CREEM ONLINE: Ramones — End Of The Century

Well the end of the century has come and gone, and the Ramones have certainly come a long way, baby!

Forget their induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, their music has now achieved such common currency that AT&T is even using it to sell cell phones in their TV ads. What makes it so ironic that the music industry would now be paying homage to these punk rock pioneers and that well-respected corporate entities would even be jumping on their bandwagon to help move their merchandise is the fact that, as this new documentary on the band points out, the Ramones spent the latter part of the last century playing the role of the outsiders with their noses pressed up against the glass, fruitlessly hoping to be let in the club and given some kind of validation. Having given up long ago on the lofty notion of achieving any kind of mainstream acceptance, it's more than just a little ironic that here they are, after the end of the century (and years after the band's demise), seemingly more widely accepted—and even respected—than ever before. Maybe God is a Ramones fan after all!

But End Of The Century, a full-length documentary about America's favorite dysfunctional rock ’n’ roll family this side of the Osbournes, serves to remind us that punk rock wasn't always quite so socially acceptable. This yet-to-be-released, two-hour film that's currently making the festival circuit isn't exactly a rah-rah celebration of the inspired blitzkrieg bop that the Ramones first unleashed upon an unsuspecting world over a quarter of a century ago. Rather than simply hoisting the Ramones banner and asking a cretin nation to salute, the film instead chooses to cast its focus on the complicated internal dynamics of the band and the struggles that go along with trying to reach for the brass ring while still holding on to some sense of integrity. As you might guess, it ain't always easy!

The film chronicles the band from its earliest beginnings in the Forest Hills section of Queens in the ’70s to its last show at the Hollywood Palladium in 1995, as well as touching on the deaths of both Joey and Dee Dee in recent years. A great deal of time is spent on the early days—usually the most interesting period for any band—when everything was new and no one quite knew what to make of the sonic assault that this leather-clad gang of characters was cranking out. Classic early footage of the boys arguing onstage about what song to play next is priceless. ("Fuck you! I don’t wanna play that song!") Fortunately, the film primarily focuses on the band members themselves and their inner circle rather than straying too far afield with various hangers-on and fringe players as these films often tend to do.

The stars are clearly Dee Dee, the irrepressible little kid who chafes at every rule but whose sincerity and enthusiasm make him hard to resist; Johnny, the punk rock drill sergeant who makes sure the trains keep running on time; Joey, the freaky, geeky frontman whose strange demeanor masks the soul of a lonely romantic; and the parade of drummers… Tommy, Marky, Richie (who, in his current guise, seems to exhibit all the style of an office supply salesman), and even Elvis

Cave Stomp: In a reversal of evolution, Stooge brothers Asheton and the MC5’s "Sonic" pass the punk rock torch on to the even more troglodyte Ramones—who never seemed to be bright enough not to burn themselves with it.

Ramone (briefly portrayed by Blondie drummer Clem Burke in a two-week trial run).

Other longtime Ramones confidantes who contribute their observations include "art director" Arturo Vega and road manager Monte Melnick, whose exasperated descriptions of Joey's obsessive/compulsive behavior reveal a lot about how having to deal with a band’s (or a bandmate’s) peculiar idiosyncrasies over the years can drive one over the edge more quickly than a spouse with a voice like Roseanne! Ramones manager Danny Fields does an uncanny—and quite unintentional—impression of mythical Rutles manager Leggy Mountbatten when he breathlessly describes what first impressed him about the young toughs he would soon find himself managing: "They just looked so great!"

Clash master Joe Strummer and Sex Pistol Glen Matlock both turn up to offer a few choice memories of the Ramones' arrival on the English scene and the impact they had on the hungry hordes of spotty young English lads eager to emulate the Ramones' do-it-yourself style. Fields recounts how the Clash's Paul Simonon once confided to Johnny that his band was so lacking in any kind of musical proficiency that they were afraid to play. Johnny's reply? "Well wait till you hear us!"

It was a little disappointing that no one decided to share the story of the Ramones pissing in the Sex Pistols' beer during their 1977 London encounter (maybe they still don't know why the lager seemed to have a distinctly American flavor that night!). Somehow, you can't help but think the Ramones felt it served them right for copping the credit for creating what they themselves had already perfected—and things just ain't been right between America and those weasely Europeans ever since.

