The Ramones’ Subterranean Jungle (released 2/23/83) begs the question of whether this is the album that signals the punk icons’ awareness of the passage of time and, more specifically, the fact they are aging.
It’s certainly dangerous to (over) intellectualize the work of the seminal punk band. The fact of the matter is, though, that the quartet (almost) always worked with a purpose: whether it was providing an alternative to the bloated pretension of prog-rock in their earliest days or further commenting on their own status as punk flag-bearers on later albums, the belied their dumbed-down persona.
By the time of their seventh studio effort, now four decades old, the group who named themselves after Paul McCartney’s early alias camouflaged and broadened the cultural observations beyond those of their earliest songs. Still, the first cut somewhat calls into question their ostensible return to straight punk after two albums of pop-oriented production designed to garner the group a wider audience; like another of the three covers here, the Chambers Brothers’ “Time Has Come Today,” “Little Bit O’Soul,” was a 1967 hit (by the Music Explosion).
Still, the third non-original on the record, “I Need Your Love,” sounds like vintage Ramones with its frenetic guitar to metronomic drumbeats and shouted vocals. The first of six numbers written (at least in part) by Dee Dee, “Outsider” then features the author sharing lead vocal chores with ‘brother’ Joey; unfortunately, the bassist’s monochromatic voice only renders anonymous a tune that’s otherwise squarely in this group’s psychic wheelhouse (it was interpreted by Green Day in 2002).
The less-than-memorable effect is even more striking when his bandmate assumes his usual duties in full on “What’d Ya Do.” Perhaps not coincidentally, this marks the very point Subterranean Jungle begins to gain traction. The momentum continues to build, at an ever higher velocity through “Psycho Therapy,” in part because the tracks remain short and to the point: only four of the dozen tracks hit or exceed three minutes in duration.
“Time Bomb” is nothing if not autobiographical as well as vintage Ramones style-wise. Nevertheless, it lacks the cacophonous kamikaze drive of the earliest recordings. Not that the group didn’t retain their inimitable hellbent spark: the 2002 expanded edition of this LP contains seven bonus cuts with virtually all the familiar verve on full display. Yet the omissions imply a misproduction by Ritchie Cordell, whose presence in that role was only the most obvious indication of the internal strife afflicting the foursome around that time.
Certainly the closing of the official thirty-three minutes plus, “Every time I Eat Vegetables I Think Of You,” is more indicative of discord than introspection. But the Ramones found themselves struggling, and at least partially failing, in their efforts to deal with issues of their own at this point. Still, the quartet strove valiantly to handle the internal conflict(s) with all aplomb they displayed in other respects on, for instance, the prophetically-titled Road to Ruin of five years earlier or the Phil Spector-supervised End of the Century out at the very start of the next decade.
Around the time of Subterranean Jungle‘s now forty-year-old release, Marky (who had replaced original drummer Tommy) was ousted from the band after five albums (he would return four years later and stay through the Ramones’ retirement in 1996). The matters at hand around the time Subterranean Jungle came out were clearly of greater significance and complexity than those upon which Joey opined during an outtake called “New Girl In Town,” included on the reissue: ‘… let me show you what the rock and roll kids do…’
It’s an almost half-hearted boast indicative of the emotional detachment that pervades Subterranean Jungle. Still, as is the case with the best of the Ramones, the hindsight we now have suggests more meaning to the LP’s title than first perusal may allow.
One Response
Always loved this album, nice write up Doug.