Review Summary: With apologies to Hunter S. Thompson.
I was lost in a large record emporium on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. My eyes crossed and I was facing a copy of a rap album by
Ramones bassist
Dee Dee Ramone, who had christened himself with the alternative moniker "Dee Dee King", as if to forge a connection with
B.B. King, and delivered his monotone and badly written poems in a manner more closely reminiscent of
David Tanny than
Rakim.
I remembered that this man was supposed to be sober during the recording, and thought, if "Mashed Potato Time" is what a sane man records with zero drug influence, then why do people want to rehabilitate drug users? Some poor fool had Dee Dee Ramone rap badly over a '50s doo-wop hit, as a kind of demented counterpoint to the rap by the white man in the leather jacket proclaiming himself to be the master of hip-hop. Listening to this song from the perspective of a punk/rap fan is like drinking ether; you actually watch your genres behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it.
"2 Much 2 Drink" indicated that the sobriety had clearly provided a negative influence on this man's life, as he has been reduced to performing a sub-Beasties rap-rock about getting writer's block, going to a bar, and being offered booze by the goddamned Devil. As if the high was getting better, the performance quality shifted and Dee Dee was playing actual rock songs: "Baby Doll", "Poor Little Rich Girl"...these weren't exactly terrific, but when your expectations are lowered to the gutter, scraps from the trash become royal feasts. Of these two, I liked "Baby Doll". Not
better, because I didn't really care for "Poor Little Rich Girl".
Then the trip got bad again and Dee Dee started rapping about surfing and mermaids. I don't expect much commotion in this ocean. Dee Dee said that he learned the lesson that he was not a fish. I wondered why it took him this long to figure this out, considering the lack of gills, two legs and ability to play bass guitar? Dee Dee then began rapping in German, accompanied by Debbie Harry, not realizing that rapping in another language doesn't improve your vocal performance.
Things get a little more exciting in parts of "The Crusher", the parts where Dee Dee sang in a punk style, but the rapped verses left the same numbing effect as usual. Then the bastard concluded with a rap song. It's one thing to listen to punk, like the
Ramones. It's one thing to listen to rap, like Run-D.M.C. It's one thing to listen to the two combined, like the
Beastie Boys, but nobody can handle that other trip -- the possibility that the Ramones' bassist can walk into the studio and suddenly transform into Dee Dee King, howling anything that comes into his head. Rap is not a good genre for psychedelic drugs. Reality itself is too twisted.
