People often stop me on the street, and ask me this question: “Jim,” they ask me, “what is it like to be a Replacements fan?” Well, let me tell you . . .
In the most recent of Rolling Stone magazine’s forty zillion 40th Anniversary Editions, they had a section called “The Indie Rock Universe: An Illustrated Guide.”
This so-called “Guide” was essentially a gussied-up list of Indie Rock bands, broken into incredibly arbitrary distinctions surrounding the “Universe” theme. One of the sections was called “Ancestral Planets” — the pioneers of Indie Rock if you will — and it listed a bunch of worthies and honorables: Nirvana, Pixies, The Smiths, Hüsker Dü etc. These are some of my all-time favorites, and certainly worthy of inclusion on any list of great rock of any stripe.
Conspicuous by their absence: The Replacements. Whether it was an oversight or on purpose, it almost immediately jumped out at me, and ironically, this was a few pages away from where Billie Joe Armstrong was talking about how much he was influenced by “Answering Machine.”
This is what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
To me, The Replacements were the absolutely perfect combination of balls, brains and heart — but the world at large never seemed to get what was perfectly obvious to those of us who loved every fucked-up moment that they were around.
There’s a book that just came out called The Replacements: All Over But The Shouting. It’s an oral history, collected by long-time ‘mats friend and fan (and Minneapolis writer) Jim Walsh. It basically traces their history in a series of stories, and while I loved it, it might be somewhat confusing to anybody who didn’t already know their basic history.
Not that anybody who is going to read the book isn’t going to know that basic story. And I am sure as shit not going to reiterate it here. Instead, I’m going to add some of my Replacements stories — many of which I’ve told before — to the mix.
This is what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
It’s hard for me to know for sure anymore, but when all is said and done, they might — might — end up having been my all-time favorite rock and roll band. Their best songs are as good as anybody’s ever.
21 Replacements Songs That Are As Awesome As Any Rock ‘n’ Roll Song Ever Recorded (in order)
- “Answering Machine” – What does one say about what’s been his all-time favorite song for just about ever. I’ve deconstructed it so many times, wondering why. The way the guitar echos Paul? The lyrics about the futility of his long-distance commitment? (If it was a movie it would be called “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Caller” hee hee.) The way he sings “How do you say ‘I’m lonely’ to an answering machine?”
When I interviewed Paul, in addition to asking him about the “needs some ices” line, I asked him why nobody else played on it. He muttered something about being the only person to come into the studio that day. It’s more likely he didn’t want his band
anywhere near it to fuck it up. Not even having his band for support dramatizes his predicament, as his personal despair becomes universal: not just a answering machine–how do you say “I’m lonely” to ANYBODY? How come technology designed to enhance communication becomes just one more barrier? The song becomes larger than just his story.Then, to really take the piss out of him, the phone lady barges in. At first, “if you’d like to make a call, please dial your operator” she’s being helpful. Near the end, she turns on him and taunts him “ifyouneedhelp ifyouneedhelp ifyouneedhelp, as the percussion comes up and Paul’s screams of frustration recede in the background. It’s a brilliant, brilliant recording. And yes, just once, only once, I used it for my answering machine message. Duh.
- “Left of The Dial” – Best song ever about college radio? And (sigh) “growin old in a bar/you grow old in a bar.” From the opening guitar to the final “Left of the dialllls” while Tommy is playing a bassline downloaded from Paul McCartney, this song is almost too perfect for words. Like “I Can See For Miles,” “Jumping Jack Flash,” “Safe European Home,” “Celebrated Summer,” or “Come As You Are,” it defines everything I’ve ever loved or ever will love about rock ‘n’ roll.
- “Unsatisfied” – Well, yeah, of course, we know what it is — an anthem, the only true answer song to “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” but without the outside annoyances that troubled ole Mick. Paul’s unsatisfied from within. And one of the all-time great sing-alongs. “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m satisfied.” As the song progresses he gets more and more desperate–will satisfaction never come? “I’m so I’m so UNsatisfied.” I don’t know how many times I’ve sang that coda at full volume with Paul, sometimes with tears streaming down my face until he finally collapses with that last, resigned “I’m so . . .”
