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It's the story of a 14-year-old boy in love with music, who spends his afternoons (as Alex Drastico used to say: "absolute afternoons, where I don't do a damn thing") spinning his vinyls around on the turntable, painstakingly acquired as gifts on various occasions. "Making Movies" by Dire Straits, "La Voce Del Padrone" by Franco Battiato, "Abacab" by Genesis, "Rio" by Duran Duran... (which I still keep as sacred relics) were the world I managed to immerse myself in, dreaming of magical places and movie-like stories, all comfortably seated on the couch of that home's living room, with headphones on when someone was around or at full volume when solitude allowed it.
But the summer of 1985 would be really important.
An "older" friend by a few years had crafted "series" cassettes with personalized covers drawn for each recipient. One was particularly interesting, marked with the word "punk" highlighted in yellow and featuring a drawing of a strange character picking his nose among safety pins stuck on his cheeks and a colored mohawk that looked like an exploding brain... Beppe (Gubbio to his friends) was truly a gifted "artist." My ears weren't even remotely prepared for everything that tape contained; those electric discharges coming from the "punk" cassette were for me a strange furious and angry melody, screaming directly into my brain the existence of something else, which seemed to perfectly paint the fire I felt growing in my stomach. Among the (unknown to me) exotic and fascinating names handwritten on the leaflet/cover, such as Sex Pistols, The Clash, Damned, UK Subs, Johnny Thunders, Sid Vicious... one musically struck me literally on the road to Damascus... Ramones. The attitude their music exudes, serious yet light-hearted at the same time, is the one I identify with the most. Their anthems, "Hey Ho Let's Go", "Gabba Gabba Hey", "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue" speak to me of a fantastic world, inhabited by characters on the brink between reality and comics, outlaws of fun... and immediately I feel the need to get in touch with them, a head-on collision with everything that was possible to know about them. I wander around the record store in my town, but it seems like I'm talking about aliens... the bewilderment petrifies me... desperately, I search endlessly and with little luck for news, photos, other audio material. But the painful turning point is around the corner. Beppe decides to sell me all his Ramones records to buy the "filling for syringes" which was very fashionable in those years, so within just over a month, I find myself from a handful of flies I'm dangling in the record store to the entire discography of my new heroes, in original vinyl, from the self-titled debut to the shabby "Subterranean Jungle" from the previous year. Astonished I am, without stunning Beppe. Sometime later, I drop by the usual store, and the owner calls me to the counter and shows me "Too Tough To Die" saying he had it delivered specially for me, and I don't hesitate to spend almost everything I have in my pocket to take it home with its other siblings. It was my first Ramones record, bought new and still packaged. Certainly, I didn't expect much from the listen, given the band's recent tired performances... but instead... BANG. A spectacular return to the fire of the past, with sounds closer to "modern" hardcore and a speed that had increased exponentially under the crazy guidance of the "One Two Three Man", bassist Dee Dee; so "Wart Hog" and "Endless Vacation" immediately became two of my favorites, on par with "53rd & 3rd" or live versions of "Today Your Love, Tomorrow The World", "Chainsaw", and "Havana Affair".
In the following years, I would attend their concerts 5 times, each time with the reverence and love a faithful can dedicate who makes a pilgrimage to the Vatican on Angelus Sunday or a believer who goes to Mecca to purify themselves of everything. And devoted to the memory of Joey and Johnny, Dee Dee and his protégé C.J., Tommy, Marky, and Ritchie... I still am, so I suffer when I read about them, in any way they are talked about. They were, are, and will forever be my second family.
A heartfelt thanks to Beppe for introducing me to them when I needed them, but especially for still being alive.
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