— Tom Hibbert
It had been nearly ten years since the release of the first Ramones album, no great amount of time looking back now but lengthy enough while it was happening. During that time, they had overseen the invention of punk, played about in a New York scene featuring groups that couldn't have been more different from them, witnessed the UK punk revolution take off (then saw it rapidly crumble), saw off contemporaries who all went the pop and/or stadium rock and happened to be not too far away as hip hop began to take off. Everything changed but them.
But not really. They went through drummers, their sound got poppier, they had to endure the trauma of having Phil Spector produce them with firearms present (and possibly aimed in their direction), normal rock star shenanigans. But their core remained with each member retaining their distinctive traits (Joey's deadbeat guttural vocal, Johnny's whiplash buzzsaw power chords, Dee Dee's perceptively dumb lyrics). They were very much still the Ramones.
"Bonzo Goes to Bitburg" was seen as a huge departure because it dealt with Ronald Reagan's controversial trip to a German military cemetery in May of 1985. While the visit was reputedly to commemorate the end of the Second World War, the American president drew the ire of many for laying a wreath near the burial sites of actual war criminals. Surviving victims of the Nazis were upset, as were many in Israel, as well as veterans back in the States. And one Joey Ramone.
The Ramones didn't do politics. (For all of that "left wing entertainers" stuff you hear about, the only member of the group who happened to be open about his political tendencies was Johnny who was never shy of praising Reagan or George W. Bush) Their debut single "Blitzkrieg Bop" borrows from Nazi bombing raids but it's a song about idiots falling in line. Idiocy was their bag. They weren't idiots themselves but performed from the perspective of them. Though college kids would eventually become their core audience, they were really singing to lonely youths from broken homes who dropped out of school, committed petty crimes and were losers — people just like the Ramones.
A good thing, then, that "Bonzo..." isn't quite as political as you might think. In reality, it's about watching the evening news and being dumbfounded by it. Joey looked at Reagan giving a speech at Bitburg and asked himself, "what the fuck is he doing?" but didn't have an answer. Perhaps not knowing quite what to say, the song was co-written by Dee Dee and Jean Beauvoir of The Plasmatics. Having three authors could have reduced the impact of the song but I think they only ended up making it more disjointed. The verses focus on the absurdity of political home truths ("you watch the world complain but you do it anyway"), the chorus is focused on taking shots at that B movie actor currently in the White House and then there's its extension ("my brain is hanging upside down") that sums up a ludicrous situation that leaves everyone in a state of helpless stupidity.
And that's the genius of the Ramones — and I don't even like them all that much.
~~~~~
"This is an English truck-drivin' song about having to eat Yorkie Bars in the horrific surroundings of "service areas" and listening to the ghastly weepies of country crooner Faron Young on a crackling in-cab radio. At least, that's what I think it's about."
— Tom Hibbert
America, America, America. The British love America. Even when they tell you that, in fact, they're very anti-America, there's a sense that they just don't like the brand of America that's being currently forcing itself upon them or that they feel let down that the country they look to has lost its way and has left them adrift.
Pop stars from the UK tend to make no bones about their debt to the US. A lot of them move there (even when they've never attained Stateside success), they all jump at doing vast American tours of cities major and minor (my Law of Tour T-Shirts states that you'll always find the name of at least one town in Oklahoma or South Dakota that no one has ever heard of on it) and some even get into the dodgy business of mythologising it. Because nothing says stick to your roots like pretending to be part of a culture that you don't belong to while ignoring the one you come from.
One may never be more British than when they're to be trying to be American but if one is to do so then the best strategy is either to not be overwhelmed by the influence or to get it completely wrong. Don't go the route taken by U2 (yes, I know they're Irish but it still applies) and pull a Rattle & Hum: soak up Americana if you must but don't act like you're an integral part of it, steep yourself in old school soul and country and rhythm 'n' blues but don't lose your own sound in it, visit Muscle Shoals but don't forget you come from Melton Mowbray.
Paddy McAloon is a gifted figure and has gradually become recognised as one of the UK's finest musical talents after a few years there in the eighties in which he was considered to be, in Tom Hibbert's words, "flitty and too clever by half". Perfect pitch, prodigious talent, songwriting skills to die for are among his strengths. What he doesn't possess is an understanding of America and doesn't pretend otherwise. While he would later explore it in greater depth on the 1988 album From Langley Park to Memphis, "Faron Young" is an early example of coming to grips with not quite getting America. (Even earlier dry runs, such as "Cue Fanfare" and "I Never Play Basketball Now", appear on Prefab Sprout's first album Swoon)
The truck driver here may indeed scoff Yorkie Bars in service areas in the middle of Northumbria while listening to old country laments, as Hibbert states, but he's at a loss. Not because of his job or strife with his family but because the tunes on the radio that are supposed to mean something to him don't, as Morrissey would sing a year later, say anything to him about his life. Where's the disconnect? Hauling crates of orange squash all over the Britain is not unlike the American trucker on his way through the mid-west, shouldn't the very same songs move them? (Changing stations on the radio dial is obviously not an option in this narrative)
McAloon is projecting but it's more than a little condescending to assume that the working class will react to a careworn country ballad in the same way. Having grown up near the petrol station that his father ran, he may have known more than a little about the tastes of your average trucker and that they might fly in the face of our expectations. Speaking of which, the fact that he was raised in such a working class environment goes against the image of a cozy, middle class youth who studied to be a priest and listened to "Georgie" Gershwin and Stephen Sondheim.
