Music never saved anyone
There are few bands you are lucky enough to grow up with, bands which evolve and create a tempo, an aural sense apace with yourself. Unfortunately, The Replacements came a decade too early; I started when they ended, in 1991. Just as well, since the 80s would not have kind to me, nor would I have fitted in amid the Thatcherites administering Britain’s decay; all that’s left was to wait for re-issues. Or so I thought.
No sooner had the corpse of The Replacements been gently laid to rest that a resurrected Paul Westerberg took centre stage. Quite literally, too: the 1993 Borderline gig in London was the perfect re-introduction. Such is life’s unpredictability.
Ten years provide ample opportunity to reflect on the brutally short span of life’s way, so when the 2002 tour was announced, we each made our pilgrimage to the East coast to attend his New York city trilogy. Each show, each event, was unique, where the skies were lit anew each evening. I don’t really know why, it just felt right.
With good music, all the elements across life are present; there is free movement, an ability to traverse all sides of the puzzle without being subject to arbitrary, constraining forces. Music never saved a soul, but thanks for not giving up on me, Paul.
The Replacements, redux
There is no end to the lunacy of The Replacements. Like the time when guitarist Bob Stinson turned up late one evening. Nothing unusual about that - except that it was a show his band was playing. Or the time when Bob fought with Paul on stage in the middle of a set. But that’s just part of the story: The Replacements were one of the best bands to emerge from the 80s American indie/post-punk scene. Of course, they didn’t make it; they were bound not to. That’s our loss, but here’s some of those little things -
“Well, I broke the seal on my door
And I poured myself to bed
The whirlpool spinning
Around in my head
There was liquor on my breath
And you were on my mindAnd I’ll be dreamin of that smile
Without a care in the world
If only you were lonely,
If only you was lonely too,
I’d go home with you”.
When the Mats broke up post-All Shook down, they disappeared and each did their own thing. Chris Mars is an artist, having released a couple of good CDs, while both Slim and Tommy Stinson are still in the business.
A decade and three albums later, Paul Westerberg released his best work - the double disc Stereo / Mono set. He’s older, wiser and confident enough to wander into unexpected spaces.
Of late, he has been looking at the past via the past; his covers of John Prine’s “Souveniers”, Jackson Browne’s “These Days” and John Fogerty’s “Wrote a song for everyone” offer a poignant, self-reflective view of the song-writer’s craft. Truly wonderful, and if this is indicative of what lies ahead, we will all be lucky people.
Want to listen to one of Paul’s radio appearances? Its a great show featuring 5 songs interspersed with funny moments. Click KCRW and then click on “Listen”.
2002 Album of the Year:
Not everyone ignored Paul Westerberg during the past year. Some consider Stereo and Mono as the best album of 2002.
2003 and beyond:
The documentary film of the Come Feel me Tremble tour premiered in San Francisco during the summer. The DVD was released in late October along with an accompanying soundtrack and Dead Man Shake. The Grandpaboy release is good bluesy music, with a Westerbergian swing. Shedding alter ego, he re-emerges as the real Westerberg for Come feel me tremble. But he has also shed more than that: inhibitions and formulae are discarded as well. Thereby it is the “real” Westerberg not only in identity but also in its truthfulness, simplicity, and genius, for this is the best record he has made.
Who knows what Folker (Spring 2004) will sound like, but the present sounds damm good.
In praise of musical genius - a literary appreciation:
My friend Nick Hornby published a book of musical recollections entitled 31 Songs. Here’s his take on “Born for me”, which sums the musicality of Paul.
“Paul Westerberg, everyone’s favourite coulda-beena-contender, is no pianist, but his solo on “Born for me” is just lovely - maybe because he’s the singer-songwriter, and knows what his song feels like to him, and therefore what it should feel like to us.
“Born for me” is a ragged ballad, with a Waitsian lonely losers’ lyric and an affectively heartsick tune; the solo is basically played with one finger, and initially at least consists of three notes, but it sounds great to me - not in a punky, do-it-yourself way (although, frankly you could, once you’ve heard it), but in a strangely, intensely muscal way. A better pianist would have wrecked the moment, filled in the gaps, failed to recognize how the tune has exerted a spell over the right listener; somebody with little talent and absolutely no ear would simply have chosen the wrong three notes.
Just as you know intuitively when the simplest and crudest brushstrokes have been made by a proper artist, I can never listen to the solo without thinking that it’s played by a born musician - not a virtuoso, not even somone who could make a living as a pianist in a cocktail lounge, just a man who thinks and feels and loves and speaks in music.”
Tommy Stinson in London
Paul Westerberg, live at The Scala
It’s been 11 years since the Borderline show. Tonight, he returned to play the favourites, but reluctantly, without much heart: standard songs served sloppily. The cold start failed to silence the maddening crowd. Slowly, the emotion and grace with which “My Dad”, “First Glimmer” and “Born for me” were delivered gave clue to the troubadour beneath the long-lost, long-anxious friend. If he needed reminding of the warmth of his British-based fans’ welcome, the concert’s final third dispelled all doubt. Welcome back, Paul, and don’t be a stranger.
Paul Westerberg, live at Pantages
Just gotta tell you - listening to the Pantages shows … I’m listening to the Sunday show now … and it sends chills down my spine. And tears to my eyes. He is genius.
2005 on the road again with Besterberg:
The last leg of the American tour. Some stunning shows, some stinkers.
Essential reading:
Jeremy Gluck has written two stunning articles: “Love Untold” and “A Star Is Reborn”. Both were originally published in Bucketfull of Brains. Essential reading.
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