Music is Life: Making Up a Word to Describe The Ramones

I was the music writer for the Colorado Daily, CU’s on-campus newspaper, in 1982 and 1983. Such was my excitement about seeing The Ramones at Denver’s Rainbow Music Hall on May 9, 1983 that I opted to make up a new word to describe the band. Here is that column exactly as it appeared: warts, youthful energy and all. My editor ran the piece with the headline “Lech (but not Walesa).”

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Lech (lek) n. 1. The cheesy substance found between the touch-hole and the bollocks. Also referred to as smeg. 2. A Polish name or phrase of endearment i.e. He is as great of a lech as there is in all of Warsaw.

The Ramones are definitive lech-rock, from the tops of their bowl-cut heads to the tips of their used Converse All-Stars. Both Barry Fey and his security honchos are known to have a strong dislike for lech, so Monday night’s Ramones show at the Rainbow Music Hall may be the last time area lechers (not to be confused with lepers) have a chance to lech out in the Front Range region without fear of arrest.

At its core, all of the finest rock’n’roll is lech, clumsily woven music spun into joyful patterns of youthful rebellion. The Ramones are, in this sense, lech-rock taken to its natural extremes. Who needs the standard verse-chorus-bridge-chorus song style, or even minor chords for that matter? The Ramones say it all in under two minutes, with all the musicianship of a bound and gagged pianist.

Hailing from Queens and claiming to be brothers (they’re not), The Ramones are that insightly lech spot in rock, that beacon from days gone by when the only thing a fledgling star needed was an out-of-tune guitar and an old copy of Roget’s Thesaurus for lyrics. The Sex Pistols knew what lech was all about–they harnessed The Ramones’ lobotomized energy into a self-destruct mode, and rode that wave all the way into disintegration. The Ramones, though, shrewdly avoid the more negative aspects of lech. They know, like the rest of us, that lech has to be emphasized incessantly in order to be truly effective.

Lech-rock can’t be avoided, although Bobby and Suzy Creamcheese might do their darndest to steer clear. Going to a Ramones show without any intention of sweating off a few pounds dancing is like going to a Mel Brooks film (the cinematic lech king) determined not to smile. The typical Ramones gig includes roughly thirty songs crammed into a seventy-five minute set, with little stage patter between tunes except the standard “1-2-3-4!!!” No meaningful social insight here; just all the lech you can lick at one sitting.

If rock’n’roll has degenerated into so much syntho-fluff, The Ramones are the sole American entity keeping the essence of lech alive. Combining its musical fury with a lyrical tongue-in-cheek geekiness, the band calls to mind when “My Generation” was played on the radio at five-minute intervals.

Some eight years after their formation, The Ramones are living proof that lech is a permanent part of life. As the Greek philosopher once said, “Lech never dies, it merely accumulates in ever-intolerable amounts.” The Ramones’ distinctive lechness is as vital now as it was in 1976, all the more so considering the current move away from kneejerk intensity. Meaning is allergic to lech–what’s important is escaping its grip without any fatal injuries.

Most of my friends (like the rest of the country) despise lech with a passion. Scorned as the herpes sore on popular music, lech’s infectious qualities and high-powered assault on the senses are viewed negatively by the in-the-closet public. However, despite warnings from my editor, my doctor and my karmic counselor, I and about 500 of my lechmates will shake the Rainbow to its foundations on Monday night.

So lechers, take out all those old speed capsules, clean up your leather, and prepare yourselves for an evening of some good ol’ American headbanging. To the uninitiated attending the show, remember that the key lies not in liking it, but in leching it. Gabba Gabba Hey!!!