(Sanctuary)
Aside from occasionally hearing \I Wanna Be Sedated"" on the radio, my first exposure to the Ramones was sometime in the eighth grade, in the form of a black t-shirt sporting the band's bastardized presidential seal logo. It was worn by a particularly dangerous brand of classmate, who transferred in the middle of the year, drank forties of malt liquor during lunch and lurched around with an amazingly efficient gait.
When we formed our first band a couple of years later, I found out he was the model of a Ramones' scholar, writing songs that tried to be simultaneously loud, catchy, deceptively stupid and genuine. We also found out how difficult it is to do right, and suffice it to say that we never came very close to dethroning Johnny, Tommy, Dee Dee and Joey Ramone. After the Ramones broke up in 1996, Joey started working on the songs that make up his only solo release, Don't Worry About Me, which was recorded last year before Joey succumbed to lymphoma. Although this album sounds a lot like End of the Century-era Ramones, any attention to the lyrics here will assure you that Don't Worry is very different from anything Ramones that came before.
Gone (with the exception of the knowingly inane ""Mr. Punchy"") are the songs that were made up of two lines repeated over and over that were once a large part of the Ramones' repertoire. ""Venting (It's A Different World Today)"" does exactly that: Over a typical three-chord progression, Joey growls about ""kids killing kids"" and ""politicians talkin' through their assholes."" It's shockingly bitter, an ""I Guess I Just Wasn't Made for These Times"" from a punk rocker who, once upon a time, would have you think he didn't care about anything other than sniffing glue.
""Maria Bartiromo"" is a similarly puzzling one, waxing romantic about the puffy-lipped CNBC anchor whose eyes make everything okay as she lets you know ""what's happening with Intel."" And if you weren't expecting that, just wait until you wrap your brain around the cover of ""What A Wonderful World""'joyous, hopeful and kick-ass in equal measure.
And if these songs are just a little awkward, then they've got nothing on the harrowing ""I Got Knocked Down (But I'll Get Up),"" written from the hospital bed that Joey never actually got up from. The chorus is nothing more than ""I, I want life/I want my life,"" and then, ""It really sucks!"" a common Ramones' sentiment made almost unbearably heavy by Joey's obviously impending mortality. The last track, ""Don't Worry About Me,"" is Joey's final kiss-off, a farewell to ""the kinda girl that you just can't get through to,"" no matter how hard you try, and it's time to give up.
Fair enough. Joey, you will be missed.
There was a time when, if you didn't like the new Ramones' album, there was nothing to do but put on Rocket to Russia and wait six months until the next one; no longer. While Don't Worry About Me is far from perfect, and it's not one you'll hear every day, it's nonetheless an absolutely essential piece of work, a window into the last days of an American hero.
Let's go!
