Wayne Kramer RIP

Today was going to be a guest post for the Monday long song but I've pushed that back to next week to pay tribute to the great Wayne Kramer who died on Friday aged 75, one of the twin guitarists from the legendary MC5. Back in the late 80s and early 90s The MC5's name was frequently thrown about in music press interviews by rock 'n' rollers and revolutionaries who wanted a slice of the Detroit five piece's reflected glory. At the time actually hearing The MC5 was more difficult. Their records were out of print and difficult to find second hand, CD re- issue culture was not yet a thing, nor was YouTube. I remember eventually finding a copy of the band's 1969 debut, Kick Out The Jams, an album that had its own high octane, high energy reputation, the band recorded live at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit. By this time the only MC5 songs I'd heard were Primal Scream's cover of Ramblin' Rose, that famous sample on those KLF singles and a couple of half remembered slices of late 60s proto- punk/ rock 'n' roll heard at indie nights in various clubs. Kick Out The Jams did not sound entirely like I thought it would and it took a while to get it and to love it. But on placing the stylus on the record there was no denying the power of the title track, (song two on the album, Ramblin' Rose blasting past first), vocalist Rob Tyner introducing the song with the line, 'right now... right now... right now it's time to... kick out the jams motherfuckers!' (Elektra Records had replaced the word 'motherfuckers' with 'brothers and sisters' on early releases- thankfully it's been restored).

Kick Out The Jams (Live at the Grande Ballroom)

Wayne and fellow guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith power into a furious two chord riff and Tyner screams his way through the first verse, 'Well I feel pretty good/ And I guess that I could get crazy now baby'. As the band piledrive through the song Tyner sings about his shirt being wet, the feeling of having a mic in his hand, the sound bouncing off the ceiling, 'wailing guitars and the crash of the drums/ make you want to keep rocking/ til the morning comes'. The MC5 were seen a political band- this song sounds like a call to arms and an attempt at starting a revolution in late 60s USA. The band's politics, Kramer later said, didn't always amount to much more than not wanting to get out of bed in the morning and get a proper job. The jams Wayne wanted to kick out weren't political ones but the endless boogie, the musical jams other groups at the Grande Ballroom indulged in. Over time, as a phrase, it became much more. 

Manager John Sinclair was a dedicated revolutionary and the group positioned themselves as such due to his leadership. Kramer's guitar playing is revolutionary, proto- punk riffing, with frantic, manic, distorted, howling lines, Fred Smith doubling up and firing off him. It's also inspired by the free jazz of John Coltrane and Sun Ra. It's hard rock in places and grunge in others. They did first what many others did later. 

Their second and third albums are steps on from the live energy of the debut- Back In The USA is snappy and instant, buzzsaw guitars and short urgent songs, although the compressed production makes it sound small and tinny. 1971's High Time is the one the band had most creative control over, and contains their best work. Sister Anne, Miss X and Over And Over are all uncompromising, the sound of 70s rock before it went soft. And this one is what so many guitar bands since them have wanted to sound like, Kramer and Smith's twin guitars squealing and riffing over pounding drums, as a horn section wails. It flopped. The MC5's career was dogged by crisis and bad luck, drug problems, jail for Sinclair, being tailed and under constant surveillance by the police and increasingly unable to tour or sell records. They split in 1972.

Skunk (Sonically Speaking)

After the band broke up Kramer became in his own words a small time Detroit criminal and ended up in prison. Punk failed to deliver him his dues. He moved to New York and formed a short lived band with Johnny Thunders and spent much of the 80s working as a carpenter. The surviving MC5 re- united in 1991 at a memorial and fundraiser for Rob Tyner and Wayne began to work in music again, recording as a solo artist and producing. The MC5 re- united at various points, once in Belfast after David Holmes got them to play there (he also got Kramer to play on an Unloved song). Kramer's work in the 21st century was as much social work as music, working with drug addiction charities and for the US branch of Billy Bragg's Jail Guitar Doors, a charity teaching prison inmates to play guitar and supporting them with musical equipment on release (The Clash's song that gave the charity its name has Mick Jones breathlessly singing, 'Let me tell you 'bout Wayne and his deals in cocaine/ A little more every day/ Holding for a friend til the band do well/ Then the D.A. locked him away... clang clang go the jail guitar doors'). Wayne Kramer, MC5, lived the life and was an activist and musician in a band who counted for something. That's more than enough I think. 

R.I.P. Wayne Kramer