By Mariane Matera
Another writer is handling the Ramones show at the Flood Zone, so my job is easy. Deliver a gift from Gwar's Dave Brockie to Joey Ramone. It's Hitler's head. I show up with Tammy Rosenson, the writer/photographer, at the soundcheck at 5:30 p.m., but even though it was arranged by the publicist, we're blown off. We go to dinner at Moondance with Hitler's head still in the bag.
After dinner, we hump back down to the Flood Zone carrying the head and stand on line to get in. Tammy, with two large bags of photo and interview equipment, is passed right through. I get stopped.
"What's in the bag?"
I've been waiting for this moment all my life.
"Hitler's head."
We get a spot at the rail upstairs. We're supposed to be called back to interview the Ramones at 8 p.m., but the opening band, Otis (not the local band Otis), starts precisely at eight. I tell Tammy if the Ramones summon, she'll have to take Hitler's head so I can stay behind and defend our position. It is too good a spot to lose. The Ramones don't summon us.
Otis plays a loud, hard, 30-minute set. Resetting the stage takes 15 minutes and Rocket 69, introducing themselves as "a Ramones cover band. This is our soundcheck," does a loud, hard-driving 30 minute set. Stage diving and body surfing have been banned. The audience is quiet and patient throughout. There's another 15 minute reset.
(The next day we talked to Mark Zip, the Los 10 Space drummer, who we spotted slamming in the pit. He said he got his face hit and it hurt real bad. He was kicked in the shins five times and it hurt real bad. Someone stomped on his Achilles heel and it hurt real bad. He was slammed up against the barricades and pummeled, and it hurt real bad.
"I had a great time!" he said.
But he didn't think the opening bands did. In his view, the sound was set for the Ramones and the opening bands had to deal with it. He said Rocket 69 especially got screwed. He's never heard them sound worse, but could tell from their faces they were playing their hearts out. That might explain Dan-o's testy comments opening his set about this being their soundcheck.
"You couldn't hear the kick at all and there was too much low-end bass," Mark thought. "And they didn't use the lights at all for the opening bands.")
For the Ramones' set, the roadies come out and tune and check the guitars and mics. A fourth of the crowd must have waited outside for the headliner because now the downstairs floor is wall to wall. Upstairs at the rails, it's only three deep and comfortable.
The lights dim, the crowd roars, and the band takes the stage about 9:45 p.m. A wall of lights behind them pretty much blinds us. Although we're the only ones who cleared a photo pass with the band, there's two photographers at the barricade wall, one of them Mark Holmberg of the Times-Dispatch.
The Ramones appear to be (to me) Howard Stern, Mike Garrett, and two other guys. They play with their legs spread far apart, although Joey seems knock-kneed. There's very little talk between songs. Halfway through, the roadies take off the guitar and bass player's leather jackets and hand them different guitars. Joey never takes his jacket or leather gloves off. The others are wearing Yoo Hoo soda, A Hard Day's Night, and Plan 9 T-shirts. Joey leaves the stage periodically when C.J., the bass player, whose voice projects better, does vocals.
They do 45 minutes, concluding with a "Gabba Gabba Hey" sign held up and a giant dancing monkey or something on the stage, and then come back for two three-song encores. By the second encore, the pit, which has been slamming, looks exhausted, but the Ramones don't even seem sweaty. The band has water-proof hair. A fan on the side of the stage keeps blow drying Johnny, spinning his hair around like a plate. At the beginning of the second encore, we are finally summoned upstairs.
I tote Hitler's head to the third floor where we wait, then we're moved to a holding area outside the dressing room. We're on line ahead of the band sluts. The road manager, who looks like Lenny Bruce, says ominously "you can have one minute."
One band slut is telling the door guard, "We've been riding around with them all day," and something about it being her birthday. She stands very close to the guard at the door. I clutch Hitler's head in my arms. We're suddenly waved through with a "hurry, hurry."
The Ramones look remarkably youthful for a band that's been hitting it hard since 1974 and are just sitting there in the room alone. They still don't look sweaty. They don't look tired. Barely touched, cheese-heavy pizza and a veggie tray are on the tables. I notice more Cokes than beer.
Joey is not around. Tammy zeroes in on her favorite, Johnny, and asks him her interview questions. He says he noticed her taking photos. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to blow us off. We give him Hitler's head. The 50th anniversay of the Fuehrer's death was that week and there's been a lot of Hitler stuff on television. Johnny says he watched some of it. They graciously give us time to load another roll of film and photograph Johnny with the head.
Now that I've handed the head over, I have nothing to do, so I start eating the Ramones' carrots. The band sluts are ushered in. One tells Johnny it's her birthday. He seems non-commital. Actually, her birthday is tomorrow, and she'll only be the age she is now for 20 more minutes, she says.
I wonder what she's implying, but I'll never know. Maybe for the next 20 minutes, she'll be eating the Ramones' carrots.
Joey, still wearing shades which he wore throughout the show, finally walks in. We walk out. Back downstairs, we spot members of Los 10 Space, Trauma Kamp, the Vapor Rhinos, and Mike Garrett of Single Bullet Theory. It's raining. Something doesn't feel right. I feel like less. I've been with Hitler's head for nine hours and now it's gone. Dinner at Moondance, a Ramones concert. That head was the best date I've had this year. I miss it.
(I dug this story out of the box because a) the last Ramone just died, and b) just this past week, I learned the girlfriend of my friend, Dean, was the band slut who was 20 minutes away from her birthday on May 4, 1995. She told me she has forgiven me for calling her a band slut. I asked her how she got upstairs. She said she knew one of the Ragdolls.)
In Tammy's interview, she is allowed to speak to Johnny only and learns they left Sire Records because they needed a change. They do not want to be playing in 10 years. "Rock'n'Roll High School" ruined their acting careers. They only planned to tour one more year. "We've been doing it for 21 years. That's long enough."
They ask Tammy if she liked the show and she says she was very happy. The year before she was hit by a beer bottle and had a lump on her head for days, but this year, there were no injuries! Johnny doesn't understand why people have to act crazy in the audience. Tammy asks them if fans do strange things to get to them. He says no. "We just go to the van and leave." When on tour, "we sit around and watch TV. Go out to dinner. Nothing much. Go out and see a band once in awhile." Johnny likes 1950s rock and roll. It's Tammy's recollection, that my now new friend the band slut asked Johnny for a birthday kiss.
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| Photo by Tammy Rosenson |
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