sivad
Star Scout
Posts: 323
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Post by sivad on Jan 5, 2011 13:11:20 GMT -5
I was trying to find some ink (old or new) on Paul, so I thought, why not start with our members. Can anyone post an interesting article to share? Thanks
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nazareth
Star Scout
All men are Liars.......
Posts: 537
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Post by nazareth on Jan 5, 2011 15:06:20 GMT -5
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sivad
Star Scout
Posts: 323
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Post by sivad on Jan 5, 2011 15:25:06 GMT -5
I've checked that out, too. It was that article that FreeRider posted from Musician that got me thinking about this.
I know there's a ton of articles out there that weren't included in that collection. That's what I'm looking for. If anyone could supply me with the magazine name and date, I could take it from there.
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Post by BronxTeacher on Jan 5, 2011 16:43:51 GMT -5
One article that I've always wanted to read but have never seen on-line is Jack Rabid's interview with Paul. Apparently Paul talks about what transpired backstage at the International Rock Awards. Anyone have this one?
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Squaw
Star Scout
You're the only one that you are screwin' when you put down what you don't understand~ Kristofferson
Posts: 544
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Post by Squaw on Jan 5, 2011 17:05:19 GMT -5
I was trying to find some ink (old or new) on Paul, so I thought, why not start with our members. Can anyone post an interesting article to share? Thanks Here's a link to Matt Tomich's newsletter, in case you haven't seen it. It has links to some good articles. theskyway.com/issues/088jan0211.pdf
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Post by KingArchie on Jan 5, 2011 18:52:36 GMT -5
Wow - The Skyway is back. Thanks for the link.
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Post by TomT on Jan 5, 2011 19:30:22 GMT -5
The skyway! I used to read that stuff probably 8-10 years ago. Always wondered what became of Matt Tomich. Now I know.
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 6, 2011 10:10:10 GMT -5
I don't have the acutal magazine but I've got the interview in text form:
MUSICIAN MAGAZINE/The Replacement's Little Problem Musician, December 1990 By Bill Flanagan
The Replacements Have Done It Again. Another Terrific collection of songs and another rash of coast-to-coast gossip that America's favorite underdogs are on their last legs. Singer/songwriter Paul Westerherg was ready to make a solo album this time, but Warner Records- whose faith in the 'Mats finally began to pay off with radio play for their last album, Don't Tell a Soul- pushed Paul to make another Replacements LP. So Paul went in with producer Scott Litt and supplemented the Replacements' lineup with guest musicians such as Benmont Tench on keyboards, Steve Berlin on sax and John Cale on viola. Now that's not so provocative- those are all instruments the 'Mats don't play. Paul also played most of the guitar- which left Slim Dunlap with less to do, but that's not such a hig deal hecause Slim only joined the hand one album ago and, heck, Paul played all the guitars on 1987's Pleased to Meet Me. Paul also plaxed a lot of the bass himself, which left Tommy Slinson with less to do, but Tommy's always been pretty supportibe of Paul's auteurisrn and, shucks, 'Mats albums have often had a "Paul plays all the instruments" track. The real rumbles have come over Paul's use of Michael Blair, Charley Drayton and Mauro Majellan- three drummers. The 'Mats do have a drummer, Chris Mars, who spent most of the -All Shook Down sessions on the bench.
Talking to Paul at home in Minneapolis in early October, he seems as unsure as anyone about the future of the Replacements. All Shook Down is introspective, largely acoustic, the kind of music made just before dawn. when the show is live hours over and the post-gig party has shrunk down to three or four heartfelt, half-asleep hangers-on. Listen to the song titles: "Bent Out of Shape," "Sadly Beautiful," "My Little Problem," "Torture," "The Last," "Nobody," "Someone Take the 'Wheel." All the optimism of a suicide note.
"The word 'acoustic' scares people," Westerberg warns. "In my mind 'One wink' and 'Nobody' rock harder than 'We'll Inherit the Earth,' with its 10 sheets of reverb and compressed electric guitar. It's a very rock 'n' roll record, it's just that there's not a lot of electric rhythm guitar on it. It's almost like Eddie Cochran- 'Summertime Blues' didn't even have electric guitar on it. What we are is risk takers, we're daring, It amazes me how people will come up and say ," Westerberg affects a mopey voice, 'The Replacements are not like they used to be.' They still want damn Stink. The whole point was, we changed right off the bat. We had acoustic songs on the first record! And I think it's up to us to keep changing. We're not Bowie-esque chameleons here, but to dabble in different styles is kind of the mark of the band."