- “Can’t Hardly Wait” – Would work for the riff alone. (In fact the Shit Hits The Fans version did.) So count the wonderful words as an extry special bonus: “hurry up hurry up, aintcha had enough of that stuff?/ashtray floors dirty clothes and filthy jokes.” Then the strings and horns kick in, driving by and overtaking that turning and churning riff. It doesn’t go away, it just bides its time and waits until Paul’s last “Can’t hardly wayyyeeeaaaiiiit” when even the horns (wait, can’t hardly) are compelled to play it, too.
- “Hold My Life” – What a way to jumpstart your Major Label Sellout album, by picking up where we had previously left off: Paul down on the floor, begging for whatever he can get. And dig the Tutor Turtle reference: “razzle dazzle drazzle drone/time for this one to come home.” Reminds me of Babe Ruth league in Jr. High–when a pitcher would get in trouble, the opposing dugout would yell “help me, Mr. Wizard!”
- “I Will Dare” – The story of every relationship I ever had. “If you will dare I will dare” sums it all up in a nutshell, as does “how smart are you?/how dumb am I?” A #1 hit single in some other part of the Metaverse.
- “Valentine” – “When you wish upon a star/And it turns into a plane” is one of my most favorite opening line ever. Tommy’s great bassline propels it along quite nicely.
- “Hayday” – Yeah!! “Goin’ to the party that we weren’t invited.” What does this song mean?? Who gives a fuck? Jeeze it’s got this much power and Chris’ really bad drumming. Cool.
- “Talent Show (Live)” – This version captures the rock n roll anarchy that compelled me to see them as much as I could -sometimes travelling a couple of hundred miles to do it. The “we won’t say nothing bad on TV” at the breakdown references not just their recent performance at the “Rock Awards Show,” (where they got around the censoring of “feeling good from the pills we took” lyric by changing the coda to “it’s too late to take pills, here we goooooo”) but also the infamous Saturday Night Live appearance, the beta of which we wore out watching over and over again.
- “Skyway” – Not much about anything really, just a series of observations. And some nice acoustic guitar.
- “Here Comes A Regular” – The real Cheers theme. The thinking man’s drinking song; or is it the drinking man’s thinking song? “I used to live at home/now I stay at their house.” The piano solo is one thing but the way the strings
swell up and envelope a weary Paul with their sweet sadness is quite another, isn’t it? - “Wake Up” – More energy than you would have thought possible that late in the game, with “wake up and wonder where you are” a classic ‘Mats chorus. Too bad it wasn’t released until 1997, instead of 1989 when it would have added a real shot of punky energy to Don’t Tell a Soul.
- “Within Your Reach” – Drum Machine? Phased Guitar?
Synth?!!????? An unabashed love song?? Well, maybe.
Really, at this time, only Paul could have made it work without making it seem like some sort of sell-out. In 1983 we were incredibly synthophobic, and for “Within Your Reach” to be definitive was really due to its garage feel:
it was always on the verge of falling apart, which kept it from being slick and produced. And his singing. “Sun keeps rising in the west.” Resignation. “Die within your reeee-each.” When this showed up unannounced in “Say
Anything” I just about fell over. Much better of a love song than that lame-o “In Your Eyes.” - “Nobody” – Shows Paul’s penchant for what my English teachers used to call “telling detail:” “still in love with nobody/and I won’t tell nobody/and I used to be nobody.” Also, note his classic song structure: verse chorus verse chorus bridge solo verse chorus.
- “Alex Chilton” – Another #1 hit single in that other dimension. What a superb chorus! “Children by the millions wait for Alex Chilton” just sounds good.
- “I’m In Trouble” – 1st single, and a very typical Paul Westerberg hook. At the time, they were lumped in the “hardcore” morass, but this shows the intelligence even through the drunkenness. What was that math property, you know: “IF you’re in love, THEN I’m in trouble?” The If/Then theory or something???
