Wayne Kramer used to tell a remarkable story about the first time he realised how influential his music had become. It was 1976, and he read an article in Billboard magazine about the Ramones and the burgeoning New York punk scene, which “kept saying that these kind of bands were inspired by the MC5”. Kramer was so horrified, he tore the magazine up and flushed it down the nearest toilet.
He was in a federal prison in Kentucky, serving a four-year sentence for drug offences and, as he put it, “from where I was sat, ‘punk’ did not have a good ring to it”. “In jail, a punk is somebody that they knock down and make their girlfriend, you know: ‘I’m gonna make you my punk’,” he recalled. “That kind of talk could get you killed, right?”
This is a narrative that reveals a lot about the significance of the MC5 and the unfortunate obstacles they faced in their career. Their three albums released between 1969 and 1971 were considered essential for budding punk bands and had a lasting impact on rock music. When Kramer brought together the three surviving members of the MC5 in the 21st century, he was inundated with requests from musicians eager to step in for their deceased bassist Rob Tyner and vocalist Fred “Sonic” Smith. Notable names such as Lemmy, Don Was, Ian Astbury from the Cult, and Dave Vanian from the Damned all took part, along with members from Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Fugazi, Guns N’ Roses, Faith No More, Pearl Jam, and progressive metal pioneers King’s X.
Despite the undeniable talent displayed in their albums, the MC5’s career was plagued by numerous challenges. These included overhyped expectations, lackluster sales, conflicts with record labels, retailers, and concert promoters, as well as struggles with substance abuse. By the time the band disbanded, Kramer was left destitute and addicted to heroin. He resorted to criminal activities and drug dealing, eventually leading to his imprisonment.
The band faced several issues due to their radical political views, which they may not have truly believed in. According to Kramer, they only associated with political activist John Sinclair, who became their manager, because they saw the potential popularity of the hippie movement. They believed that if they could win over the main figure of the hippie culture, they would gain a following among hippies. However, their own political beliefs were shallow, as they simply did not want to have traditional jobs and responsibilities.
However, although their dedication to actually overthrowing The Man may have been questionable, the MC5’s music was indisputable. Kramer often recalls his first concert being Del Shannon performing at a Detroit drag strip, believing that rock’n’roll and the sound of drag racers were similar in their loudness and speed. This mindset heavily influenced his playing style, as seen on the MC5’s iconic debut album Kick Out the Jams, where Kramer’s guitar is chaotic, distorted, and biting. As one critic pointed out, it almost seems like he is aggressively attacking the guitar rather than playing it. Despite being labeled as a proto-punk musician, Kramer was much more complex and versatile than this classification suggests.
He was a devoted fan of jazz, tuned in to the groundbreaking developments happening in the music of John Coltrane and Sun Ra during the mid-1960s. While the MC5 initially presented themselves as a typical American garage rock band – their first single was a rendition of Them’s “I Can Only Give You Everything,” a popular choice for garage bands across the country – Kramer was already incorporating his love for free jazz into their sound. His playing on their second single, “Looking At You,” had an experimental quality and a sense of chaotic improvisation. The early MC5 often surprised audiences with their lengthy piece “Black to Comm,” which seamlessly blended a tough riff with free-form improvisation, in addition to playing covers such as “I’m a Man” and “Baby Please Don’t Go.”
When Kick Out the Jams was captured on tape at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit in December 1968, their music had evolved into a more intense and weighty style. The title track showcases one of the most iconic hard rock riffs of all time, while the heavy and murky I Want You Right Now has a grunge-like sound that seems ahead of its time by 20 years. However, the influence of free jazz can still be heard, particularly on the final track Starship, which is based on a poem by Sun Ra and features bursts of improvised noise.
The debut was exceptional and provocative, but faced obstacles due to disputes with retailers over the profanity “motherfucker” in the lyrics and John Sinclair’s liner notes. This ultimately led to their label dropping them. Additionally, the MC5’s relationship with the revolutionary themes in the album caused tension. Despite gaining recognition for playing at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, the band’s reputation was tarnished when they arrived at a 1969 New York gig in a limousine and were denounced as traitors by the radical hippy audience. This resulted in a riot and equipment being destroyed, leading to the band being blacklisted by promoter Bill Graham.
