Picture it: 1965 Forest Hills, Queens, New York. A young John Cummings formed a garage rock band with Tommy Erdelyi, another guitarist from the neighborhood with an ear for arrangements and catchy hooks. This band would become known as the Tangerine Puppets, truly a name reflective of its time and based on a Donovan song. They hung on for two years, reaching a modicum of local success but with no prospects of advancing in the music business. After the demise of the band, Johnny worked with his father as a plumber among other odd jobs. While delivering dry cleaning, he met Douglas Colvin, a recent emigrant from Germany where his father served in the Army. Colvin and Cummings hit it off near instantaneously, having similar tastes in music (the Stooges, the MC5, the New York Dolls) and outlooks on life (a surprisingly staunch conservative political streak).
The duo felt inspired to form a new band around 1974. They recruited Jeff Hyman, a local who previously sang in a glam rock band called Sniper. His brother Mitchell (later known as Mickey Leigh) had played with Cummings and Erdelyi in a post-Puppets band, so they were well-acquainted. Hyman had just left Sniper (to be replaced by the Bronx’s Alan Turner), and wanted a new group. He also wanted to play drums more often, as he felt more comfortable behind the kit rather than his guitar work. The three of them came together with a vision for their music: bubblegum pop but with the aggression and menace turned all the way up, combining the catchiness of the Beatles with the attitude of Iggy Pop all at the speed of a runaway chainsaw.
The trio recruited Richie Stern to play bass, with Douglas (now usually called Dee Dee) taking guitar and lead vocal duties. Unfortunately, Stern was not as proficient a musician as the rest of the group, so he was quickly asked to leave. This resulted in a shuffle of responsibilities, with Dee Dee covering on bass. Once they began serious rehearsals at Performance Studios (with old friend Tommy acting as their manager), Dee Dee realized he couldn’t play and sing simultaneously. Reluctantly, Jeff (now called Joey) assumed the role of lead singer. Singing and playing drums together is even harder than bass, so the band began looking for a drummer. While holding auditions, Tommy would show potential band members how to play the songs (at ridiculously fast tempos), and it soon became clear that the best option was already in the room. Despite wanting to remain just a manager, Tommy stepped behind the kit.
The newly cemented foursome also decided on a name, taking inspiration from Paul McCartney’s use of a pseudonym while on tour. The four friends became Ramones, changing their last names to match one another. Their visual style deliberately matched as well: long black hair, distressed denim, leather jackets over t-shirts, and basic sneakers. Johnny and Dee Dee had matching shaggy pageboy haircuts covering their eyes and hitting their shoulders.
Their first shows were held in 1974, booking gigs at Joey’s previous venues with Sniper in Max’s Kansas City and CBGB’s. They quickly developed a reputation as a must-see band, particularly with New York’s relative army of music critics. Early articles in Rock Scene and Hit Parader soon led to coverage in bigger journals like the Village Voice. The next year, the band convened at Brooks Arthur’s 914 Studios where Dusty Springfield and a young Bruce Springsteen recorded. With the help of Marty Thau, Tommy took the reigns and produced a passel of songs that the band could shop around to labels. Craig Leon of Sire Records convinced his boss Seymour Stein to sign the Ramones on the strength of that demo; Stein offered to release “You’re Gonna Kill That Girl” as a one-off single, but the band insisted that they wanted to record a full album instead.
It took the band just seven days at Plaza Studios, located on the eighth floor of Radio City Music Hall, to record their debut in January 1976 with Leon behind the board. Their first single “Blitzkrieg Bop” came out in February, with '“Havana Affair” as a b-side. The album (titled simply Ramones) was released in April of that year to rave reviews. Critics had found a “heavy” band that played catchy music, and a pop band with gravitas all in one. It’s arguably the first punk album ever, although it borrows heavily from both power pop and hard rock. Audiences weren’t bowled over at first, with the album only reaching number 111 on the charts.
The band was undeterred, and Sire Records arranged for a grueling tour to support the release. With only the band, Mickey Leigh (who assumed the role of road manager and stage manager), and Danny Fields (former manager of the Stooges and now the band’s manager), the sextet barnstormed throughout the country in the barest of accommodations on the flimsiest of budgets. The relentless touring schedule (including shows on both coasts, Canada, and England) started to pay off in a big way; the burgeoning punk scenes worldwide were given a shot in the arm by the Ramones showing up and wrecking shop.