- “I’ll Be You” – Another massive hit single somewheres. Don’t know what any of it means, but he used “rebel without a clew” before Tom Petty, who I’ve always liked a lot, appropriated it. Nice call and response hook and of course: “bored right out of my skullllllllllllll.”
- “Androgynous” – Some serious genius at work here. For a band making its rep at being falling-down drunk, a piano ballad w/ inyourface words. And, oh god, that “mirror image/see no damage/see no evil at all” was light-years ahead on the maturity tip.
- “Color Me Impressed” – A punk-pop story about a really fun night where Paul musta been about 17 sheets to the wind.
- “If Only You Were Lonely” – Buried on the B-side of an obscure (supposedly) hardcore 7″ is this complete gem. An acoustic country goof studded with great line. “I ain’t very good/but I get practice by myself.”
- “The Ledge” – A deep dark powerful song about teen suicide. Probably one of the reasons the high school in “Heathers” is called Westerburg (sic!) High. A great touch. Thanks, Winona. Also, Paul’s guitar duet with himself and Chris’ drums is major in a Clash-like way.
I stole most of those song descriptions above from something that I sent to Matt Tomich’s Skyway mailing list — liner notes for an imaginary compilation — in 1994, when all of this was much fresher in my mind.
You see, when I first got online, in 1993, it was on Prodigy, and shortly thereafter, AOL. I almost immediately discovered The Replacements section on both services, and discovered all of these other people, who lived in places like Iowa, or Virginia, who had pretty much had the same experiences as I did in the 1980s — college radio, local bands, fanzines and road trips. Now with these online forums and mailing lists like the Skyway — which I’m still on — we were beginning to connect with each other.
I wonder if these experiences amplified my love for The Replacements in such a way that they’ve stayed one of my all-time favorites in a way that The Smiths or the Hüskers haven’t. I did try other forums, but nothing ever clicked in the same way.
My guess is that yes, the swapping of stories and comparison of lists and even meeting face to face did amplify that love. It was sitting in your friend’s room and listening to Tim for the first time with a bunch of people (which was how it happened) writ large. Which is why what seemed so exotic to us is now a basic marketing strategy.
On these primitive forums and mailing lists, we swapped stories about our experiences with The Replacements back in the day, like for example, when I interviewed Paul Westerberg for KFSR on April 19, 1985. Nearly a decade later, here’s the version I sent into The Skyway:
Paul was nice. He was sober and respectful of my questions and gave (what I remember) intelligent and thoughtful answers. He spoke quietly and chain-smoked (even though I was a militant non-smoker and there was no smoking allowed in the studio I didn’t even say a word) throughout. I think he knew he was in the presence of someone who loved his music, and not some MTV VJ wanna-be. Later on, two or three different people told me that he thought the interview was “cool.” No higher praise I could have received.
By the way, I recorded that interview. And then accidentally erased it.
This is what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
And that night? They totally killed. They played Fresno three times: that night at the Star Palace, a couple of years later at the Old Town Saloon and Dining Emporium; and in 1989 at CSUF’s Satellite College Union.
In 1987, I got to interview Tommy, not Paul, and he was, er, much less co-operative than Paul. Though he did offer to buy my girlfriend’s purse. In 1989, nobody was interviewed, but the girl I was with then was thrown out of the venue for crowd surfing, because she ended up on stage and the security goons gave her the bum’s rush.
All in all, I saw them five times — road trip! — but I never did see one of their legendary meltdowns. They always had the reputation as total and utter fuck-ups, but every single time that I saw them, I saw one of the greatest live bands you could possibly imagine. Every single time — well, maybe not in 1991 in Hollywood, when even Chris Mars had flown the coup. But for whatever reason, they were on their best — musical — behavior in Fresno.
Maybe that was because our dinky college station was able to fill a 500 seat club the first time they showed up.
Here’s the other thing I remember: at the time, AOL didn’t have enough bandwidth, or something for all of their music forums. So they actually had people vote whether or not to get rid of The Replacements forum, or the forum of another band. That other band? Duran Duran. I think that the Replacements have always been kind of an enemy of and antidote to Duran Duran.
