Joey Ramone was perhaps the greatest frontman the world has ever known. He wasn’t confident and capable like Bowie, nimble and untamed like Iggy, articulate like John Lydon or as pretty as Jim Morrison – he certainly wasn’t that - but he was real. He was believable. He was the underdog, the loser, the dysfunctional weirdo.
In a world of preening pretenders and privileged prima donnas, ‘Joey Ramone’ was the carapace from under which all six feet three spindly inches of Jeffrey Ross Hyman peaked out, a man cursed with a posture like a praying mantis, tombstone teeth, bad eyesight and even worse health. He was 70% legs, but not necessarily in a good way.
