James
Baumann:
April, 2005
Everyday (Everyday)
I Read the Book
Too Fast To Think
(Ramones by Nicholas Rombes: Continuum Publishing)
No one ever accused The Ramones or their
music as being brain surgery. That being said, I found it
interesting that of all the titles I've read in Continuum
Publishing's 33 1/3 series, the one covering The Ramones debut
album has taken the most academic approach with its subject.
Nicholas Rombes, who is an associate professor
of English, dissects the disc - as well as the culture in
which it was created - with thesis-like precision (133 footnotes'
worth). The first half of the book is subtitled "Ramones
In Their Time" and focuses not on the record, but instead
on the "birth" of the American punk movement. He
even does the William Safire thing and combs through back
issues of The Village Voice, New York Rocker, and (logically)
Punk magazine (not to mention William Buroughs, The Maltese
Falcon and others) to trace the appearances of the word "punk"
and what it was used to represent.
A good deal of his time is spent discussing
the differences between what punk would come to represent
and how The Ramones actually behaved. He makes an interesting
case about how, if The Ramones were to be truly considered
the first American punk band, many of the punk ideals future
musical acts would cite as dogma wouldn't apply to the founders.
For example, The Ramones never released an "independent"
record, signing with Sire just a bit more than 18 months after
their first live show. Rombes addresses the concept of "selling
out" head on declaring that, "If today we tend to
think in terms of selling out versus not selling out, we need
to be careful not to project these concerns backwards to the
1970s. For there was less worry about 'selling out' to the
mainstream than there was desire to replace mainstream music
with something better, something more alive, something unexpected.
The Ramones, in particular, desired a hit; after all they
believed in and were passionate about their music, and they
wanted to share it with others beyond the cramped space of
CBGB." He explains how the Ramones were aware of using
press and publicity to move the band forward and shape their
image.
Rombes closes this section with a discussion
of, as he puts it, "the fascist iconography in the punk
scene." While one generally thinks of the Ramones as
apolitical - certainly in comparison to bands like The Clash
or others - he says, "If liberal humanist rock critics
and scholars today are wary of dwelling on the conservative,
sometimes reactionary political dimensions of punk
it's
at the risk of minimizing one of the many complexities of
punk." Are the uses of the swastika or references to
the KKK (as they took my baby away) ironic? Is it a call for
not as much rebellion as dissolution? Do they just hate hippies?
Rombes offers that the inability to find a definitive answer
to that question is in itself proof of America's "crisis
of confidence" in the mid-'70s. Beyond that, there isn't
a solid answer and I suspect it's a subject the author wants
to revisit down the road.
In the second half of the book, things pick
up a bit as we get to actually discuss the album and the songs
that caused us to pick up this book in the first place. Again,
though, we learn of contradictions between what was expected
and the reality of the record.
While the Ramones never claimed (or wanted)
to be musical virtuosos, they did put a lot of consideration
into the writing and recording of their songs. Producer Craig
Leon said, "capturing the energy of the live show was
quite important. But if you jump to the conclusion that he
sound of the recording was just the sound of the band live
you would be mistaken even though that was what I was trying
to convey. The album is quite layered and structured and took
full advantage of the studio technology of its time without
being obvious." He goes on to say the band used the same
mic placement techniques that would be used on an orchestra
as well as lots of overdubbing and double-tracked vocals in
an effort to emulate the sound of The Beatles' Hard Day's
Night.
I'm not begrudging Rombes his theories and
analysis. But there are times when he comes dangerously close
to sucking the spirit out right out of the record. He talks
about his passion for the record and even explains how he's
convinced that "Blitzkreig Bop" is the best opening
song to any rock album ever made. But then he expounds upon
that by saying it succeeds because "the songs that follow
live up to the speed, humor, menace, absurdity, and mystery
of that first song, whose opening lines, "Hey ho, let's
go," offer not so much a warning as an invitation to
the listener."
That may be the case, but is he over-thinking
it? Maybe, just maybe, one should consider that if you have
a song that starts off with a cry of "Hey ho, let's go,"
you sorta gotta put that one first. And when the band was
churning out its six-song / 13-minute sets at CBGB they didn't
leave much time to overthink the situation.
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