In the end, I think that AOL ended up keeping both forums, which was where I was when I wrote this about Bob Stinson’s death:
I saw them with Bob and I saw them without Bob, and I loved them every time.
Of course, I was drunk . . .
And because of Pleased to Meet Me and the rock and roll balls of the post Bob shows I witness, I cannot join the knee-jerk “they were cooler with him” brigade. They were cool either way. We shouldn’t lose sight of that because Bob was the first to succumb to the lifestyle many of us loved them for leading.
I loved them cos they were me up there — real, frail, wasted, human, and drawn to the power and beauty of rock and roll. Maybe Bob was the epitome of that — if so, that also means something. That MY life was saved by rock and roll, I’ve never been in any doubt. Hell, my ‘mats compilation tapes are titled “Why The Replacements Saved My Life.” But sometimes I wonder if it was also ruined by rock and roll, that my attraction to its primal, steamy, seamy and brainless side is a bottomless hole I’ve dug for myself.
- Let it Be – A+
- Pleased to Meet Me – A
- Tim – A
- Hootenanny! – A-
- Nothing for All – A-
- Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out The Trash – B+
- Don’t Tell a Soul – B+
- All Shook Down – B+
- Stink – B
I fell in love with The Replacements instantly. It happened like this: as you might remember, R.E.M. pretty much ruled the world of college radio from almost the moment Chronic Town came out, and one of our DJs had joined the R.E.M. Fan Club. Because they were as much evangelists as anything in those days, she got a mailing that said “hey, if you like us, you should try these bands.”
One of those bands was The Replacements. I had missed Sorry Ma, and Stink — probably because they were considered “hardcore” at the time, and I wasn’t really into it.
As it turns out, we had an extra promo copy of Hootenanny floating around the radio station, so I snagged it, (thanks, Kirk!) and instantly swooned over its raggedy eclecticism.
Then the “I’ll Will Dare” 12″ showed up, and it was better than anything on Hootenanny, whetting my appetite for what was to come: some of the greatest albums of the 1980’s, and, actually, ever.
The 1980’s get slagged a lot, but there were a few bands — X (at the beginning), Sonic Youth (at the end), R.E.M., The Smiths, U2, and the ungodly prolific Hüsker Dü (where are our Hüsker Dü reissues?!?!) — who had runs of three or four or five albums that were all-time greats.
And, of course, The Replacements were one of those bands with a run of amazing albums. If I was forced, this is how I would rank their records:
You, of course, would probably rank them differently. After Let it Be, I mean, which pretty much sits pitch-perfect in between their noisy, crazy youth and the more polished (relatively) records that followed.
That record, whew, was nearly dizzying in its contradictions and tossed-away depth. It is almost impossible to overstate how much it has meant to me over the years, so I can’t even try. I’ll say this: it is still my all-time favorite album by anybody.
Of course, had Let it Be been a one-shot, their The Days of Wine Roses or Strangers Almanac, things would be totally different, but it followed a two great records and preceded two records that were nearly as great as it was.
Both of those records came after the ‘mats signed to a major label, and if you want to make a case for either one being as good as Let it Be, I can’t argue too much.
Tim was one of those albums that got me through a rough patch during the mid-1980s, where l had no idea who I was or where I was going. The deeply personal words in songs like “Hold My Life” or “Here Comes a Regular” resonated deeply, and made me feel less sad or alone or whatever long-gone early-20s feelings I was feeling at the time. That’s probably where the overly dramatic “Why The Replacements Saved My Life” name for my best-of cassettes and CDs comes from: my third-favorite Replacements album.
This is what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
When Pleased to Meet Me came out, it just solidified how I felt about Paul’s songs:
Just in case anyone was wondering, this should cast aside all doubts about just whom the best and most personal songwriter is in the world today.
