Why the Ramones Matter
Donna Gaines
Univ. of Texas Press
150 pages
In 1974, four misfits from Queens decided to form a band. Changing their surnames to Ramone, figuring how to write songs and play instruments as they went along, they kicked off a career that lasted for decades and included numerous albums, thousands of live shows, a movie, and solo projects. Playing short, fast, loud, repetitive songs about topics such as mental illness and male prostitution, the Ramones set out to “rescue” rock ‘n roll from a morass of conventionality and tedious guitar solos. Music, and popular culture, would never be the same.
Casey Kittrell, editor of the Music Matters series, of which this is the second volume, promises “something unexpected about each book, whether it’s an author’s personal connection to her subject, an unconventional appreciation of the artist, or new research on people we thought we know.” Gaines delivers on several fronts. Part sociological exploration, part fangirl gush, Gaines’ book offers a multifaceted exploration of the band and their effect. Gaines was a friend of Joey’s who conducted interviews, not only with the band members, but with fans around the world as well. Their varying ages attest to the continuing power of the Ramones to reach masses, regardless of generation or place of residence (Full disclosure – I was interviewed for this project, my story cut due to length constraints).
As the stories attest, the Ramones were many things to many people. Some were able to see them live since the beginning; others discovered them through bootleg tapes or music magazines. Certain fans had a Beatles-like relationship to the band, debating and crushing on favorite Ramones. For others, it was the music that mattered.
The Ramones made sure this music was accessible to as many kids as possible, purposely playing out-of-the-way small towns that most rock stars ignored. Despite being from New York, they thought of themselves as “suburban kids” and felt kinship with outsiders and misfits. For these kids, the Ramones were saviors.
Gaines uses religious language throughout the book, expounding on the Ramones’ “mission,” comparing their songs to psalms and “sacred mantras.” “Among Ramones fans,” Gaines writes, “it was Joey who would become our bodhisattva, an ascended master who returns to earth in human form to teach others.” She calls the Ramones’ first UK tour “the moment the Pistols, the Damned, and the Clash got religion” and informs us there are votive candles with band members’ pictures on them (Who knew?) and that some fans base their actions on What Would Joey Do?
Some of the history, particularly the importance of that tour in inspiring British punk, is well-known, as is their influence on more recent American bands such as Nirvana and Green Day. Gaines recounts this history in detail, making a strong case that “…nobody played a greater part in proclaiming, defining, or pushing punk forward [than the Ramones].” Gaines notes that the Ramones differed from most punk bands by their lack of political content (“Bonzo Goes to Bitburg” being the one exception), possibly because the band members held such different views. Their “politics” was the theory of inclusion, individuality, and a deep love for America and rock ‘n roll. Throughout their career, the Ramones also maintained a commitment to treating fans with gratitude and respect, a rarity among musicians and in sharp contrast to the horrid ways they treated each other.
Gaines puts forth the idea, shared by other social historians, that punk itself is a direct result of WWII, an attempt by postwar kids to understand and assimilate their parents’ obsession with this world-changing event and to come to terms with the effects of “cultural trauma.”
Joey, Dee Dee, and Marky’s fathers were WWII vets. Tommy’s Hungarian Jewish parents were hidden by neighbors during the War. Dee Dee grew up in Berlin, hearing his mother’s horror stories from that time. Despite (or perhaps because of) his hatred of Nazis, Dee Dee had an obsession with Nazi memorabilia, a passion shared by Johnny, who displayed an autographed picture of Hitler in his home.
WWII imagery occurs frequently in their songs. Gaines tells how the persona song, Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World, was originally written as a straightforward Nazi brag. Jewish record executives, aghast, insisted they change it, so Tommy transformed the song from glorification to parody. Whatever their original intention (which is unclear, considering that half the band was Jewish, though Tommy originally hid this from the others) the released version offers a then-novel concept – that Nazis can be made fun of, sharp contrast to the attitude of traumatized reverence common to families of the time.
The meaning and value of any artist depends on the time of evaluation. I began Gaines’ book just after watching Susan Collin’ condescending forty-minute speech (compete with Dolores Umbridgelike smile) and continued reading during the days of Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation and swearing in. So it was extra disturbing for me to read that both Johnny and Dee Dee physically abused their partners, information that Gaines delivers but doesn’t explore.
The difficulty of assessing flawed artists or works containing prejudice or misogyny is not new. From classics littered with the N-word and anti-Semitic caricatures to literature written by avowed fascists and Jim Crow apologists, we as audience must grapple with how (if at all) this affects our relationship to their work. Recently the metoo movement has exposed former literary darlings Sherman Alexie and Junot Diaz, and more will probably follow. Does this information change the value or meaning of their work?
The question is different for art created in, and reflecting, a certain time period (though the period of violence against women seems to be always), as well as if the art itself espouses bigotry or abuse; or if a vile person (or in the Ramones’ case, a traumatized or mentally ill person who’s done vile things) makes art that seems to be free of such ideology. As a teen I appreciated The Ramones’ lyrics for avoiding the misogyny rampant in other punk bands (Johnny Thunders and the Sex Pistols being two of the more egregious), sparing me the confusion of music that entered my heart and expanded my sense of power and possibility, even as it celebrated female degradation and abuse. At fifteen, I couldn’t articulate or even fully understand this dilemma.
Though Gaines presents the domestic violence and then moves on, she returns to this topic near the end of the book, noting that many rock stars are “assholes” to their partners. “Asshole,” however, is a vague word that could imply selfishness or infidelity. Beating someone “mercilessly” or repeatedly slamming them into walls is a different story. Even if this doesn’t change someone’s love for the band, and though it seems that both Dee Dee and Johnny treated their later spouses much better, it’s vital in the era of Trump to call things exactly what they are.
One reason this information was new to me is that, as Gaines points out, little was known about the individual Ramones until after their deaths. While part of this is due to a pre-internet and cameral-phone world, it is testament to their commitment to their goal (and apparently the work of Johnny), that the band presented as one entity, The Ramones, united in the mission of bringing their music to outsider or forgotten kids. Conflicts (even deep hatreds), different political views, and personal needs were all secondary to this aim. Through the years, despite changes in band membership, this intention remained true.
In some ways, this regimentation seems contrary to the free, spontaneous spirit of punk. Like a franchise, the Ramones strove to offer exactly the same experience, no matter where or when they played. Even the Ramones’ “uniform” jeans, t-shirt, motorcycle jacket — remained the same over time, clothes chosen not only for affordability, but out of sensitivity to average kids who wouldn’t look good in the then-fashionable glitter style.
While Gaines displays the most warmth for Joey and Dee Dee, she gives each Ramone his due, showing how the perspective and contribution of each member created the perfect punk storm of the band. While some critics dismissed their later work as worn out and growthless, Gaines finds something to admire in each stage of their career.
Who is the intended audience for Gaines’ book? As she notes, those of us who lived it find the question of why the Ramones matter absurd. Still, it’s fun reading, like sharing stories of a loved one with other people, some of whom knew them in a different context. Ideally it will reach people like my physical therapist, who, noticing my shirt said, “The Ramones, huh? People say they’re important, but I never got it.” While no words can make anyone “get it,” hopefully readers will be led to explore the music, the true convincer of what the Ramones gave us and why they matter.