Ramones—Ramones

Ramones—Ramones

Ramones—Few albums so effectively distill rock and roll down to its primal essence. The well-established-by-then group Fleetwood Mac recorded the double LP Tusk in 1978 for a cost exceeding $1 million, which by 2015 standards could be closer to $10 million. Ramones, which came out of nowhere two years earlier to take New York City by storm, reportedly cost only $6,400.

That's not to say Ramones was a hit on the order of Rumours, because it wasn't, and it only became gold-certified in 2014, less than three months before the death of the only remaining original member Tommy Erdelyi. Tommy, the band's drummer, is pictured second from the left on the cover, though it can be tough to distinguish the four from one another with their near-identical attire—jeans, leather jackets, and sneakers—the Beatles as outsiders, with guitarist Johnny and bassist Dee Dee even sporting bowl cuts. This persona may not seem novel today, but when the Ramones formed in 1974, no one was doing what they were doing. That goes double for the music, which was suggested by the likes of the Stooges and Death, but never perfectly condensed into what became punk rock until the Ramones bashed out their 29-minute debut.

"Blitzkrieg Bop" today is something of an archetype. It has been used in everything from sports games to commercials, which is amusing considering the fact that "blitzkrieg" refers to Nazi war tactics, though the Tommy-penned song was more of a simple punk dance tune until Dee Dee altered the lyrics ("Cretin Hop" from Rocket to Russia [1977] would be closer to Tommy's original idea). "Beat on the Brat," written by lead singer Joey about a desire to batter unruly children, is a great example of rock minimalism with its straying beat and two-chord verses, perhaps inspired by the Modern Lovers' "Roadrunner." Beloved by fans, "Judy Is a Punk" references the knowingly-insipid "I'm Henry the VIII, I Am" by Herman's Hermits ("Second verse: same as the first") as Joey muses of impressionable young people Jackie and Judy, "Perhaps they'll die." "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" seems out of place until it is noted that the band and the album itself were influenced by Phil Spector, who would produce their fifth album, End of the Century (1980). Its facade is quickly ripped apart by the blistering "Chain Saw," about contemporary film The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, with Joey recounting the grim plot of the movie before reacting, "I don't care."

"Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue" is a brainy lyric that must be studied to be understood, featuring a rare but excellent Johnny guitar solo. "I Don't Wanna Go down to the Basement" is something like the album's epic at 2:35. "Loudmouth," which musically is something like the inverse of "Blitzkrieg Bop," has a simple or ironic message: "You're a loudmouth, baby/You better shut it up/I'm gonna beat you up." "Havana Affair" trivializes the United States' ongoing conflict with Cuba and "Listen to My Heart" condenses breakup lessons into two minutes of song. "53rd and 3rd" details the legend of Dee Dee's male prostitution stint on the corner of 53rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan, though he was not a Green Beret and it is questionable whether or not he "took out [his] razor blade/and ... did what God forbade." Keyboard or organ can actually be heard buried deep under the distortion on the cover of Chris Montez' "Let's Dance." Johnny's guitar roars to great satisfaction on the sparse "I Don't Wanna Walk around with You," while on "Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World" Joey rises above it to yell, "I'm a shock trooper in stupor ... I'm a Nazi schazte/You know I fight for Fatherland."

Plenty of artists have recorded music simpler or more minimal than Ramones, but never before it were the prime aspects of a pure rock and roll band so directly put to an LP. Their music was not as visceral as the Velvet Underground, and that comparison highlights the one flaw of Ramones' debut: it wasn't particularly eclectic, and coupled with their simple lyrics it made for the occasional forgettable song. Of course, complexity wasn't the reason to listen to Ramones; as a record of unbridled energy, not to mention underrated humor, it has few peers.

The Clash—Give 'em Enough Rope

The Clash—Give 'em Enough Rope

Give 'em Enough Rope—Punk rock as a denominator generally holds the implication that the artist will follow their own path, but in the first wave of punk, there were some persistent conventions. Many punk debuts were loud: Ramones, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols, and Young Loud and Snotty to name a few, and The Clash (1977) was certainly no exception. Oftentimes—and the same is true of any artist—these bands were at a loss how to follow them up, especially since the approach on the debuts were characteristically fairly simple. The Ramones churned out a near-replica, the Sex Pistols burned out before they could record a follow-up, and Dead Boys produced what was seen as a lukewarm sequel courtesy of production problems. The Clash ended up with results somewhere in the middle.

While blistering punk was a viable commodity in the United Kingdom, even the most popular U.S. punk bands couldn't crack the charts in their own homeland. CBS' desire to reach a wider audience somehow resulted in the hiring of Blue Öyster Cult and Dictators producer Sandy Pearlman. This move has been criticized, perhaps not as harshly as other artist/producer mismatches through the annals of time, but the end result, Give 'em Enough Rope, was not actually that different principally from The Clash. No more convincing experience can be had than firing up "Safe European Home" at the wrong volume and getting an earful of feedback. An ill-fated trip to Jamaica inspired group leaders Joe Strummer and Mick Jones to write the song, the two of who, along with their bandmates, worked with Lee "Scratch" Perry on some of their singles, covered "Police & Thieves" on their debut, and would later record plenty more reggae- and dub-influenced songs. It is also notable for Strummer's refrain of "Rudie can't fail," a line which would be fashioned into an entire song on their third album, London Calling (1979).