And to write great songs is the mark of Paul Westerberg. His melodies take unexpected detours, he hits his chords on unexpected beats, and his lyrics have rhymes you can never anticipate and a sense of revealing detail that would do Chuck Berry proud. Listen to how he opens "One Wink at a Time": "The magazine she flips through is the special double issue. Smells like perfume. She leaves it on the plane. Baggage claim is this way so watch her walk down that way, in a hurry to put an end to this day She's got the devil in her eyes. Only one way to exorcise him. One wink, at a time. A mail-order ring wrapped tight around a Simgapore sling that night. Think to yourself it needs some more rum. Use me to lean against. You try to hail an ambulance. Try sticking out your tongue."
Now there are no rules for this stuff but a song like that is truer to life- and harder to write- than all the well-intentioned lyrics about nuclear disarmament, ozone protection and health food at 10 ecology rallies.
MUSICIAN: Did you have records you wanted this album to sound like in mind when you started?
WESTERBERG: I did. I brought a reference tape that we didn't listen to at all that had Todd Rundgren on it. [laughs] Roger Troutman was going to come in there. You can hear I wanted the real stark Rod Stewarty thing on songs like "Nobody." I wanted that very dry; two-acoustic-guitar-driven thing with just a big snare and none of this silly drum roll nonsense.
MUSICIAN: Yeah, like "Every Picture Tells a Story"- though your album really feels like Never a Dull Moment.
WESTERBERG: That was the first album I ever bought. I've always been shootin' for that one. But you-can't do it these days unless you have control over the engineers, because they're always turning that reverb knob on when you're not looking. That shit was dry, that's what makes it sound so cool.
MUSICIAN: "Sadly Beautiful" would be great for a woman to sing
WESTERBERG: It would be. In fact, it was supposed to be for Marianne Faitlifull. Someone said Marianne needed a song, so of course like a schmuck I went and wrote one and gave it to some A&R guy who bootlegged the thing all over the place. What sums her up in one phrase? That's what came to mind for me. But coming from a female standpoint allowed me to get [mincing voice] "ultrasensitive." lt allowed me to do things that might be harder to write as a man. But I don't know if Marianne ever even heard it Probably not
MUSICIAN: "Achin'to Be" was another song about a woman that sounded like it was really about you. Do you sometimes switch genders so you can get away with being more personal or emotional?
WESTERBERG: Uhh, yeah. I can't really analyze it but I guess. there is something like that going on there. I’m not comfortable with first-person narration and it is easier for me to say what's on my mind by using a character. And it's generally a woman. [laughs] I don't know what that says about me. I do have my problems.
MUSICIAN: You turn around at the end and say, "You left me sadly beautiful "- I don't know if you would have been able to be that direct four years ago.
WESTERBERG: Probably not I'm always looking for that. I don't want to get too obvious, where it's almost like the 0. Henry ending to every one of my songs where I twist it around. But "Achin' to Be" had that, "Merry Go Round" has that. The last sentence or the last phrase of the song is exactly what I meant, and you don't even have to listen to the rest of it- it's just a lead-up to the end. Lennon always did that well.
MUSICIAN: You whisper the song "All Shook Down."It has that demo feeling of "Don't want to wake up the wife but I gotta get this on tape before I forget it."
WESTERBERG: If you listen closely you can hear papers turning. I was laying on the floor, just reading a bunch of junk that I had scribbled in a notebook. There would be a whole bunch of crud and then there would be a line like "Off with their heads, on with my pants" and I'd go, "Aha! I'll use that one." On "All Shook Down" everything else had been crossed out and these were the phrases that weren't used, plus a few I threw in. You can hear me turning the page, you can actually hear the roadie walk in the room as I'm singing it, you can hear the door opening. I cut that at 11 in the morning with just the engineer. Litt wasn't there. I think he was trying to sell his condo or something. The cat was away on that one. Scott was not into that song. I was hesitant to do it, but Slim told me to. I thought it would be a good time to do it. It was one of those mornings before my eyes were quite opened and I thought, "Let's see if I can get myself singing in my sleep." My home demo was very similar to that, with the whispered thing. I'd been touring for so long and shouting every night. I hadn't lost my voice but I'd just grown tired of making a physical effort. I was thinking, "Boy, it would be nice to have a song I could sit down on my butt and sing when I'm 60." Writing these songs, for the first time I didn't think, "Who can play on these songs and who can't?" and "How am I going to pull this off live?" I was taking a real attitude of "The band is over. I don't care what happens. I'm just gonna write somesongs. 'I was even thinking, "If this never comes to be maybe I can give these songs to someone else." And that really freed me. Even though I knew in the back of my mind, "Yeah, we'll make a record," and "Yeah, we'll probably hit the road." Hence me kind of chickening out and putting on, like, "My Little Problem," thinking, "Well, that'll go over big onstage." But it allowed me to write good songs and not worry aboutr"Does this fit the Replacements image?"
MUSICIAN: Does the band exist today?