Expectations are further left like roadkill on the M6 by the song itself. Knocked for preciousness, being too bloody clever for their own good and some impenetrably hard to decypher lyrics, Swoon wasn't appreciated by many at the time. Determined to get people to appreciate what they were trying to do, the Sprouts delivered Steve McQueen, a lush album-of-the-year (well, probably the runner-up to Hounds of Love by Kate Bush) produced lovingly by Thomas Dolby. "When Love Breaks Down" impressed critics (though never quite enough to get them another SOTF) but failed so they doubled-down on the surprise factor with the hard hitting country swing of "Faron Young". It's hard to imagine McAloon and his chums really thought it stood a better chance than the gorgeous single that just flopped (even though it did enjoy a modest chart improvement, at least until its predecessor got released) but it does a great job of proving that they weren't wimps, weren't above doing supposed workingman's music and understood America. Only Prefab Sprout seemed to know that not understanding it is much more interesting.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Sparks: "Change"
I get the feeling it's much easier to get into Sparks retrospectively. You can dabble in various periods and phases and not feel much of an attachment to any one particular Mael sound. Hibbert seems to miss the Sparks of "Amateur Hour" and "This Town Ain't Bit Enough for the Both of Us" but their ambitions are way past that point. Cluttered, sure, but Ron and Russell Mael were never exactly minimalists and something like "Change" is all the better for being loaded with ideas. Perhaps knowing that their days as serious chart contenders were up, they throw together some sweet European synth-pop together with a bit of mid-eighties production and even a tasteful guitar solo. It's now thirty-five years on and they just keep changing. All hail Sparks.
Pop stars from the UK tend to make no bones about their debt to the US. A lot of them move there (even when they've never attained Stateside success), they all jump at doing vast American tours of cities major and minor (my Law of Tour T-Shirts states that you'll always find the name of at least one town in Oklahoma or South Dakota that no one has ever heard of on it) and some even get into the dodgy business of mythologising it. Because nothing says stick to your roots like pretending to be part of a culture that you don't belong to while ignoring the one you come from.
One may never be more British than when they're to be trying to be American but if one is to do so then the best strategy is either to not be overwhelmed by the influence or to get it completely wrong. Don't go the route taken by U2 (yes, I know they're Irish but it still applies) and pull a Rattle & Hum: soak up Americana if you must but don't act like you're an integral part of it, steep yourself in old school soul and country and rhythm 'n' blues but don't lose your own sound in it, visit Muscle Shoals but don't forget you come from Melton Mowbray.
Paddy McAloon is a gifted figure and has gradually become recognised as one of the UK's finest musical talents after a few years there in the eighties in which he was considered to be, in Tom Hibbert's words, "flitty and too clever by half". Perfect pitch, prodigious talent, songwriting skills to die for are among his strengths. What he doesn't possess is an understanding of America and doesn't pretend otherwise. While he would later explore it in greater depth on the 1988 album From Langley Park to Memphis, "Faron Young" is an early example of coming to grips with not quite getting America. (Even earlier dry runs, such as "Cue Fanfare" and "I Never Play Basketball Now", appear on Prefab Sprout's first album Swoon)
The truck driver here may indeed scoff Yorkie Bars in service areas in the middle of Northumbria while listening to old country laments, as Hibbert states, but he's at a loss. Not because of his job or strife with his family but because the tunes on the radio that are supposed to mean something to him don't, as Morrissey would sing a year later, say anything to him about his life. Where's the disconnect? Hauling crates of orange squash all over the Britain is not unlike the American trucker on his way through the mid-west, shouldn't the very same songs move them? (Changing stations on the radio dial is obviously not an option in this narrative)
McAloon is projecting but it's more than a little condescending to assume that the working class will react to a careworn country ballad in the same way. Having grown up near the petrol station that his father ran, he may have known more than a little about the tastes of your average trucker and that they might fly in the face of our expectations. Speaking of which, the fact that he was raised in such a working class environment goes against the image of a cozy, middle class youth who studied to be a priest and listened to "Georgie" Gershwin and Stephen Sondheim.
Expectations are further left like roadkill on the M6 by the song itself. Knocked for preciousness, being too bloody clever for their own good and some impenetrably hard to decypher lyrics, Swoon wasn't appreciated by many at the time. Determined to get people to appreciate what they were trying to do, the Sprouts delivered Steve McQueen, a lush album-of-the-year (well, probably the runner-up to Hounds of Love by Kate Bush) produced lovingly by Thomas Dolby. "When Love Breaks Down" impressed critics (though never quite enough to get them another SOTF) but failed so they doubled-down on the surprise factor with the hard hitting country swing of "Faron Young". It's hard to imagine McAloon and his chums really thought it stood a better chance than the gorgeous single that just flopped (even though it did enjoy a modest chart improvement, at least until its predecessor got released) but it does a great job of proving that they weren't wimps, weren't above doing supposed workingman's music and understood America. Only Prefab Sprout seemed to know that not understanding it is much more interesting.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Sparks: "Change"
I get the feeling it's much easier to get into Sparks retrospectively. You can dabble in various periods and phases and not feel much of an attachment to any one particular Mael sound. Hibbert seems to miss the Sparks of "Amateur Hour" and "This Town Ain't Bit Enough for the Both of Us" but their ambitions are way past that point. Cluttered, sure, but Ron and Russell Mael were never exactly minimalists and something like "Change" is all the better for being loaded with ideas. Perhaps knowing that their days as serious chart contenders were up, they throw together some sweet European synth-pop together with a bit of mid-eighties production and even a tasteful guitar solo. It's now thirty-five years on and they just keep changing. All hail Sparks.
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