose casualty last year) and drummer Tommy (currently producing records and playing with an alternative bluegrass band, Uncle Monk) - signed with Sire and released their first album in 1976. Rock was forever changed, from fashion to foundations.
"They showed that anyone, and I mean anyone, can join a rock 'n' roll band," says Metallica's Hammett, who cites Johnny's "down-picking" technique as a key element in Metallica's music. "It doesn't really matter what you look like, it's all about what you sound like and what your attitude is.
"It enabled the funniest-, dorkiest-looking guy to put on a leather jacket and feel cool. And that was me. That was such a powerful thing because it gave me confidence."
A version of this story appeared in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on Feb. 18, 2003.