The Ramones continuously wrote songs, even after recording their debut. When it came time to record the follow-up Leave Home in October 1976, the band had a substantial amount of material from which to choose. They deliberately selected songs that demonstrated growth, whether in complexity or in tempo. So many performances in such a short time meant that the members stayed in studio-ready form. Sire Records hired Tony Bongiovi (yes, Jon’s cousin) to co-produce with Tommy, along with a considerably expanded budget (their debut only cost $6400 to record).
The lyrical content is probably what kept the album from progressing on the charts upon its release in January 1977; it only reached #148, despite a larger promotional budget. Songs about sniffing glue, electroconvulsive therapy, and circus freaks have a limited appeal, especially when it doesn’t sound like anything else on the radio. For those that found it, though, there was nothing like it. Critics continued their love affair with the band, with another sprinkling of five-star reviews and effusive praise.
Once again the Ramones began work on another album, this time in August 1977. The train of working on songs never stopped, with yet another step up in terms of composition. Now, the band varied arrangements and tempos slightly, maturing past their exclusive use of breakneck speed and buzzsaw guitar. Songs like “Teenage Lobotomy” and “We’re a Happy Family” demonstrate a desire to expand their style while staying true to the Ramones ethos.
Rocket to Russia, released in November of 1977, marks a turning point for the band’s sound, as Johnny specifically wanted the Ramones to sound better than the Sex Pistols. The band was perturbed at the more violent and extreme visual aspect of the Pistols, believing that their use of safety pins through cheeks and razor-blade slashes was off-putting to outside observers of the punk movement. Despite the rather lo-fi feel to their music, the Ramones took pride in their musicianship in a way that other punk instrumentalists (like infamously poor bassist Sid Vicious) didn’t. Tony Bongiovi was credited as producer for this album, despite his limited involvement. Engineer Ed Stasium was the primary recordist for the album, with Tommy again serving as producer in all but name.
Tommy, though, was growing increasingly uneasy with the life of a touring musician. Prior to working with the Ramones, he was an engineer at the Record Plant and enjoyed the studio aspect of music more than live performances. Growing tensions with Johnny (who by all accounts was a hard person to get along with) led Tommy to tell Dee Dee and Joey that he had had enough, preferring to stay home and produce while the rest of the band went out on the road. Tommy, in both his role as producer and as manager of the band, selected Marc Bell (formerly of Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Dust, and Wayne County and the Backstreet Boys) as his replacement. Marc quickly adapted his image to match (long black hair, distressed denim, and leather jackets) along with his new name: Marky Ramone.
Marky and the rest of the Ramones went out to support Rocket to Russia, which was seen as a mild disappointment in terms of sales. Critics remained in love with the band, and later fans would regard it as a landmark in their development as artists. Relentless touring created a groundswell of support that led the band to be profitable, at least in terms of merchandise and ticket sales. Album sales would continue to elude the band, though, and Rocket to Russia was doing well to hit number 49 on the Billboard 200.
The train kept rolling for their next album, September 1978’s Road to Ruin. This time, the band expanded their sonic approach even further: some of the songs are longer than three minutes and have *gasp* guitar solos. Johnny farmed out their playing, as he would for the remainder of his career. On this album, Ed Stasium and Tommy Ramone would handle production officially, including over-dubbing solos. Road to Ruin, in retrospect, is a rather naked attempt to garner airplay and album sales by imitating Sixties bubblegum pop in terms of structure. It’s a more diverse album, but neither audiences nor critics were overjoyed. For the first time, critical praise wasn’t universal. Some disliked Marky’s more aggressive drumming, others were displeased with the divergence from the traditional Ramones style.
For their next outing, there were several significant changes spurred by a desire for higher sales. First, Tommy Ramone was no longer involved in production. His replacement behind the board was none other than legendary Sixties producer (and later convicted murderer) Phil Spector. Almost immediately, tensions rose with Spector at the helm. Previous albums were recorded as quickly as possible, with as little money spent on the recording process as necessary. These sessions cost more than every album they had recorded to this point, with a reported outlay of $200,000 from Sire Records. In comparison, their first album cost less than $7,000. The Ramones’ typical process lasted less than a month, whereas they spent over six months working on what would become February 1980’s End of the Century. Dee Dee’s growing dependency on drugs didn’t help matters, as he couldn’t be relied on to play or even show up to sessions. Later, he couldn’t even remember if he played on the album at all.
Conflict arose between Spector and the band in a more abrupt manner. Accounts differ, but all of the Ramones attested that Spector threatened to use firearms to maintain his control of the members. Dee Dee claimed that he had a weapon pointed at him directly, while Johnny and Marky both say that the threat was more implied than literal. Joey was just as dissatisfied with the process, saying later that his lyrics and musical contributions were probably the worst of his career. Marky was the sole member who recalled the sessions without vitriol, saying that Spector’s methods were contrary to the way the others had gotten used to working, but were overall productive. Dee Dee and Johnny, though, hated every minute.
