Ramones: Acid Eaters

by James Greene, Jr. • May 26, 2009

Ramones
Acid Eaters
(Radioactive, 1993)

You can knock the Ramones for a number of things (lying about being brothers, letting Dee Dee quit, inspiring Rancid), but what you can't deny punk rock's most revered foursome is their ability to execute excellent covers. Da Bruddahs, as no one has liked to call them since 1992, were pretty sharp when it came to picking other artist's songs to feed into their giant, leather-jacketed meat grinder. They transformed dippy beach anthem "California Sun" into a crushing wave of rock, made "Palisades Park" a moshable delight, and re-imagined "I Don't Want to Grow Up" as the leanest slice of alienation this side of Paul Westerberg. Oh, and that version of the "Spider-Man" theme at the end of ¡Adios Amigos! is without question humankind's greatest accomplishment of the 1990s. So the question remains: Why is Acid Eaters, the all-covers album the Ramones released in 1993, so bleh, for lack of a better term?

Well, for starters, Johnny Ramone decided to pay homage to the period covered on Acid Eaters (1966-1968, roughly) by swapping out his trademark overdriven guitar-to-amp roar for a thinner, Mudhoney-style fuzz tone. I'm not sure exactly what type of pedal Johnny was playing through—a Super Wild Muff Driver, a Fat Back Fuzz Bitch, or a Sweaty Ape Nut Screamer—but that Long Island-born motherfucker was playing through something, and it significantly weakened the sonic structure of America's favorite Queens-bred freak quartet. On top of that, then-still-relatively-new bassist C.J. was handed lead vocal reigns on an unprecedented three cuts. He even helms the album's opener, a rollicking take of that Nugey classic "Journey to the Center of the Mind" (Ted must have suggested that one to Johnny when they crossed paths at the NRA meeting). Look, I think C.J. was a great Ramone, but busting out of the gate with him on vox is both disorienting and confusing. Is this a Ramones album or the debut from C.J. Ward and His Funkified Forest Hills Punk Rocker Crew? Come on, Ramones. You confusa da people.

These elements have sullied Acid Eaters in many a true fan's mind, but if you can look past these goofs, you'll find a pretty solid offering. I'd like to single out Joey Ramone as the MVP of this record—the gooey, yelping vocalist elevates a number of otherwise pedestrian tracks here with his impassioned and unforgettable presence. The way Joey's voice careens through the Jefferson Airplane classic "Somebody to Love" is delightful from any angle. The boy's pain is ever so palpable on that Seeds hit "Can't Seem to Make You Mine", dripping out of your speakers and enveloping your feet in a warm, lovesick rubber byproduct. Of course, we all know now that when it came to heartache, Joey Jo Jo Junior Shabadoo was singing from experience (I don't know if I'm going to slap Johnny or kiss 'em when I get to Heaven, which is obviously where all the dead Ramones are). Despite his reputation for sounding like a vomiting bullfrog live and in concert around this time, Joey Ramone could generally be counted on to make magic in the studio until the (extremely) bitter end. Modern science will be working for years to unlock the secret of that gold-hearted six-foot monster's Aunt Jemima-approved voice.

Per the sum being greater than the individual parts, there are moments on Acid Eaters where the 'Mones (another nickname I bought wholesale from Mark Prindle) are firing on all cylinders like Doc Gooden in his prime. Their smiling musical mock on the Rolling Stones tune "Out of Time" is a flawless victory; "7 and 7 Is", originally by Love, speeds dangerously down an ongoing drum roll (+10 for Marky) until it literally smashes into a wonderful lo-fi, hi-snot version of the Dylan classic "My Back Pages." Only in the latter do you really hear the piss and vinegar that propelled this group of Noo Yawk miscreants to stop sniffing glue for five minutes and kick off a musical revolution. Ironically, the melodic guitar solo in "My Back Pages" (undoubtedly played by a Ramone-for-hire like Ed Stasium or Daniel Rey or Walter Lure or Johnny Thunders, even though he died about two years before Acid Eaters was made) is probably the best part. A guitar solo the best part of a Ramones song? That's like a graphic sex scene being the best part of The Golden Girls!

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Crawdaddy! was founded by Paul Williams in 1966 and was the first U.S. magazine of rock criticism. John Lennon, Cameron Crowe, P.J. O'Rourke and many others have contirubted to its pages, and it is currently owned by Wolfgang's Vault, home to the legendary rock promoter Bill Graham's archive.