Mash Potato Time - Wednesday, May 14, 2025

The world would roar away

Potato Time

Never mind how it came up, but the other day, I had occasion to send this song to my bff Robert. It’s Dee Dee King’s “Mash Potato Time” from his 1989 album Standing in the Spotlight.

This song is crazy—delightfully ill-advised on just about every level, yet somehow communicates an earnestness and silliness that makes the whole thing compelling.

Dee Dee King was the stage name for Dee Dee Ramone, which was the stage name adopted by Douglas Glenn Colvin in the Ramones.

I assume we’re all familiar with the fact that each member of the Ramones—Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee, and Tommy, in the original line-up—took on the stage last name “Ramone.” This was a totally badass move, an idea that legendary music biz mover/shaker Danny Fields tried to push on the Stooges, e.g., Iggy Stooge, but that didn’t take until the Ramones. And it really took.

I’m curious how the wild turn in Dee Dee’s musical output reflected in this song—from punk bass player and songwriter to rapper—came about. Here’s what I know:

By the late 80s, after having invented punk rock and releasing 11 albums, many of which are stone-cold classics, the Ramones were still touring in a van, i.e., not luxuriously. The details of this next part are conjecture on my part, but I think the narrative is reasonably plausible. You see, David Johansen, front man of the protopunk/glam band the New York Dolls, and associate of Dee Dee’s, made quite a splash in ‘87 under the name Buster Poindexter with the novelty hit you know and love, “Hot Hot Hot.” Dee Dee knew David because the Dolls were an inspiration for the Ramones and preceded them by just a few years in the NYC music scene. My theory is that one day Dee Dee is riding along in the Ramones tour van with Johnny slurping sardines out a can* on the bench seat next to him when “Hot Hot Hot” comes one radio.

Radio: “Olay Olay Olay Olay”

Dee Dee: “I’ve gotta get outta here!”

If David can do it, so can Dee Dee. And thus, a founding member and principle songwriter of the Ramones leaves the band to be a rapper. The resulting album is worth a listen, or at least it’s worth listening to the first 30 seconds of each song, just for the WTF of it. On latter-day albums, the Ramones (soldiering on sans Dee Dee) would record some of these odd hip hop songs written by their erstwhile bandmate, but the would do them in their dirty bubble gum style. “The Crusher” is a favorite of mine among those.

Over on the other side of the paywall, I’ll link to a playlist of the songs referenced in this little essay, as well as some musings on the intertextuality of “Mash Potato Time.”

Collage of the Day