In the end, it sold more than any Ramones album but at too high a cost (both financial and in terms of emotional toll). The members wouldn’t ever be this a cohesive group again after this process, despite another decade and a half of the band performing. The next album Pleasant Dreams in July 1981 was yet another attempt to garner sales, this time with Graham Gouldman of 10cc producing at the suggestion of Sire Records. Sessions were fraught with more tension, both musical and personal. Johnny wanted the band to return to their harder roots, while Joey wished to incorporate more of his love of pop music. The dissension was made worse when Joey’s girlfriend Linda left him during the recording sessions, only to enter into a relationship with Johnny instead. Though Linda and Johnny would marry and remain together for the rest of Johnny’s life, Joey never forgave either. From this point forward, communication between the two was strained at best, only focusing on the music itself, or non-existent altogether. Later, Joey would remark that this was the end of the band, it just took a long time to die out completely.
Pleasant Dreams sold about as many albums as previous recordings, leading to another change in production. Ritchie Cordell and Glen Kolotkin were hired by Sire to produce 1983’s Subterranean Jungle. Johnny took more control of the band’s direction with this album, steering the Ramones back towards a harder sound. He was able to do this in large part due to Dee Dee’s ongoing cocaine addiction, stacked on top of Marky and Joey’s growing dependencies on alcohol. Things became so bad with Marky that he was replaced on at least one song by Billy Rogers of Johnny Thunders’ band. The rest of the band planned to dismiss Marky at the end of recording, going so far as to frame the album cover with Marky off to the side, separated from the rest of the band. Joey was the one to break the news to him, which Marky said he saw coming.
Afterwards, the band hired Richard Reinhardt from New Jersey as their new drummer. At first, Richard went by “Richie Beau”, but by the time they entered the studio to record 1984’s Too Tough to Die, he had fully embraced the “Richie Ramone” moniker. Dissatisfied with previous producers, the Ramones returned to their roots and selected Tommy Ramone as the architect for their next album. Joey took a step back from contributing material (in conjunction with his continued alcoholism), but Dee Dee and Johnny picked up the slack. Joey did bring in Daniel Rey (formerly of Shrapnel) to assist him with some guitar parts, leading to collaborations throughout the rest of the band’s career. Too Tough to Die is a better album than its two predecessors, but it sold worse than any album up to that point. Critics, though, were encouraged at the direction of the future.
1986’s Animal Boy was not what the public wanted, nor were critics bowled over. The core partnership of Joey and Johnny was essentially broken by now, with Dee Dee taking the reins for artistic vision with assistance from Richie. Johnny shot down nearly all of Joey’s ideas for the album, leaving Joey dejected and feeling uninvolved to a degree unseen thus far. Both Dee Dee and Joey encouraged Richie to write his own songs, wanting to increase his participation as a full member (more on that later). Unfortunately, it was 1986, so the direction the band took incorporated extraneous synthesizers in an attempt to sound modern. It didn’t take, and the band sold about the same amount as previous releases. Critics were decidedly mixed, with the electronic instrumentation proving very divisive.
In 1987 the Ramones convened with Daniel Rey to record Halfway to Sanity, arguably their last decent album. Joey and Johnny remained at each others’ throats, with tensions diminishing not one whit. Johnny retained control of recording and in particular the purse strings, preferring to spend as little as possible on studio time in order to maximize profit; his theory (probably correct) was that polishing songs and perfecting them was time wasted, with audiences wanting a rougher and edgier sound in the first place. Dee Dee was essentially absent from recording, with Rey performing all of the bass parts on the album. His drug use (and his dissatisfaction with Johnny’s iron fisted rule) was increasing at rapid rates. The album limped across the finish line, coming out in September of that year.
Prior to its release, the Ramones played a short series of promotional shows. During preparation for the mini-tour, Richie asked Johnny for a cut of merchandise featuring his image. (Both Dee Dee and Joey believed that Richie was in the right on this.) Johnny dismissed him out of hand, and Richie believed he was going to be fired regardless of his next actions. Before the band’s shows in New York in August, Richie held Johnny up for a raise, refusing to play unless he was given $500 a show. Johnny refused and thus Richie was dismissed. Scrambling for a replacement, the Ramones turned to Clem Burke from Blondie as a temporary stopgap. He played just two shows (under the name “Elvis Ramone”) before it became apparent he couldn’t play to the rest of the band’s satisfaction. Fortunately, Marky Ramone had gotten sober in the intervening years, and was interested in returning full-time. He picked right up where he left off, leading Johnny to remark that it was like he had never left.
