In a new interview with Otis Gibbs, Kevin Kinney, known professionally as Kevn Kinney, best known as lead singer and guitarist of rock band Drivin N Cryin, shares (as transcribed by CAPITAL CHAOS TV) I met Johnny Ramone trading baseball cards. I had a baseball card collection, and this friend of mine said, “You know the guitar player for the Ramones collects baseball cards?” I said, “No way.” He said, “Yeah, he wants you to come to Lake Geneva. Can you come to the show in Lake Geneva?”
My friend Bobby Braybat, who was doing merch with us and worked for Nice Man, introduced us. I got to know Johnny really well. I sold him baseball cards, and then we became friends—like pen pals. He would write letters, send Christmas cards, and call me when he came to Atlanta after I moved there.
Backstage, they had practice amps, and Johnny would interview me about the show afterward. He’d ask, “How was the sound? How were Joey’s vocals? Was it too loud? Did the kids like the new songs?” He really cared about that stuff.
One time, I went to see them somewhere—I don’t even remember where—but I was standing on the side of the stage next to Johnny. Usually, I stood with Arturo at the sound or lightboard. I was a huge fan. It was just nice not to be in the pit, because I’d done that many times.
Anyway, I remember to this day, the Ramones were playing in a theater, and I was over by Johnny. Joey was saying something on stage, and Johnny walked over to me. I thought he was going to say, “Hey, how you doing?” But instead, he goes, “Show’s out there.”
Johnny said it, not Joey. He meant, “You’re no use to me here. I’m going to ask you about how it sounded and everything, and you won’t know unless you’re out there.” That stuck with me.
Now, when people—fans, friends, or family—stand on the wings of the stage and then try to give comments after the show, I always think, “You didn’t even see the damn show, dude. You just heard the bass.” You didn’t hear the show. The show’s out there.
The Ramones only traveled in a 15-passenger van and stayed at Holiday Inns. That’s how they eventually made money. That’s how they wound up with a million dollars after years and years of doing it. They didn’t waste money on a bus. They didn’t live on a bus. Plus, they hated each other, which added a weird dynamic.
Between ’91 and ’93, we lost a lot of money trying to do the bus thing. When we toured with The Who, we had to get a bus. It was the last bus available—it was like something off a Disney lot. Total junk. There was something wrong with the exhaust, and it filled up with diesel fumes and black smoke. The first few shows on The Who tour, our bus would roll in and spit black smoke. We were so embarrassed pulling into the backstage area.
We looked like rednecks. Like, “Here come the Clampetts.” All we needed was a rocking chair on the roof. Even the Solo cups inside were full of soot.
Then we got Ronnie Milsap’s old bus—not sure if it was actually his, but man, that thing was disgusting. He’s blind, right? So I always wondered if anyone told him how filthy the bus was. Like, “Did you clean it?” “Yeah, it’s clean!” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, it’s beautiful in here!” Meanwhile, it was gross.
Anyway, the Johnny Ramone connection was interesting. Did we ever play shows with the Ramones? Yeah, a couple. But you don’t want to open for the Ramones. Nobody does.
The first time we opened for them was in Atlanta—might have been the Roxy. They actually gave us a booklet: “How to Open for the Ramones.” It included rules like:
- Don’t put your foot on the monitor.
- Don’t play any covers they’re going to do.
- Don’t play any Ramones songs, obviously.
Their road manager, Monte Melnick, was an acquaintance of mine. Great guy. He played in a Sabbath-y metal band back in the late ’60s. Last time I saw him was at Café W a couple years ago when I played there. He came and sat with me, helped me out.
So, yeah—no foot on the monitor because that’s Joey’s move. And basically, don’t mess with their setup or their vibe. Just stay out of their way.
You don’t want to compete with the Ramones. No one can out-Ramone the Ramones—maybe the Germs or The Dickies. I saw The Dickies get away with it. They were great. The Runaways, too, kind of cool. But your average local rock band? They’ll eat you alive.
By the ’80s, I don’t think they even brought touring openers anymore. I was just glad I had a front-row seat to witness it. I didn’t know they wouldn’t live long, you know? I was lucky to be part of that fan base.
I was Johnny’s friend, but mostly in a regional way. He had different versions of “me” in different cities—people he could hang with. He’d call me when he came to town, and we’d drive up to Jimmy Carter Boulevard to look for baseball cards or movie posters.
They toured like Elvis used to. No food backstage—fans would bring them potlucks. The Ramones had that same kind of underground support system.
When our band started getting bigger, Joey said, “Yeah, I just saw your video the other day. I didn’t know you were in a band. That Fly Me Outrageous—I really liked that. I saw it in Interview magazine.” That was Joey. Just casual. “Whatever.”
I remember after our Smoke record came out, they were doing their Adios Amigos tour—maybe around then—and they played Winston-Salem, at this little place called Ziggy’s. I went backstage after the show. Everyone was sweaty and tired. I remember Johnny asked, “So, how’s the record?” I said, “You know, didn’t do as well as the last one.” And he just goes, “No push.” Like, he got it. He knew what that meant.
They never fit on the radio. They needed their own station. They were an enigma. I’m a huge Ramones fan—between Sabbath and the Ramones, that’s my foundation. Throw in The Archies, The Monkees, Robin Trower—that’s my musical mirror.
We got certified gold at some point. The only reason I have that plaque up is because it’s got a cassette in it. In ’91, before SoundScan, we sold a lot of records through clubs—those 10-records-for-a-penny deals. They were basically official bootlegs. Not Island Records pressings. The covers looked like photocopies. But we moved units.
Kids would sign up, get 10 records, then have to buy more or send them back. Most of us wound up owing money. Still, we sold a lot. Probably more than people realize. SoundScan didn’t catch it all.
Fly Me didn’t even come out on vinyl in the U.S., only Europe. That was weird too.
Were we getting by? Yeah. I think I was making maybe $700 a week? Or around $3,000 a month? We were probably on some kind of management salary. But the expenses just ballooned—buses, hotels, trucks. You’re bleeding money. And when you start leveling off or going down, it’s hard to adjust. You get used to a certain lifestyle. That’s when it hits.
Categories: Interviews, Kevn Kinney, News
Capital Chaos TV 
Leave a comment