Max's Kansas City Web Site

VILLAGE VOICE
SEPTEMBER 22, 2004

Angry boys play taps as the lights go down in Johnny's fatherland
by Donna Gaines

Johnny Ramone, 1948–2004

John Cummings went to military school; he was a construction worker, a nasty Queens hitter. He flirted with drugs and hippie regalia, but he knew that wasn't God's plan. Years later, in 2002, when his band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Johnny Ramone asked God to bless President Bush. If Joey was the heart and Dee Dee the soul of the Ramones, Johnny was the balls, the propellant for punk's most dysfunctional family, drilling through 22 years of hard touring, cross-addictions, personality crises, and bad breaks. In the recent documentary End of the Century, the feral guitarist comes off as a merciless taskmaster who browbeat his bandmates into a tight paramilitary organization. He stole Joey's girl, then refused to call his former bandmate in the hospital, even as the lead singer lay dying.

I first met Johnny in 1996, at the Empire Diner. The Ramones were retiring; Johnny was moving to Los Angeles—Adios Amigos. "When my friends found out I was being interviewed by the Voice, they made fun of me, 'You're gonna talk to that commie paper?' " Johnny smirked, pointing defiantly at his T-shirt, "Kill a Commie for Mommy." Interviewing Dee Dee or Joey could last all day, but Johnny was punctual, precise, no drama or mood swings. Professional. But Dee Dee and Joey gave you everything—all their blood, tears, pizza, truth, and love. They lived in the moment. In contrast, Johnny served up canned vegetables, scripted replies, like stale catechism. The street on Johnny has always been that he's a heartless prick. Dee Dee and Joey had no boundaries; Johnny had too many.

But something happened that day at the Empire. After we finished the interview, Johnny noticed my "Kill 'Em All" T-shirt. My dad was 82nd Division Army Airborne, I explained. Johnny's face opened up, like a little kid, smiling, animated, talking about how much he loved his father, how much he missed him. He showed me a photo, he talked about growing up as an only child, then signed an autograph for a fan—a nine-year-old-kid on dialysis.

Sometimes Johnny played his guitar till his fingers bled out, till the white instrument turned red. On Sunday, September 12, 2004, the remaining Ramones and their friends put on a 30th anniversary tribute concert in L.A. Johnny had been sick for a long time. Three days later, he died—his work was finished. Every Ramones fan has his or her own personal Ramone—sort of like a personal savior: Dee Dee's the outcast's outcast, a home for the displaced psyche. Joey's the patron saint of lonely kids even now; some say he's their only friend. Johnny's Army is all the angry fatherless boys, disposable heroes who work hard, fight wars, and never get anything. Johnny's their Captain; he'll never leave a soldier for dead, never betray the trust. He's the father Ramone.

Three Ramones killed-by-death in just over three years' time. First Joey from lymphoma, then Dee Dee from an overdose. Now Johnny from prostate cancer. The Ramones gave their fans hope; now our love will give them immortality.

Kane, a devout Mormon, was being followed around by a camera crew from the church for a documentary, A New York Doll, which detailed his
recovery from alcohol and drug abuse. Photographer Bob Gruen, a close friend of the band's, said that, because of the band's current comeback, Arthur died "with a smile on his face."

David Johansen released this statement regarding his former bandmate: “During rehearsal and the shows I was blessed to work with the Arthur I first met and loved 30 years ago. The reunion was a source of great happiness for him, and the dynamic between [guitarist] Sylvain, Arthur and myself was brimming with unimaginable love. It’s good to know that he went out on a high point in his musical life, but he will be sorely missed. His bass playing and presence were the heart & soul of the New York Dolls and the secret ingredient of our sound."

Previous Dolls members Johnny Thunders, Billy Murcia and Jerry Nolan had all previously died from drug-related
causes. A DVD of The New York Dolls' reunion show is in the works, despite the recent death of bassist Arthur Killer Kane, it was announced. (reprint)

They were replaced by a stand-in guitarist and the Libertines' Gary Powell on drums. Age had not been excessively unkind to two of the survivors, singer David Johansen, and guitarist Sylvain Sylvain. But bassist Arthur "Killer" Kane, had lost his hair and looked almost as if he had been sedated to get him on stage.

Even his erstwhile compatriots Johansen and Sylvain seemed surprised at the toll of the years, with the former asking the audience "Can you believe this is Killer Kane?"

Story from BBC NEWS: Click below to read the rest...

There wasn’t a lot going on in downtown Manhattan on August 23, 1970. It was a different world back then, before the Dolls or Television, before the Ramones made CBGB’s the place to go. Max’s Kansas City, an unlikely nightclub in one of the most unfashionable areas in the city, became the center of the artistic demi-monde, and thus a perfect fit for the Velvet Underground, many years removed from their apprenticeship with Andy Warhol, perhaps at the top of their game, but fast closing in on the end.

Indeed, it would prove to be Lou Reed’s last performance with the band he founded until the 1990’s. The Reed-less Velvets’ residency at Max’s lasted but a couple of weeks more.

Live at Max’s Kansas City, the album that documents the occasion, is
the punk prototype counterpoint to early live masterpieces by the
Who, the Dead and the Stones.

Originally released on Atlantic in 1972 (with a $3.98 list price), expanded versions have been widely available on bootleg over the years, but now Rhino has significantly — and officially — upgraded the original, adding extra tracks to complete the two sets from that night.

The expanded and re-mastered reissue, due August 3, adds seven more performances (all but one previously unreleased) to the original album’s 10 tracks, including perennials like "Sweet Jane" and "Femme Fatale," and also comes with new liner notes, and photos by Dustin Pittman, who shot many Velvet shows at Max’s.

The two discs include both sets from the evening in their entirety for the first time ever.

Max’s Kansas City – the joint where Andy Warhol and Mick Jagger preened, starving artists and tomorrow’s stars ran tabs and the Velvet Underground played a regular gig upstairs – is back in the form of a new documentary guided by Yvonne Sewall-Ruskin, ex-wife of late proprietor Mickey Ruskin. Predating Studio 54, the Mudd Club and Danceteria, Max’s ruled New York nightlife and shaped pop culture in a decade-long run from 1965 to 1974. Be Here Now! (working title) puts Max’s story in the context of the era’s social foment.

"Max’s was Mickey’s living room and every night he threw a party," Sewall-Ruskin says. "There’s a lot of history – everyone, from Warhol to Abbie Hoffman to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, came. It was like a private club before there was such a thing, and as a result it was a petri dish for amazing ideas. [Lou Reed’s] "Walk on the Wild Side" is basically about the back room at Max’s. Mickey catered to people who hadn’t been catered to before; he kicked out people who’d have carte blanche at most places and invited, say, some cross-dressing young junkie who would become central to the scene."

To capture her filmic vision, Sewall-Ruskin enlisted the help of director Sam Erickson who has directed feature docs on the Dave Matthews Band and Jon Bon Jovi, his ESP Pictures partners, cinematographer Jojo Pennebaker, son of legendary filmmaker D.A. Pennebaker, and producer Jesse Sheppard. With some 20 hours of interviews already in the can and big guns like Lou Reed, Larry Rivers and Bebe Buell yet to shoot, the filmmakers are sending out an appeal for archival footage and assembling a trailer to raise further financing. Erickson says music licensing costs will determine the final budget. Contact: Yvonne Sewall-Ruskin yvonne@maxskansascity.com