Transsexual singer Jayne County turns up to share some entertaining reflections about one of Dee Dee's early girlfriends, Connie, the junkie prostitute (two words you don't normally want people associating with your girlfriend!) who managed to get her hooks into both Dee Dee and New York Dolls bassist Arthur "Killer" Kane. She did this almost literally—reportedly stabbing Dee Dee in the ass and nearly sawing poor Arthur's thumb off! And people thought Yoko was a handful?!

County, of course, serves as a link to the whole decadent glam scene that was fueled by the New York Dolls a couple of years before the Ramones exploded onto the scene. And their influence on our young heroes is detailed here—though I'd have given anything to see just one good shot of the young Ramones-to-be dolled up in their platform shoes and feather boas headed out of Queens!

Things take an interesting turn midway through the film when the devil comes calling in the strange personage of Phil Spector—who made a career out of doing such a good job of playing an insane record producer that he actually became one! Up to this point, with every new album, the Ramones had held out hope that they were just one hot single away from their big commercial breakthrough. Promising them the one thing they so sorely lacked, that sure-fire hit record, Spector cajoled the boys into the studio to let him work his wizardry on the rough and raw sound of the Ramones.

Not surprisingly, the antics of the gun-toting perfectionist producer clashed with the band's usual slam-bang style, and the film makes the sessions sound like a living hell. The death of Johnny's father finally provided an excuse to escape the madness, and the guitarist even seemed to find having to deal with his father's death a welcome relief from having to deal with an all-too-alive Phil Spector. In the end, the deal with the devil didn't pay off anyway. The album, End Of The Century, didn't turn out to be the commercial breakthrough that everyone had hoped for.

The film points out that following the failure of the Spector collaboration, which had been strongly supported by Joey and reluctantly agreed to by Johnny, the band seemed to accept their lot in life and decided to soldier on without any of those dreamy little dreams of ever achieving anything resembling mainstream acceptance. The film also delves into the rarely-discussed romantic triangle in which Johnny eventually hooked up with the girl Joey still held a candle for (and to whom Johnny is still married to this day), and points out how this not only led to an irrevocable split within the band, but also may have served as the inspiration for the song "The KKK Took My Baby Away." Cherchez la femme!

Marky, Johnny, Joey and Dee Dee at the Second Chance, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1977. (not pictured but patiently waiting their turn, Tommy, Elvis, Richie and CJ)

With the band members personally alienated from one another and having given up any hope for a commercial breakthrough, the remaining years don't exactly come across as much of a party. In the film, Johnny refers to being in the band as "a job." And Johnny himself confirmed to me that the film's mood and perspective were fairly true-to-life and added, "It really doesn't make being a Ramone look like much fun at all!"

At some point, virtually every modern rock 'n' roll documentary starts to look a little like "Spinal Tap." And in this one, it clearly comes when Dee Dee's rap career is showcased. It's pretty hard not to find the sight of the strutting, sweatsuit-clad Dee Dee anything other than hilarious. And as Dee Dee himself accurately explains, "I'm not a Negro!" What's not so funny is Dee Dee's obvious drug problem. And when someone points out that Dee Dee probably would have been happier being in a band like the Heartbreakers with legendary junkies Jerry Nolan and Johnny Thunders than in a band that collected baseball cards like the Ramones, sadly it seems this couldn't be any truer.

The copiously tattooed and perpetually spaced out Dee Dee still manages to come off as probably the most sympathetic and entertaining character in the film. When he expresses his sincere amazement at the young Tommy Ramone's ability to actually prepare hamburgers and potatoes for himself, you realize what a helpless soul he truly must have been, but you also can't help but feel some sense of sympathy for his seeming inability to deal with the basic details of life. In the final image we see of Dee Dee in the film, he's wandering down a hotel hallway during the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction festivities muttering to himself, "Poor Dee Dee…" Poor Dee Dee, indeed!

Every film that ends with a band of guys who've been together through thick and thin finally fracturing is always bound to have a slightly tragic feel to it—especially if two of them actually die! But in addition to providing a window into the unpleasant unraveling of a great band, this film also helps to give credit to this motley gang of outsiders who did something so simple that it seemed revolutionary—they brought spirit and passion back to rock & roll at a time when it looked like it might be in danger of dying an unceremonious death by a thousand disco cuts!

And thanks to their ardent devotion to keeping the rock ’n’ roll flame alive, this strange little band that never seemed to be able to catch their big break somehow manages to resonate in the hearts and minds—and leather jackets—of so many people around the world today. Despite all their conflicts and struggles, End Of The Century serves to remind us that, just like rock 'n' roll itself, the Ramones are too tough to die after all!