dogmatika
Some kind of punk Lourdes
13 September 2006
"I see the Chelsea as a metaphor for life itself, society in rarefied microcosm."
Bruno Wizard of The Rejects and The Homosexuals, swings by the Chelsea Hotel:
Can you tell us any stories about Dee Dee Ramone?
Dee Dee was the instigator and the driving force of the Ramones. When punk kicked off in London, one of its crystallizing moments was when the Ramones played the Roundhouse. Punk was to sweep away anything to do with the hippies, and the Roundhouse was a symbol of the hippies. Just to see that gig was a momentous experience for me. When I got to know Dee Dee later, he came to stay with me in London. I took him out to the Rave clubs, and it was amazing to see how all the DJs worshiped him and bowed down to him, dropping all pretense, because even though it was part of their thing to say that his music was for old people, they realized what an enormous influence it had had on them. I knew Dee Dee when he had cleaned up, and that’s why he liked hanging out with me, because he knew I wouldn’t be whipping out some cocaine or something and saying, hey come on Dee Dee, let’s do a line.
One time we went to a party with the Hell’s Angels at a club called the Lions Den. Dee Dee was like a God to them because of his reputation for fast living. He was trying to stay sober, but he was worried about letting them down. He was nervous because he thought they’d kill him, saying, ah we’re doing you a favor Dee Dee, you’ve gone soft. (They were very respectful to Dee Dee but he was somewhat overwhelmed by their perception of him as a fast living hellraiser etc. which was entirely understandable.) It was OK at first because nobody much was there. But then all these bikes roared up and they all surrounded Dee Dee and he disappeared into a sea of leather and beards and beer bellies and nose hair. It wasn’t until much later that night that I saw him again, and, well, the rest goes without saying.
Another time, I was in Stanley Bard’s office—it’s like being called into the headmaster’s office—for not paying the rent. I remember him saying, “I’m gonna change the lock,” but he always said dramatic things like that and I knew he wouldn’t do it. But right when he said that, I looked out the window and something came crashing down onto the pavement. Oh my God, I said, and I ran out to see what it was. At that moment I ran into Dee Dee coming back into the hotel, his face white as a ghost. This was right at the time he was trying to quit using drugs, and he had just worked up the courage to go out after staying locked in his room for several days. What had happened was that a woman had thrown herself from a window on the 9th floor. The operator had called her and said she had to check out, and she had said, “I’ll be right down.” And it was right at that moment that Dee Dee stepped out of the hotel. [Editor’s note: You wouldn’t believe it if it was somebody else, but that was just the sort of thing that always happened to Dee Dee.]
Dee Dee was very sensitive and struggled to find meaning in his life. At the time he was asking himself, can I live my life without drugs? Music was central to his being. He was a blues purist, but neither the other Ramones, nor his fans, wanted him to deviate from the kind of music he was famous for.
[thanks to the anonymous person who sent this in; much appreciated]
Dee Dee was the instigator and the driving force of the Ramones. When punk kicked off in London, one of its crystallizing moments was when the Ramones played the Roundhouse. Punk was to sweep away anything to do with the hippies, and the Roundhouse was a symbol of the hippies. Just to see that gig was a momentous experience for me. When I got to know Dee Dee later, he came to stay with me in London. I took him out to the Rave clubs, and it was amazing to see how all the DJs worshiped him and bowed down to him, dropping all pretense, because even though it was part of their thing to say that his music was for old people, they realized what an enormous influence it had had on them. I knew Dee Dee when he had cleaned up, and that’s why he liked hanging out with me, because he knew I wouldn’t be whipping out some cocaine or something and saying, hey come on Dee Dee, let’s do a line.
One time we went to a party with the Hell’s Angels at a club called the Lions Den. Dee Dee was like a God to them because of his reputation for fast living. He was trying to stay sober, but he was worried about letting them down. He was nervous because he thought they’d kill him, saying, ah we’re doing you a favor Dee Dee, you’ve gone soft. (They were very respectful to Dee Dee but he was somewhat overwhelmed by their perception of him as a fast living hellraiser etc. which was entirely understandable.) It was OK at first because nobody much was there. But then all these bikes roared up and they all surrounded Dee Dee and he disappeared into a sea of leather and beards and beer bellies and nose hair. It wasn’t until much later that night that I saw him again, and, well, the rest goes without saying.
Another time, I was in Stanley Bard’s office—it’s like being called into the headmaster’s office—for not paying the rent. I remember him saying, “I’m gonna change the lock,” but he always said dramatic things like that and I knew he wouldn’t do it. But right when he said that, I looked out the window and something came crashing down onto the pavement. Oh my God, I said, and I ran out to see what it was. At that moment I ran into Dee Dee coming back into the hotel, his face white as a ghost. This was right at the time he was trying to quit using drugs, and he had just worked up the courage to go out after staying locked in his room for several days. What had happened was that a woman had thrown herself from a window on the 9th floor. The operator had called her and said she had to check out, and she had said, “I’ll be right down.” And it was right at that moment that Dee Dee stepped out of the hotel. [Editor’s note: You wouldn’t believe it if it was somebody else, but that was just the sort of thing that always happened to Dee Dee.]
Dee Dee was very sensitive and struggled to find meaning in his life. At the time he was asking himself, can I live my life without drugs? Music was central to his being. He was a blues purist, but neither the other Ramones, nor his fans, wanted him to deviate from the kind of music he was famous for.
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