Paul Westerberg, more than any rock songwriter since Pete Townshend, writes “I” songs, the most vulnerable and hardest type of all. That, plus his attention to telling details, is what makes him such a fantastic songwriter. Things like “When you wish upon a star/and it turns into a plane” (from “Valentine”) pop up constantly. And in “I Don’t Know,” he defines his stance — “One foot in the door/the other one in the gutter” — as the eternal pessimist who is paradoxically cocky at the same time.
This tension has been threatening to pull his songs apart at the seam ever since he asked a girl “How smart are you/How dumb am I?” then asked her to “Meet me anyplace or anywhere or anytime” on Let It Be’s “I Will Dare.”
And that’s a good reference point, because with Westerberg’s raspy emoting up top and the rhythm team of Chris Mars and Tommy Stinson underneath, at the very least, The Replacements would be just another fine Stonesish rock and roll band. But with Westerberg’s songwriting spurring them, The Replacements are turning out to be one of the best and most important groups the ’80’s have to offer.
It is, BTW, a travesty how fucking awful Pleased to Meet Me and Tim have always sounded on CD.
This is what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
After that, of course, it went downhill. Don’t Tell a Soul was a disappointment — better a thousand “Gary’s Got a Boners” than a single “Rock ‘n’ Roll Ghost — and All Shook Down was a Paul Westerberg solo album in all but name.
By the way, I love both of those records: the disappointment of Don’t Tell a Soul was relative, and I’ve remained a fan of Paul Westerberg throughout his entire solo career.
As a matter of fact, I’ve followed all of them through their solo careers: not only did I buy both of Chris Mars’ first solo albums, I even bought Slim Dunlap’s first solo album. I say “first” in both of these cases, because for all I know, they’re still making records, but the returns on those records were so instantly diminishing that I’m not really worried about missing anything.
Tommy Stinson’s post-‘mats career has been a bit more interesting: you could do a lot worse to pick up the Bash n Pop album, Friday Night is Killing Me — the title track along shows how much he was paying attention to Paul’s songwriting. However, after that, it was pretty much downhill, and then he got stuck in the black hole of Chinese Democracy.
But Paul keeps plugging along. In the 1990s, each solo album was worse than the others, but early this decade, he went lo-fi, and recorded a couple of albums that were nearly as good as what he did with the Replacements. If a song like “AAA,” didn’t get as deep into my brain as “Hold My Life,” I’m going to put that on me being older, not him losing his touch.
And of course, for a recent complation album, Paul and Tommy and Chris even went into a studio and recorded a couple of pretty good songs , spurring the inevitable reunion rumours. I’m of two minds about this: would I go? Hell yeah! Would it be much more than The Paul Westerberg Band With Special Guest Tommy Stinson Plays The Replacements For Aging Gen-Xers? Hell no!
At this point, I think it would be like that Velvet Underground reunion: the music was unimpeachable, but Lou Reed had been working in the vein for such a long time that it kinda came off as a Velvets-centric solo thing, as opposed to a true reunion. My guess is that a ‘mats reunion would be the same thing.
But maybe they would surprise me. They’ve done it before.
This what it’s like to be a Replacements fan.
Great article. I enjoyed the song analysis coupled with the personal reflections. I also agree that “Let It Be” was their best–it’s a pitch-perfect representation of the band.
Music can be such a lifeline…for me, it was Iggy and the Ramones and Television that saved my life.
My personal favorite album, of course, is Tim. No reason really.
Having only seen them once, I did experience “the meltdown.” It was in London at the Town & Country and I lived nearby, so I could just walk to the show. (Husker Du played there like a week later. Little did I know then that that fortnight would be some historic concert going for me.)
After one song, Paul got angry at Tommy, or the sound guy, or someone, and stormed off stage. The band followed. Fucking great, I thought. I paid my 10 pounds only to see one song. After minutes or so they came back and played a blinding set, no doubt fueled by whatever it was that had set Westerberg off. He wasn’t loaded, noticeably, but I had the feeling by the end that I might never see this band again. I never did. They never played London again to my knowledge. But at least I got to witness the fucked up majesty that was The Replacements.
