ohnny Ramone, the stone-faced guitarist of the punk band the Ramones, whose fast, buzz-saw blasts of noise laid the foundation for a school of rock guitar, died on Wednesday afternoon at his home in Los Angeles. He was 55.
The cause was prostate cancer, said Arturo Vega, the band's longtime artistic director and spokesman.
Mr. Ramone, born John Cummings, is the third member of the Ramones to die in a little over three years, following Joey (Jeffrey Hyman), the singer, who died of cancer in April 2001; and Dee Dee (Douglas Colvin), the bassist, who died of an apparent drug overdose in June 2002. Of the original band, only Tommy (Tom Erdelyi), the drummer, survives.
By stripping rock guitar of its ornamentation and playing almost every note in a violent, accelerated downstroke, Mr. Ramone helped create the punk sound. His style - fast, repetitive and aggressive, though always tuneful - influenced, directly or indirectly, almost every punk guitarist since, from the Sex Pistols' Steve Jones and the Clash's Joe Strummer to Nirvana's Kurt Cobain and contemporary players like Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day and Tom DeLonge of Blink-182.
"They influenced so many people," Eddie Vedder, the lead singer of Pearl Jam, said yesterday. Mr. Vedder introduced the Ramones when they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002. "They showed them that they too could do it. The simplicity showed them that they could end up on stage and play in that way."
The Ramones often cited as inspirations the hard rock of the Stooges and the primal power of the MC5, as well as the 1960's girl-group productions of Phil Spector, which they considered paragons of melody and brevity. But the band's sound had scant precedent when its first album was released in 1976. The songs were head-spinningly short and fast - the shortest, "Judy Is a Punk," was just 1 minute 32 seconds - and had a raw elegance that made many, like "Blitzkrieg Bop," "Beat on the Brat" and "I Wanna Be Sedated," punk-rock standards.
Mr. Ramone once described his guitar style as "pure, white rock 'n' roll, with no blues influence."
"I wanted our sound to be as original as possible,'' he said. "I stopped listening to everything."
Seldom lightening the scowl on his face, Mr. Ramone performed with a determination that mirrored his place in the band. Each member had a clearly defined role, musical and otherwise, and Johnny's was the taskmaster. He conducted the band's business affairs and led the group in details ranging from its sound to its mode of dress: in leather jackets, ripped jeans and scruffy sneakers, the band always presented a unified visual front of a punk army in uniform.
"He was the leader of the band," Danny Fields, the group's first manager, said. "He was the boss and you worked for him. He was very demanding, but very right."
After years holding a construction job - he tried college, but dropped out in a matter of days - Mr. Ramone formed the group in 1974 in Forest Hills, Queens, with Mr. Hyman, Mr. Colvin and Mr. Erdelyi. In the late 1960's he played bass in the Tangerine Puppets, a garage-rock band, but switched instruments early in 1974 when he bought a $50 Mosrite guitar on a trip to Manny's Music shop, on West 48th Street in Manhattan.
The new group took its name from a pseudonym that Paul McCartney had used while on the road with the Beatles, and began playing regular gigs at a Bowery dive called CBGB. A Ramones set rarely lasted more than 30 minutes, and the tunes were strung together in rapid succession. Their plan was to pause between songs just long enough for a member, usually Dee Dee, to shout "One-Two-Three-Four!" But in the early days that time was often spent bickering onstage about which song to play.
Their experience was from the start a mixture of success and frustration. When the Ramones first played in London, on July 4, 1976, they were met by adoring crowds, and were approached with fear and admiration by members of the Sex Pistols, the Clash and the Damned, all founding groups of the fruitful British punk scene. But when the Ramones returned home to New York they had trouble booking shows in Connecticut and New Jersey. In the band's early years, its members all crammed into Mr. Vega's loft space.
Though the band never had a major hit, it persisted for 22 years and more than a dozen studio albums, including its first record, "Ramones" (1976); "Leave Home" (1977); "Rocket to Russia" (1977); "End of the Century" (1980), recorded with Mr. Spector; and "Adios Amigos'' (1995), its last. Through the years the band kept a grueling touring schedule, and when on the road, Mr. Ramone carefully kept track of details from each concert. The band played its final gig, No. 2,263, on Aug. 6, 1996, at the Palace in Los Angeles.
That theater, now called the Avalon, was the site of a 30th-anniversary tribute to the Ramones on Sunday, with a roster that included Rob Zombie, Henry Rollins, X, Mr. Vedder and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It was, Mr. Vega said, "a veiled tribute to Johnny," and at the show Rob Zombie called Mr. Ramone from the stage so that the crowd could shout "Hey ho, let's go!," the band's rallying cry and the first words of its most famous song, "Blitzkrieg Bop."
Another anniversary concert is planned for New York on Oct. 8, which is the birthday of both Johnny and C. J. Ramone (Christopher John Ward), the bassist who replaced Dee Dee in 1989. The concert is booked at Spirit on West 27th Street in Chelsea, and is to feature Blondie and the Strokes, Mr. Vega said.
Mr. Fields, the group's first manager, said that after the band broke up Mr. Ramone did not work again. "Johnny's goal was to retire," he said. "All he wanted to do was to be able to stop working. He was proud of what he did, but he still wanted to stop. People would ask him, 'What are you going to do when there's no more band?' And he would say, 'Watch baseball and horror movies.' "
For much of the last year Mr. Ramone had been working on his memoirs with Steve Miller, a reporter for The Washington Times. Mr. Miller said yesterday that their interviews were complete.
Mr. Ramone was often at odds with the members of his band, over dress, politics and relationships. A staunch Republican, Mr. Ramone clashed with Joey over that singer's liberal causes, and when the band was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Mr. Ramone said, "God bless President Bush, and God bless America."
After Mr. Ramone began dating a woman who had been seeing Joey, the two men stopped talking to each other. On their tour bus, they kept silent company, often passing messages back and forth through an intermediary. Johnny Ramone later married the woman, now Linda Cummings, who survives him, along with his mother, Estelle Cummings.
Mr. Ramone's silence toward Joey continued even to his band mate's death. Interviewed in his home for the new documentary "End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones,'' surrounded by horror-movie posters from his extensive collection, Mr. Ramone was unflinching in his refusal to reconcile with Joey.
"I'm only going to be the way I'd want someone to react to me," he said in the film. "If I didn't like someone, I wouldn't want him calling me up when I was dying. I wouldn't want them having regrets that they didn't talk to me. I'm happy that they didn't talk to me. If I'm gone, that's how it goes."
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