You know he’s been on the phone for an hour. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Joey greets you at the door. Hilly Kristal, owner of CBGB’s, to the Ramones after their first audition.
“Nobody’s gonna like you guys, but I’ll have you back.” You’ve got to be super-human to pay that stuff night after night and not have your senses wiped out by it.” I don’t know if I’d like it night after night, and I’m not sure it isn’t absolutely killing. Norman Mailer: “For me it was like I was an old car and I was being taken out for a ride at 100 miles an hour, and I kind of like it because I was really getting rid of a lot of rust. What did you think of the Ramones’ show the other night? “Can’t you take the pressure?”Īfter 12 years without a hit record, without record company support, without radio or video airplay, and with only their records and live performances, their grinding chainsaw beat, and the kick-ass shows that remind one of an aircraft carrier while a squadron of jet fighters lift off for a bombing run, one blaring rocker after another-the band that reinvented rock ‘n’ roll has withstood the pressure. A journalist along for the mini-tour decided to make a hasty retreat, on foot, back to the Bowery.
#Affair ramones driver#
Monte Melnick, the Ramones’ driver and tour manager, took Dee Dee aside and after listening to him rant and rave for half an hour, calmly talked him into getting back in the van. He jumped out of the van at a stoplight, and, like the grunt on the chopper in Apocalypse Now, screamed, “I’M NOT GOIN’!” Finally, Dee Dee couldn’t take it anymore. The rest of the Ramones ignored the outburst as their girlfriends busied themselves with their nails. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Dee Dee was going hoarse from screaming and the veins on his neck looked like they were about to explode. “JOHN, YOU’D BETTER TAKE BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT MY GIRLFRIEND…,” Dee Dee continued screaming.Īlso Read Hear John Lennon (?!) Sing ‘Yellow Submarine’ From Revolver Reissue Everyone acted as if Dee Dee wasn’t even there. A couple of girlfriends and a journalist filled the extra seats. Way in the back, Marky Ramone slept off a hangover. Up front, Joey Ramone, in the passenger seat, rifled through a box of tapes looking for the right morning music. “John, you better take back what you said about my girlfriend!” Dee Dee Ramone stammered from the back of the van, where he was sitting next to a platinum blond. They hadn’t even driven the several blocks through the Bowery into Chinatown before trouble started. The Ramones were happy to be getting out of town and found refuge in their air-conditioned van as they prepared for a two-and-a-half hour drive to Baltimore. A horribly muggy day that promised to kill off everyone in New York City. It was one of those humid summer days in 1979 when the air on the Bowery was filled with the foul odor of week-old garbage. Hey Ho, Let's Go.This article originally appeared in the August 1986 issue of SPIN. But then the iconoclastic punk rockers were never built for this do you think when Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee and Tommy sat down and started writing "53rd & 3rd" and "Havana Affair" with pop culture and alienation in mind they did it knowing someday they'd be dead? F uck no! If the Ramones deserve any funeral, it's listening to this prime slice of pop music, forgetting about your problems and all that shit that adults have to bother with. At a relatively young age, how can I cope knowing that when I reach the current age of the musicians I hold dear they will all be footnotes of rock? It's still difficult going through the exhilarating and youthful pop of Ramones knowing that the people who made it aren't actually walking and talking like you and me. It was now, it seemed, that the musical heroes had begun to fall. The recent news that Tommy Ramone had passed, the last surviving member of the Ramones, I felt more sobered than ever. If there's one thing I've always dreaded knowing its imminent arrival, it's that one day I will grow up in a world where my musical heroes won't be here, tangible, for the children to see they will simply be relics along with Rimbaud and Fromm, chores for future generations to consume to appease the elders who dictate what we consider as 'art'.
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