Awesome post! I remember taping that great interview you did with Westerberg. I might have erased it also ; I will eventually check my box of old cassettes to see if I still have it.
My top 5 favorite Replacements songs that failed to make your list of 21.
1. Bastards of Jung
2. Will power
3. 20th Century Boy
4. Kick Me On The Bus
5. Take Me Down To The Hospital
Thanks John!
If you still have it, and it’s still playable, that would be wayyyy too cool.
Despite the fact that I recorded nearly single show I ever did, I now have exactly zero tapes from that time.
OOOOh man. What I wouldn’t give to sift through John R’s box of old cassettes.
You didn’t happen to tape my Lucia Pamela interview, did you?
Sorry Kirk, I remember hearing that wonderful interview you did with Lucia Pamela, but I wasn’t smart enough to tape it. I had a bunch of tapes stolen out of my car around 1987. Most of the stuff I’m finding is from 1988. I’ll keep listening to them, hopefully I can locate the interview with Westerberg.
I had that happen to me: a box with 40 or so mixtapes made from 1987 – 1992 was stolen out of my car at the Wild Blue parking lot in the Spring of 1992. It was a smash and grab, and sucked on a couple of different levels:
1) I lived very close to the Blue and 98% of the time walked there, so it was stupid that I drove.
2) Every single tape was a homemade tape, created specifically as snapshots of what I was listening to at the time, so they had no value to anybody else. Certainly not for the drug money resale value. My assumption was that the whole kit and kaboodle was thrown into a dumpster near the Blue almost immediately.
Of course, I started back up making tapes a couple of months later . . .
What a pleasure to read! With the book and the longing for the reissues/box, it is a joy to read about the same kind of experiences and feelings I have had; written by another person in another state. It was awsome to meet a half-a-dozen Midwest members of AMR during the stereo tour when I was still an obsessive ng tape weeder. My cardboard beer case of boot tapes has been dusted off and cheers to you and Jim Walsh!
Thanks Tom!
I had the same reaction when I met a bunch of East Coast ‘mats fans in a bar in Virginia in the mid-1990s. We’d been trading online quips on Prodigy for well over a year by then, so it was extra cool to be able to have drinks as well.
On a snowy day in February of ’91, at the State Theater in Ann Arbor, the band was clearly wasted. Slim was having a hard time standing up. Tommy laughed at Paul numerous times about Paul forgetting the words to the songs. This is when Paul was married the first time and his former wife walked down the side aisle with her hands over her ears like the “hear no evil” monkey. Always wondered if they were drunk just to piss her off. I drove two and-a-half hours in a blizzard to see them and was feeling demoralized by the end of the show, when Paul said, “oh, just come and see us in East lansing tomorrow” To which the crowd yealled in unison, “Kalamazoo!!!” Thankfully, I saw the kazoo show and they were on, even playing Answering Machine toward the end of the show. And then they played Detroit July 2nd before their last show. It felt like they were trying to make up for Ann Arbor, because it was the best ’91 show out of Chicago, Ann Arbor, Kalamazoo, and Detroit. Of course it was better than the final Grant park show which I listened to on the radio.
I’m a 21 year old Replacements fan, born a year before PTMM hit the shelves, and obviously never got to see the boys live, but I have to say your article put into words my exact feelings towards my favorite band of all time. This was really fantastic to read.
P.S. Props for mentioning “Wake Up”. That and “Portland” were to incredible songs from an album we will probably never hear. (Judging from those two songs alone, you know it’s gotta be better than DTAS. Althought I love DTAS.)
Thanks Matt,
“Portland” just barely missed that list. I think that adding those two songs to DTAS (how awesome would it have been for “Portland” be the last song on that record?) would have made strengthened it considerably. And if they replaced “Back to Back” and “Rock N Roll Ghost,” it could have been another all-time classic.
My favorite bit in “Wake Up” is the crazy, totally-out-of-place horn section that just shows up near the end of the song.
Excellent job with this. Thanks.
jim — if I ain’t mistakin’, I was one of your prodigy buddies way back in the day.