"English Civil War," derived from the traditional "When Johnny Comes Marching Home," is an interesting inclusion. It is interpreted here as Jones/Strummer's response to British racism, offering the sly dig, "Your face was blue in the light of the screen." "Tommy Gun" speaks out against war by, if nothing else, drowning out the gunfire with drums and guitars. The sweeter "Julie's Been Working for the Drug Squad" (originally billed as "Julie's in the Drug Squad") is probably one of the reasons the album was met with some criticism, but it is in fact one of its highlights; the song refers to the 1977 raids of places of LSD manufacture ("Operation Julie") and possibly hints at a certain futility of its objective ("And then there came the night of the greatest ever raid/They arrested every drug that had ever been made"). "Last Gang in Town" is the longest song on the album and probably also the weakest, its music uninspiring and its words somewhat aimless.

"Guns on the Roof" resembles "Clash City Rockers" and "Capital Radio," which themselves resembled the Who's "I Can't Explain" (though it should be noted that the Who's riff was nothing particularly intricate). The song's title refers to an incident in which bassist Paul Simonon and drummer Topper Headon were arrested by counter-terrorism forces for shooting at pigeons. The demented "Drug-Stabbing Time" is an underrated jaunt that could also reference the incident ("Paying off the big fine;" Simonon and Headon were each fined £30). "Stay Free," a great, heartfelt song about friendship, was written by Jones for his childhood friend and Clash roadie Robin Crocker, who had just finished spending time in prison for robbing banks. "Cheapskates" attacks those who scorned the Clash for trying to live their lives like normal people following their successes, while "All the Young Punks (New Boots and Contracts)" (titled "That's No Way to Spend Your Youth" on the original U.S. issue) explores the same ground, but directed at those who tried to follow in their footsteps.

Give 'em Enough Rope doesn't have the same impact as The Clash (either the U.K. original or the U.S. release) or the sprawling genius of London Calling, but aside from a couple flat songs and borrowed tunes, it just as stimulating as (and sometimes smarter than) those records. It's not desert island Clash, but it is essential.

Dead Boys—Young Loud and Snotty

Dead Boys—Young Loud and Snotty

Young Loud and Snotty—There exists a band that formed in 1974, disbanded in '75, and reformed in '03 called Rocket from the Tombs. This band is probably most well-known for spawning the long-running post-punk outfit Pere Ubu, which shared members David Thomas and Peter Laughner, but it also generated one of the first New York punk bands. Dead Boys, as did Rocket from the Tombs, hailed from Cleveland, Ohio originally, but moved to New York to join the burgeoning punk scene led by the Ramones. The Ramones and their contemporaries often flirted with commercial appeal, and despite their attitudes and the often-hostile nature of the venues in which they played, were not violent people. Dead Boys were closer to that fantasy than perhaps any other punk band, and so it is fitting that their debut LP was titled Young Loud and Snotty.

Their most famous song, "Sonic Reducer," opens the album with a menacing rollout of barre chords led by the snarl of lead singer Stiv Bators, co-written by non-member David Thomas and lead guitarist Cheetah Chrome during their Rocket from the Tombs days. Bators spews, "I'll be a pharaoh soon/Rule from some golden tomb," in the tribute to each and every outsider. "All This and More" sees Bators philosophize, "Can I describe what it's like/To have sex with the light on?" before telling his date, "You feel so dead tonight;" the guitar, drum, and handclap march is a dead ringer for L.A.M.F. by Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, which was released the same month. The band's chorus proclaims on "What Love Is," "I don't need none of your bedroom-bruised sweet box [...] I wanna write on your face with my pretty knife," leaving the listener to interpret whether this is what love is.

"Not Anymore" was an alley-walker's nightmarish lament in a time when Alice Cooper was going suffering a lean period and Nick Cave had not yet surfaced. The pure rock-and-roll "Ain't Nothin' to Do" elucidates the real reason why young, loud, and snotty young men do the things they do: boredom. "Caught with the Meat in Your Mouth" is one of the catchiest songs in the set, and despite its markedly obscene title, is not far-removed from Chuck Berry. The live cover of "Hey Little Girl," which in its own time reached #8 on the U.S. charts, fits right in with the Dead Boys' image and makes the listener wonder whether they could have been hit-makers in an earlier time period. "I Need Lunch" is a nihilistically-profound piece of primordia containing the stunning verse, "Look at me that way, bitch/Your face is gonna get a punch/I said I don't need no cook-girl/I need lunch." "High Tension Wire" is an ode to living on the edge, as is the Rocket from the Tombs holdover "Down in Flames," from which the band drew their name.

Young Loud and Snotty, though not revolutionary, is an important piece of punk history that shows the more truly nasty side of American punk music. It is not on GG Allin's level of insanity, but its crass assault of pure rock-and-roll and lewd verbal imagery borders on high art at times. It is a half-hour of blistering punk music that is essential for any fan's collection.