That wouldn’t be the end of the personnel changes for the Ramones, though. By the time they began recording 1989’s Brain Drain, Dee Dee was no longer able to perform to a professional standard. His drug use had gotten to the point where he was unreliable, and he had grown tired of attempting to mediate between Johnny and Joey in their interminable series of disputes. As the only member who got along with everyone else in the band, his role as the “glue” was taxing in the extreme. He departed at the end of the year, although he would continue to write songs for the band to record.
Dee Dee’s replacement was Christopher Joseph Ward, who would become best known as C.J. Ramone. Freshly out of the Marines (a selling point to the highly regimented Johnny), C.J. was a quick study and a disciplined player in ways that Dee Dee was not. C.J. learned the entire Ramones catalogue in a little over a month, and began playing shows soon after. The band was in a bit of a nebulous state, though, as their contract with Sire Records had run its course. Never selling a fantastic amount of records, Sire believed they had extracted all of the value they could out of the Ramones. Several labels competed for the right to sign them, but ultimately Johnny chose his personal manager’s Radioactive Records for significantly less than Epitaph Records was offering. C.J. called him out for it at the time, and Johnny dismissed his concerns out of hand. Although they didn’t know it at the time, this marked the end of the band as a continuing entity.
1992 saw the release of Mondo Bizarro, produced by old friend Ed Stasium. C.J. stepped into Dee Dee’s role as occasional lead singer, singing on “Strength to Endure” and “Main Man”. Dee Dee was still present, though, writing three tracks in conjunction with Daniel Rey. What should have been a shot in the arm to their fortunes fizzled out, as the songs were largely uninspired and the band’s performances flagged. Their next release, 1993’s Acid Eaters, was comprised entirely of cover songs from the Sixties. C.J. later claimed it was made strictly for the money, and the quality of the songs reflects that lack of effort.
It was apparent to everyone that the band was on its last legs, so the Ramones made it official with their next album, 1995’s ¡Adios Amigos!. Their last studio album would be followed by a nationwide tour, at the end of which they would disband. The braintrust behind the Lollapalooza tour convinced the Ramones to join up for one last ride, leading their final show to be in August 1996. Joey’s health complicated matters; he had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and was unable to physically perform for long stretches in the lead-up to recording. Johnny and Joey were (as always) fractious, and surprisingly Marky and C.J. had their own rivalry. (That was made more complicated by C.J. marrying Marky’s niece Chessa.)
Thus ends the tenure of perhaps the first, and perhaps the greatest punk band of all time. Despite their flaws and their inconsistency (especially in later years), the Ramones are the template for so many punk bands that followed in their footsteps. Their impact cannot be overstated; they influenced every punk band after them, some to the point of pale imitation.
Joey passed away in 2001 from cancer; Dee Dee died the next year from an overdose. Johnny died in 2004 from prostate cancer. The last original member Tommy died in 2014 from bile duct cancer. Joey and Johnny never reconciled, despite ample opportunity before Joey’s passing. Once that relationship soured, the Ramones were an imitation of themselves; even a faded copy of such a powerful source had its charms, though.
Now we move on to my selections for the ten best Ramones songs. Unsurprisingly, it features their early material heavily. These are my choices and my choices alone; I take the blame and deserve the credit. If you think I'm wrong, I invite you to chime in in the comments below or to chastise me on social media. The avenues for dissension with my opinions are vast and varied. Let’s start with number ten…
10. Poison Heart
After Dee Dee left the band for good in 1989, he still wrote songs for the band to use on their later projects. “Poison Heart” is one of those songs, but the way it got to the Ramones is a little hazy. Dee Dee found himself in jail, and needed bail money immediately. The list of people he could turn to had sufficiently dwindled, so he went to some of the people he knew he could touch. In exchange for bailing him out, the band asked for and received the publishing rights to all of the songs he had written after his departure. “Poison Heart” also features an uncredited Daniel Rey on guitar, as the solo was not at all in Johnny’s style.
9. Rockaway Beach
From Rocket to Russia comes the Ramones’ biggest ever single release reaching number sixty-six on the Billboard charts. “Rockaway Beach” was a conscious attempt by Dee Dee to imitate the Beach Boys or Jan and Dean with a “beach” song, but filtered through the Ramones chainsaw. Played at a blistering 185 beats per minute, there are more hooks and catchy moments in this song than perhaps anything else in their catalogue.