“replacements…” was the section, I think. my moniker at the time was “JHLOY” — and I think you were “barefoot jim.” am I remembering correctly?
it’s gotta be you — after reading this story above. great stuff.
take care!
curt
Curt,
You are absolutely not mistakin’. I am that guy, and I’m glad that you liked my piece!!
A great read, and a nicely compiled selection of songs too. I wanted to throw you a new take on The Skyway which you may have overlooked if your comment was anything to go by: “Not much about anything really, just a series of observations. And some nice acoustic guitar.”. Picture Minneapolis back in the early-mid eighties….
Paul is down in the street looking up at the skyway which the girl is riding on.
“You take the skyway, high above the busy little one-way
In my stupid hat and gloves, at night I lie awake
Wonderin’ if I’ll sleep
Wonderin’ if we’ll meet out in the street”
In the second verse Paul has gone looking for the girl on the skyway, only to find her walking down in the street where he is usually.
“Oh, then one day, I saw you walkin’ down that little one-way
Where, the place I’d catch my ride most everyday
There wasn’t a damn thing I could do or say
Up in the skyway”
That’s just the basic outline of a simple love song that I have spent many hours(days) listening to.
I personally consider The Skyway to be a truly genious moment in the Replacements catalog. Paul creates a heart wrenching tale of failing to find love against the back drop of Minneapolis. Paul tells us what it was like for him in his younger years, out in the cold streets or riding in the skyway with the occupying homeless.
It’s hardly the perfect love story, but at least it’s real. Something we can always rely upon from Mr. Westerberg.
As I say though, nice post ๐ I’ll give it a mention on our GNR forum, quite a few Tommy Stinson fans there.
Will,
Thanks a lot for that deconstruction of “Skyway.” I think that, for whatever reason, it’s one of those songs that I love mostly because it’s so durned purty, so I’ve never bothered to totally figure out what was going on in the words.
I won’t change what I wrote above, but I will listen to it with new ears, which is totally awesome.
A follow-up to Will’s comment:
I’ve always heard “Skyway” as the ultimate Replacements story.
That bum imagery seems to be more figurative than literal. A self-depricating knock, but also an attack against working stiffs. This is the same awkward, timid character of “Customer.” Feeling burned, hurt, and scared. Maybe it’s just easier to stay quiet and stay put.
But there’s that beautiful twist of an ending. That this “bum” picked himself up and tried. Tried to be there. Tried to say something. Tried to do anything. Except their places get reversed, and he gets trapped in the skyway. An acute case of “right place, wrong time.”
Kind of like the Mats themselves.
Yea, the guys really a versitile. I just can stand the FACT that Tom petty stole Paul’s line Rebel without a clue. I mean really. They were together on the 89 tour and gee all of a sudden, Petty comes out with tat song in 90 or 91. What a joke! I mean, how obvious is that? Throw some royalities or something. Anyway, seriously Paul is an original who branced out and made himself and maintains.
Yea, the guys really a versitile. I just can stand the FACT that Tom petty stole Paul’s line Rebel without a clue. I mean really. They were together on the 89 tour and gee all of a sudden, Petty comes out with tat song in 90 or 91. What a joke! I mean, how obvious is that? Throw some royalities or something. Anyway, seriously Paul is an original who branched out and made himself and maintains.
jim — a little belated reaction — but, glad that my inclinations were correct. and, glad to see you still waxin’ on about paul and the mats.
I actually found your article here thanks to kathy’s paul website — another former prodigy-er. gotta love it.
I’ll have to keep an eye open for more of your articles n’stuff. take care!
Thanks for expressing in words what I feel. I’ve never wondered why at pivotal moments in my life I seem to have The Replacements or Paul Westerberg handy. It’s just logical, I guess, in an un-logical way. Great post!
Thanks Curt and thanks Mike!
Another prodigy alum piping up to say great piece! On my recent 40th birthday I found myself singing “How young are you? How old am I? Let’s count the rings around my eyes …” ‘mats lyrics are like the Bible — you can always find an appropriate quote for an occasion.