MUSIC Ramones ushered in new rock era

Though the punk group never had a hit, it influenced a generation of musicians.
NEW YORK (AP) -- Standing onstage at Madison Square Garden last summer, Pearl Jam frontman Eddie Vedder pulled out a cell phone to call Johnny Ramone at home. Before dialing, Vedder explained his motivation for the long-distance shout out.
"The Ramones ... they were maybe one of the greatest American rock bands ever," Vedder told a cheering crowd in the band's hometown. "They were a punk band."
On Wednesday, Vedder was among the friends and family members at Ramone's California home when the hugely influential guitarist died of prostate cancer. Once ignored and unappreciated, the Ramones are now rightly hailed for what they were: a groundbreaking quartet that emerged as the Beatles of punk.
"They definitely changed rock 'n' roll," said Legs McNeil, co-author of the definitive punk rock history "Please Kill Me." "It's not like they affected one or two bands. They affected every band."
In a typically twisted turn of events for the star-crossed band, much of its acclaim came after the Ramones imploded in 1996. Their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame came a year after lead singer Joey Ramone died of lymphoma in 2001, and 11 weeks before bassist Dee Dee Ramone was claimed by a drug overdose.
"Their whole career had such irony," said Danny Fields, the band's first manager. "They wanted to have hit singles and be a big band, but they never made the radio. And now their music is in television commercials and stadiums."
Influential
Indicative of the band's wide-ranging influence were the musicians with Johnny before his death: Vedder, Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante, Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones, singer Rob Zombie, singer-songwriter Pete Yorn, even Lisa Marie Presley.
When the Ramones released their self-titled first album in 1976, the rock scene belonged to art bands such as Yes or perfectly coifed rockers such as Peter Frampton. There was nothing like the four outcasts from Queens, with their matching haircuts, leather jackets, ripped jeans and T-shirts.
Nothing sounded like them, either. Their three-chord, two-minute songs were like machine-gun blasts. Joey yelped over the thunderous riffs, singing improbably titled tunes such as "Beat on the Brat," "I Wanna Be Sedated" or "Teenage Lobotomy."
"They took an art form becoming corrupt and stagnant and pumped life into it," Fields said. "They reinvented it. They defined the sound of rock 'n' roll for at least one generation, and probably two."
In an era in which bands spent small fortunes on extravagant productions -- think the Eagles' "Hotel California" -- the low-tech Ramones cranked out their first album in two days at a cost of $6,400.
"They opened the door for misfits who felt they didn't have a purpose in the world," said veteran disc jockey Meg Griffin, now with Sirius Satellite Radio. "They were absolute pioneers."
Mainstay of punk
The band became one of the mainstays of the new music scene at CBGB's during the mid-1970s, and spread the musical word to England with a tour that began July 4, 1976 -- the U.S. Bicentennial. "They're the daddy punk group of all time," Joe Strummer, lead singer of the Clash, once said.
But the Ramones never scored a hit single, and their best-selling album -- the Phil Spector-produced "End of the Century" -- only reached No. 44 on the charts in 1980. Despite more than 2,300 lives shows, they found commercial success eternally elusive.
Their 1996 retirement caused barely a ripple. And unlike Pearl Jam, the Ramones never played Madison Square Garden; they toured endlessly in a van, playing far smaller venues.
"What's really sad is they retire and they all die," said McNeil, referring to the three dead members of the band. "Really, the shame is these guys don't get to enjoy their lives after touring for years in that van.
"Now they're all gone. It's so weird."