Gabba, gabba, hey: ten years without Joey Ramone

Marco Damiani_247 - “One, two, three, four!” – when Joey gave the order, the Ramones' sonic mass descended upon the audience, making everyone jump. He himself, however, kept to himself. At 2.02 meters tall, wearing the same black leather jacket, long, chunky jeans open in a "V" behind the microphone, the most he did was a few steps forward, a few jumps. He remained in control, igniting without burning himself. And he sang beautifully. With the same force from beginning to end. In tune, raspy, modulated, screamed, angry, way up high. None of Mick Jagger's antics, none of Johnny Rotten's grimaces, zero of the technological apparatus that surrounds Bono, who, incidentally, is his personal friend. Joey stayed there, in the middle of the stage, behind his dark glasses, often with blue lenses, putting his deep voice ahead of Dee Dee's bass, Mark's drums, and Johnny's guitar. He thus became, without any pretension, the greatest of all in the hearts of his millions and millions of fans worldwide. The de facto leader of the band that most influenced rock groups that were his contemporaries or came after him, from punk to heavy metal, hardcore and indie, classics and new rock. The Ramones had something to teach everyone, but no one came close to Joey's charisma.

Honestly, Joey was the kind of guy many people would have liked to call a friend. Quiet, shy, and reflective, he seemed unable to quite find his place in the world, except when he was composing and, of course, on stage. Born in Queens, the outskirts of New York, in 1951, he was undoubtedly destined for this. He sang in a few small bands until he joined Dee Dee and Johnny. They needed a drummer, so they called their partner Mark. The four of them, in the mid-70s, ended up at the CBGB nightclub, opening their first show on August 16, 1974, with "Blitzkrieg Bop," the band's inaugural composition. There were about five or six guys watching, but one of them, luckily, recorded the performance on video. The entrance fee was a symbolic one dollar. But the guys got excited, caught the attention of the club owner, and were invited back night after night. The entrance fee started to rise to $2, $3, $5! It was an immediate hit with the public, and with it, a great rock vocalist was born, capable of modulating the band's hard chords, singing loudly the verses he himself wrote about his broken family, hard drugs, dirty streets, the girl lost to the KKK (read: Johnny). It was Joey, that skinny guy over there.

Frightened, the United States immediately boycotted the Ramones. They weren't played on the radio, and were accused, like everyone in the nascent punk movement, of wanting to destroy the culture and customs of the nation. Tough luck. To compensate for the lack of exposure, they went on the road, playing in small country clubs, blowing the minds of thousands of boys and girls live, uncut, many of whom would go on to form their own bands. Despite his height, Joey would squeeze into cramped vans without complaint, barely exchanging words with the others. He was the one with the most fragile health. The most withdrawn personality.

In 1977, on New Year's Eve, the Ramones went to England and rocked it. It's recorded on *It's Alive*. Upon their return, the usual difficulties from the US persisted. Together, amidst drugs and internal conflicts, they even shared a tiny apartment in New York, mattresses on the floor, that sort of thing. And they never abandoned CBGB. Mass success arrived without them even realizing it or caring much about it. Joey barely bothered to speak at press conferences, held back by Johnny, who took over the internal management of the band. They were the only founding members who never left the Ramones. 

When he died of lymphatic cancer on April 15, 2001, Joey left millions of fans saddened, but for each one, a different kind of lesson. Lessons were drawn from his lyrics, his performances, his understated yet brilliant way of living life. For me, the one that stuck with me the most is this: you can be a star without resorting to stardom.

Watch the video for the classic "Sheena is a Punk Rocker" now.