And musically? Worth it just for the awesome key change before the final verse, and for the babysitter's response after being asked if the coast is clear for snogging on the sofa: "She said they're quiet 'cept for one little creep." 4 Rockaway Beach So, while freshness is a relative concept with the Ramones, Babysitter still sounds fresh for me. Only at my fourth purchase did I find a copy with Babysitter (to my slight embarrassment, I now have six copies of Leave Home). I followed that with two secondhand original copies – one with a lyric inner sleeve – that had Carbona.
When I started hunting down the early Ramones albums in the mid-80s, Leave Home was out of print, so the first copy I found was a US import, which replaced Carbona … with Sheena Is a Punk Rocker. Leave Home, the second Ramones album, was originally issued with a substance abuse anthem called Carbona Not Glue, which was rapidly withdrawn for breaching the copyright of Carbona, a stain remover. 3 Babysitterīabysitter is a minor song, but makes it to the list by virtue of its relative unfamiliarity, at least to me. Oh Oh I Love Her So is pretty much a perfect pop package – pure bubblegum from start to finish, from the "whooo-eee-ooo" backing vocals to the rare but perfectly judged production flourish that ends the song: a little sprang! of surfy guitar. There's even an explicit nod to the Shangri-Las when Joey notes he's going to give her "a great big kiss", a more cheery nod than 1981's 7-11, which was the Ramones' own "death song" ("Oncoming car ran out of control/ It crushed my baby and it crushed my soul"). Their first date, naturally, is at Coney Island, where they go "on the coaster and around again". And where did they fall in love? By the soda machine.
Where did he meet her? At the Burger King. 2 Oh Oh I Love Her SoĪnd here's the 60s pop template: Oh Oh I Love Her So is pretty much the classic American teenagerdom of cliche boiled down to its essence. Things they do want: to sniff some glue, to be a good boy, to be sedated, to be your boyfriend, to be well, to live.
#RAMONES SONGS MOVIE#
They would repeat the horror movie deconstruction trope on their second album, with You Should Never Have Opened That Door, with its sublime couplet: "You don't know what I can do with this axe/ Chop off your head so you better relax." Oh, and other things the Ramones don't want: to be learned, to be tamed, to walk around with you, to grow up, you, to live this life (anymore). Here, two decades before Kevin Williamson did it with the movie Scream, they deconstruct the horror film, but they only need three lines to do it: "Hey daddy-o/ I don't want to go down to the basement/ There's something down there." They added another four lines, but they added little, and two of them were repeated from those first three (by the way, the 1974 live clip linked to in the heading is a priceless record of the Ramones's early incompetence). One song, Chain Saw, was a straight tribute to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, though for the sake of providing a rhyme with "me", it became a "massacree". Broadly speaking, the early Ramones had two types of songs: the ones that took 60s pop as their template, with Joey offering lovelorn tremulousness, and the ones that appeared to have been written after watching trash movies on late-night TV.
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