Ramonas – a tribute band worth seeing.

Never before has a woman brandishing a rolling pin made my heart jump.


The Ramonas, an all-female, London based and cleverly named Ramones tribute band, played their Aberdeen debut on Friday the 7th. The supporting band was a favourite of mine, and all my friends were going to be there. So that’s who I found myself paying £5 to see last weekend.

Before I say anything, I should make a confession: I have never actually listened to the Ramones, apart from whatever songs ended up as film soundtracks or adverts. So, I’m perfectly qualified to review their all-female cover band…

The old boys..

Venue of choice, The Moorings, has been my local for far too long. As a teetotal fresher, the bars massive discounts rapidly lowered my standards and emptied my pockets.

Five years on, I am now unable to comment on the venue or clientele, because they all know where I live. I can say this though: if you like rock music in its many many forms, and you like drinking, you can’t really go wrong with this place.

The allure of classic tunes from classy ladies had brought out the bars finest, and the dual-hawks and inked flesh were a sight to see. Local legends Eaten by Crows got everyone warmed up with oi punk epics about bubblewrap. Blood must have been pumping as a spontaneous human pyramid appeared about halfway through the set. Don’t ask me why, but I think the band appreciated it. EbC are worth the door tax themselves, but I’m not reviewing them.

Amateur gymnastics out of the way, the crowd settled down for the main act. The much anticipated and authentically coiffed women took to the stage, and, with a scream, launched into- a song. Some kind of song. Yes.

My fucking abysmal knowledge of these iconic tunes definitely affected my ability to judge their representation of the American foursome. But, if my Ramones fan of a friend’s sudden change from cheerful stoner to pint sloshing one man moshpit was anything to go by, they were solid gold.

Ramonas – less hair but as much style.

Growling and gyrating, the lead brandished a rolling pin at the crowd, giving my heart a flutter every time our eyes met (she was looking at me, I just know it). The drummer’s gurning was a thing to behold, and bass and guitar brought something unique to the set by jumping about sporadically, always flawlessly out of time with each other. Physically, not musically.

The playing was seamless, and even my heavily sarcastic and indignantly drunk brain succumbed to the charged atmosphere. Caught up by the Ramonas’ infectious energy, I was crashing into the aforementioned friend before the fourth song. The crowd was jumping, and the front row was screaming along with the singer now riding her mic stand.

I was lost to the music right up until the point where I realised that it all sounded the same to me. My cider soaked brain could take no more, and I escaped outside for a ciggy. The smokers were divided in their opinions of the band, and it was a pretty obvious rift. The nay sayers were easily identified by their monotone ‘yeah, well the Ramones aren’t all that’ and other similar cries. Right. Of course, folks, and that’s why you paid in tonight anyway.

Meanwhile, supporters of America’s first (arguably, but I’m avoiding that box of vipers) mainstream punk group were paralysed by their fangasms. Personally, I’ve decided that the Ramones will be on my probably-should-listen-to-one-day list, which is a few notches higher than my previous rating. So, to conclude, if you like the Ramones, you’ll love the Ramonas and their awesome spin on the music that influenced generations. Go see them.

Tour dates here.