Punk Rock Blitzkrieg: My Life as a Ramone
Marky Ramone
Language: English
Pages: 416
ISBN: 1451687788
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The “entertaining and enlightening” (Stephen King) final word on the genius and mischief of the Ramones, told by the man who created the beat behind their iconic music and lived to tell about it.
When punk rock reared its spiky head in the early seventies, Marc Bell had the best seat in the house. Already a young veteran of the prototype American metal band Dust, Bell took residence in artistic, seedy Lower Manhattan, where he played drums in bands that would shape rock music for decades to come, including Wayne County, who pioneered transsexual rock, and Richard Hell and the Voidoids, who directly inspired the entire early British punk scene.
If punk had royalty, in 1978 Marc became part of it when he was knighted “Marky Ramone” by Johnny, Joey, and Dee Dee of the iconoclastic Ramones. The band of tough misfits were a natural fit for Marky, who dressed punk before there was punk, and who brought his “blitzkrieg” style of drumming as well as the studio and stage experience the band needed to solidify its lineup. Together, they changed the world.
But Marky Ramone changed, too. The epic wear and tear of a dysfunctional group (and the Ramones were a step beyond dysfunction) endlessly crisscrossing the country and the world in an Econoline—practically a psychiatric ward on wheels—drove Marky from partying to alcoholism. When his life started to look more out of control then Dee Dee’s, he knew he had a problem. Marky left music in the mid-eighties to enter recovery and eventually returned to help the Ramones finally receive their due as one of the greatest and most influential bands of all time.
Covering in unflinching detail the cult film Rock ’N’ Roll High School to “I Wanna Be Sedated” to Marky’s own struggles, Punk Rock Blitzkrieg is an authentic and always honest look at the people who reinvented rock music, and not a moment too soon.
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The way through. “That’s not our image,” John said. “John, the ad didn’t say we were looking for a Dee Dee clone.” A few more bassists came and went, but then John lit up. A long-haired guy named Chris from Long Island played an okay version of “Sedated,” but Johnny Ramone looked like he had just seen a young Jack Bruce. John went over and spoke to Chris for a while and made sure we had his correct home phone number. The kid looked like he had just talked to God. After the last audition.
Father, 193–94 fight with Cindy, 171 fight with Marion, 280 fight with Seth Macklin, 281 fixation on money, 186, 211, 216, 217 friction with Joey, 139, 247–48, 313, 351–52, 367, 371 gratitude toward Marky, 311 health rumors about, 381–82 influence on C.J., 337–38 loses Roxy, 281 moves in with Linda, 314 nickname “Sloth,” 218 obsession with baseball, 216–17 passion for science fiction, 322 politics, 134, 136, 138–39, 202–3 prostate cancer diagnosis, 378–79, 381–82 racist views,.
Been working with John Lennon, photographing him and Yoko Ono throughout the city. I thought of asking Bob if he had seen Lennon lately, but as soon as the thought hit, there he was. John Lennon stumbled out of the coatroom. He was wearing sunglasses, a long blue coat, and a newsboy cap similar to the one he wore in the movie A Hard Day’s Night. For some reason, he looked taller in person. Not for long, though. Lennon stumbled, and Bob grabbed him under the shoulder. Lennon had tripped over.
Hadn’t rained for weeks. Mike and I got out of the car, while Dee Dee, no longer rapping, sat in the back. When I dropped down and looked under the Impala, I could see the catalytic converter was extremely hot from the smoke coming off it. “Dee Dee,” I said. “You gotta get out of the car.” “I’m not getting out,” he said. “I just saw an alligator.” I knew what he meant. The nickname for this stretch of highway was Alligator Alley. There were plenty of mosquitoes around, but no alligators. It.
Being taken out to dinner by the promoters. The Italian food was the best in the world, but the meal was a dozen-course event dragged out until two in the morning, at which point we really understood why the Italians needed their siesta. The sound check at Castel Sant’Angelo was a short study in contrasts. In the daylight, we played “Cretin Hop” against the backdrop of the ancient fortress built two thousand years earlier by Emperor Hadrian. The walls of the castle had deflected bombardments of.