8. I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend
This song dates back to the original demos the Ramones made before signing to Sire Records. Tommy wrote the rather atypical song in an attempt to model after doo-wop songs from the late Fifties and early Sixties, and the recording shows it. The album version includes such non-punk flourishes as a twelve-string acoustic guitar, tubular bells, and even a glockenspiel. It’s also the only song on their debut that proceeds at a “normal” pace rather than their normal breakneck speed.
7. Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue
Not all songs have to be complex to be good. Consider this song, also from their debut album. The lyrics are almost painfully straightforward:
Now I wanna sniff some glue
Now I wanna have something to do
All the kids wanna sniff some glue
All the kids want something to do
That’s it. That’s the song, besides counting off the tempo in the bridge. Dee Dee, author of the song, wanted to point out specifically that none of the band actually sniffed glue, or at least not as adults.
6. Bonzo Goes to Bitburg
Sometimes, though, the Ramones stripped away their humor and lightness for more serious topics. First, do yourself a favor and read this brief summary of the Bitburg controversy. Joey and Dee Dee took offense to then-President Reagan’s visit to the Bitburg cemetery, inspiring them to write this scathing song. Initially released only in Europe, it made its way onto the Animal Boy album in 1986. It had already been a minor college radio hit in America though, much to the consternation of Johnny. He, being a right-wing conservative Reagan supporter, disliked Joey’s significantly more liberal outlook on politics and hated the idea of the song. Thus, when it was included on Animal Boy album, it gained a new title: “My Brain Is Hanging Upside-Down (Bonzo Goes to Bitburg)”. (You should probably read this article now, too.)
5. The KKK Took My Baby Away
The popular myth around this song is that it was written by Joey when he lost his girlfriend Linda to Johnny, obliquely referred to as the KKK. However, everyone involved (Joey, Johnny, Linda) and everyone around at the time (like Mickey Leigh) believes it instead was inspired by Joey’s early Seventies stay in a mental institution where he befriended and attempted to romance an African-American woman. Her parents disapproved of the Jewish Joey, so the budding relationship never got off the ground floor. Johnny did frequently taunt Joey about his Jewishness too, for the record, but the song was written before the Ramones even formed.
4. 53rd and 3rd
Dee Dee wrote this song about his own alleged experiences as a hustler on the streets of Manhattan in the early Seventies, claiming that he was incapable of writing songs that weren’t at least somewhat inspired by his own life. Whether Dee Dee actually killed a trick in order to rob him is up for debate, but it was New York in the pre-Giulani era, so anything is possible. The main vocal is Joey as usual, but the bridge is all Dee Dee in his rougher-edged shout.
3. Sheena is a Punk Rocker
This song is everything the classic era of the Ramones loved thrown into a blender. It mixes surf-rock guitar, bubblegum hooks, British Invasion vocals, references to comic books (the titular Sheena is Marvel Comics’ “Sheena, Queen of the Jungle”), and even drops the first mention of “punk rock” as a name for what they were doing. With Rocket to Russia, the band came into their own with more complicated songs, layered arrangements, and a broader array of influences driving their compositions. “Sheena is a Punk Rocker” is pre-eminent among the songs of this era.
2. Blitzkrieg Bop
The one that started it all, the debut single off of the Ramones’ debut album is one of their signature songs. In fact, it inspired the title of this article. Written by Tommy with assistance from Dee Dee, it was a conscious effort to match the catchiness of (of all people) the Bay City Rollers, who at the time were achieving great success with the song “Saturday Night”. Tommy wanted something that audiences could chant, and he came up with “hey ho, let’s go” while walking home from the grocery store. The rest is history.
1. I Wanna Be Sedated
To me, this is the quintessential Ramones song. Written while the band was in London during their worldwide (and seemingly never-ending) tour in 1977 and 1978, Joey was openly disdainful of the rigorous schedule Danny Fields set for them. He ended up watching old western movies in his hotel room (shared with Dee Dee) on Christmas, and he realized how much he disliked the waiting between shows. In many ways, it reminds me of the ethos of Brock Lesnar (trust me, I’m getting somewhere), who said that he would gladly wrestle or fight for free, but that he required his immense salary for the massive inconvenience of traveling and waiting around to perform. Like Tom Petty said, the waiting is the hardest part.
I hope you enjoyed this week’s article. As usual, I take suggestions for future topic. Drop me a line, send me an email, or interrupt the pattern in my breakfast cereals if you’re sufficiently mystically inclined. I don’t make any guarantees for my summer schedule, but I plan to keep writing for as long as you’ll have me. Don’t forget to tell your friends about me, or even your enemies. See you next time!