IOP Spotlight: The Ramones
By Daniel Alleva
IOP, January 2009
This is it. This is the beginning. Without The Ramones, this website isn’t just a novelty site dedicated to a style of music praised by outcasts. This website flat out doesn’t exist without The Ramones. But quite frankly, the non-existence of this website is miniscule when compared to the endless list of bands that would cease to be, should they all have existed in a world without The Ramones.
The Clash? Without The Ramones, Joe Strummer would have remained a long-haired hippie and not have become a spiky-haired punk in spray-painted garb. Black Flag? Rollins would still be punching a clock in some dead-end job in D.C. if not for The Ramones. Nirvana? Forget about it. When putting the importance of The Ramones in some perspective, one can easily say that punk rock without The Ramones is like Christianity without Jesus. Like the Roman Empire without Caesar. Without any question, The Ramones were Ground Zero, and this tribute is Exercise One. |
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If you walk through the streets of Forest Hills, Queens today, it more than likely looks a little different than when Tommy, Joey, Johnny, and Dee Dee first roamed the turf - and there’s certainly no landmark or memorial on Continental Ave. that reads “This is the Birthplace of Punk Rock” anywhere to be found. But regardless of the fact, it was here – just a subway ride away from CBGB’s – that four guys in jeans and leather jackets gravitated together through their love for bands like The Stooges, and bonded together based solely on the fact that they were, for lack of a better term, socially rejected. The Ramones were aliens before punk’s themes of alienation were even instilled in its followers, and even after the fact, these throes of rejection didn’t exactly morph into what you’d call street cred. The Ramones were never indie-darlings. Kids seeking to look cool never name-dropped The Ramones like they would, say… Sonic Youth, as an example. Which is no slight on Sonic, mind you. Far from it. It’s just that by and large, The Ramones at best were always taken for granted - and at worst, virtually ignored. |
| At least that was the case in the culturally-retarded United States. In Latin America, The Ramones were like the Beatles. But here in the States, it was as if to say that if a Ramone were to die in the woods, would anyone notice? This might seem hard to grasp for anyone who’s Ramones experience is tied directly to the grunge movement of the early nineties; Gen X’ers who have since gone on to see the band not only championed by every band around during that time, but also to see them inducted into the somewhat relevant - no matter how contrived - Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. From this vantage point, it would seem that The Ramones were given their due props. Except if you look a little bit closer, the props were certainly long overdue, and not everyone got to share in the glory. |
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Now clearly, I haven’t put this theory to test, but I feel safe proclaiming the following: everybody knows that “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” is by The Beatles, but not everyone knows “Blitzkrieg Bop” is by The Ramones. Yet, in every sports arena around the country, “Hey ho, let’s go!” gets blasted through the speakers like a rally call from Hell. “Judy Is a Punk” was used to sell Volkswagens in television commercials, yet it’s hard to imagine anyone rolling up to a VW dealer screaming, “Second verse, same as the first!” And it’s not that I’m angry about all of this, I promise. Nor is this a “damn the man, society is bland, blah, blah, blah…” piece. It’s just that I can easily comprehend what The Ramones knew all along, and everyone else at the time failed to see: that their music was the epitome American music in its purest form. |
| You see, in America, we never pay attention to what we have until it’s too late, if even at all. That’s how Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones were able to steal from Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters, only to feed it back to us like it was a brand new science – because America barely gave a shit about the blues, let alone the people who helped cultivate it. The same principle applies here. Given the history of rock and roll, Ramones songs would have fit in perfectly on a Murray the K playlist, and Buddy Holly would have fuckingloved the Ramones. So would have almost this entire country if they were just given the opportunity. All you have to do is put it in the proper context, and it’s plain to see we missed the boat the first time around with The Ramones. In 1976, “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” deserves to rule the airwaves much more than Elton John and Kiki Dee’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” does. Shit, I wasn’t even born then, and even I know this much. But, of course, that’s America for you - standing at the dock while the boat sets to sea. |
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With all this being said, the music of The Ramones defiantly lives on, and against all odds it is passed on from generation to generation - as corny as that may sound. Corny, yes, but undeniably true. The Ramones were always about freedom – the freedom to be weird, the freedom to be a loudmouth, the freedom to dream about the girl you always wanted, and the freedom to sniff glue. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get your 15 minutes of fame – even if you happened to die before you actually got it.
So, that’s it. There’s really not that much else to it. This was the beginning, but it certainly wasn’t the end.
Gabba Gabba Hey. |
VISIT: WWW.OFFICIALRAMONES.COM
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