Upon the release of their second album, Back in the USA in 1970, the band was no longer affiliated with Sinclair’s White Panther party due to their “counter-revolutionary ideals.” It seemed that the band members were relieved by this, as they had used part of their advance from their new label Atlantic to buy sports cars. The album featured shorter songs, less improvisation, and a few old rock’n’roll covers in an attempt to make the band more accessible. While some of the material, such as Shakin’ Street, Tonight, and Let Me Try, was great and Kramer’s guitar playing was fantastic on The Human Being Lawnmower, the production quality was abysmal. The result was a tinny, weak sound that made it seem like the music was coming from a small transistor radio.
The next edition of High Time showed significant improvement. Kramer frequently expressed his belief that it was the MC5’s greatest album; without a doubt, it had the widest range, blending intense rock’n’roll like “Sister Anne” with chaotic experimentation – the final track “Skunk (Sonically Speaking)” was their most jazz-inspired piece yet, featuring a horn section. Additionally, Kramer’s “Miss X” served as an epic rock ballad that hinted at a potential new musical direction in the future.
However, it was later discovered that there was no promising future for the band. The album was not successful, the issues with drugs worsened, and the MC5 ultimately disbanded in 1972. Their final performance at the Grande Ballroom, which used to be a sold-out venue for their recording of “Kick Out the Jams,” only drew in a small crowd of a few dozen people. Kramer, feeling upset, left the stage before the end of the show.
Bypass the advertisement for the newsletter.
after newsletter promotion
Punk was expected to revive Wayne Kramer’s career, but it did not quite have the desired effect. Kramer often mentioned that his time in prison had a positive impact on his guitar skills as he met jazz trumpeter and former Charlie Parker band member Red Rodney, who taught him improvisation while they were both incarcerated. He also played a significant role in Was (Not Was)’s self-titled debut album in 1981, with his guitar adding a magnificent touch to tracks like “Wheel Me Out” and “Tell Me I’m Dreaming,” but he was still struggling with drug addiction. In these circumstances, teaming up with rock’s notorious drug addict Johnny Thunders was not the best decision: while some appreciate the raw live recordings of their band Gang War, their cover of Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come,” featuring Kramer on vocals, is genuinely impressive and filled with a bittersweet power. Unfortunately, their collaboration fell apart before they could record any original songs.
During the 1980s, Kramer primarily worked as a carpenter and only played music sporadically. However, his solo career gained momentum with the release of The Hard Stuff in 1995, the first of several impressive but underrated albums he recorded for punk label Epitaph. These albums showcased a more straightforward style of hard rock compared to the MC5’s peak, but the songs were still powerful and the lyrics fearlessly delved into themes of addiction. Songs like “Junkie Romance” and “It’s Never Enough” from the 1996 album Dangerous Madness exemplify this. One of his best albums, Citizen Wayne, was released in 1997 and was produced by Don Was. It featured an autobiographical suite of songs that pushed Kramer out of his comfort zone and into more experimental electronic territory. This risky move paid off with songs like “Dope For Democracy” and “Count Time” standing out as unique and idiosyncratic tracks.
During the majority of the 21st century, he was mainly focused on participating in well-received MC5 reunion events and advocating for causes. He became actively involved in charitable organizations addressing drug addiction and served as the face of the American division of Billy Bragg’s Jail Guitar Doors, which aimed to rehabilitate prisoners through music. He also wrote a candid autobiography and, motivated by the Trump administration, began working on a new MC5 album.
He seemed to not care about the band’s legacy, often criticizing their albums (he even said their album Kick Out the Jams was not their best performance) and disregarding the influence they had on future music. He believed that most of the music inspired by the band lacked their experimental side, and that he could find more originality in hip-hop. However, it was evident that Wayne Kramer was aware of the immense impact of the MC5 and that their music would always be a motivating force for those interested in creating loud, daring, and rebellious but uplifting rock’n’roll, despite his personal opinions on their output.
In an interview in 2022, he stated that the band symbolized boundless potential and energy. They focused on taking action and making things happen, rather than simply discussing or contemplating them.
Source: theguardian.com