WESTERBERG: Well, uh, as we speak...no. But if there was a gig to play and we showed up, yes-We don't run around anymore as the band and we don't think as one brain and "What are we doing, boys?" There is a band called the Replacements, but that doesn't mean Slim can't go play with someone else or Tommy can't make a demo on his own. I mean, technically the band has never broken up. No one was fired, nobody quit. I'd just like to get to this level where when we're not playing together we have this feeling of freedom, of "I'm a musician, I’m a writer, I can do whatever I want." That's the feeling I had making this thing. Without that it would have been very stifling and I don't know what we would have come up with. It's a cliche, but when you get to 10 years there's just no way we can keep banging out records together and doing everything as a foursome without somebody getting creatively stifled. I certainly know Chris and Tommy are, and I obviously am or else I wouldn't have done this without including them on a lot of things.
MUSICIAN: From the outside it seems like Chris is not as versatile a drummer as the kinds of songs you're writing now require.
WESTERBERG: Yeah, exactly. Chris is the perfect drunimer for the Replacements circa 1985. And it's 1990. There are those songs I know Chris can smoke on, and then there's other things that, honestly, he doesn't have a clue. That's why on the credits for this album you see four drummers. I mean, we didn't bring in any guitar players. Chris is a great guy, but he doesn't practice, he doesn't rehearse. I don't rehearse playing guitar or singing, but I'm constantly writing so I feel at least that I'm doing what I do all the time. He won't pick up his drum-sticks until two days before a tour. We do miss having a funkier drummer on certain things.
MUSICIAN: Could you see a day when you and Tommy are the only two permanent Replacements with changing sidemen? Could you go out with different guys?
WESTERBERG: Yes. In fact, it would be easier to do with other guys, to be quite blunt about it And that raises the whole thing of, "Are we still a band?" We always prided ourselves on "We go out and interpret what we just recorded," like we're covering our own material. That is a possibility. When it gets down to that, though, it almost gets down to Tommy's worth. 'Cause I don't want to slowly fire the band until it's just me. I could never see myself replacing Chris and carrying on with Slim and Tommy. It opens a whole new can of worms. Maybe it's just tune for me to move on completely. But this thing runs deep and dark. It's not so easy. It always feels like giving up. I still would like this band to be successful. But I won't go down with the ship. I've come to that realization. I guess this was the first try to make things better, by maybe hurting a few feelings. But Tommy wants to sing and write and be his own creative thing, which I think is good. I just don't know how ready he is. It would be great if everybody could go out and do their own thing and play with whoever- and whoever flew, good luck, and whoever didn't, we'll see you back at the bar. But we know the answer to that one: I think I have the best chance, unfortunately. And it's tough for me to put that to them: "You guys make your records, I'll make mine." Well, that isn't quite fair.
MUSICIAN: But you would not go out with Tommy and Slim and without Chris.
WESTERBERG: Yeah, because frankly, Slim is no better than Chris and Tommy's no better than Slim. Together when we click is what works. But the individual playing could easily be replaced. I mean, shit, get somebody to play rhythm guitar for me as long as we're at it! If the drummer steps up a notch it's going to be obvious me and Tommy play a lousy-ass rhythm. [laughs] We've kept Chris around for that many years not to expose us! I'm glad you brought it up. No one else has the guts. You want to manage the band?
MUSICIAN:All right. I'll come in and say, "Boys, Paul has something to tell you"and then I'll leave. "Someone Take the Wheel" is about being sick of being the boss, sick of making the decisions?
WESTERBERG: That's it. That was the closest idea behind it The other two being the band thing and then there's a slight political reference. But it's about the fighting and "Who's in control?" and "What's going on here?" Somebody with a clear head please steer us inthe right direction.
MUSICIAN: This album feels like the summation of a lot of subjects you've written about before.
WESTERBERG: It does. I started thinking, "I don't know if this is going to be a band record or not, I don't know if this is going to be the last record." I approached it like it was going to be the last. So, I tried to include every element that was the band, from loud rockers to deathly quiet stuff. And I tried to write the songs more succinctly and stuff. I'm not breaking any new ground here lyrically.
MUSICIAN: 'Merry Go Round" seems to take of from that one line from Tim: "Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function'
WESTERBERG: It started there. Actually it's a rewrite of "Achin' to Be." I figured, "Well, they didn't push that one. I'll just change the key and try it again."
MUSICIAN: You did a B-side called "Date to Church" with Tom Waits a couple of years ago. How'd you hook up with him?
WESTERBERG: He showed up. We'd always been fans and a friend of a friend said, "Tom wants to come down and meet the band." We rolled tape and Tommy and Waits and I sat around until four in the morning doing songs together. It was the three drunkest men on the planet Earth. There's some hilarious stuff. I've hopefully got the only tape. If this one gets out I'll know who to kill.
MUSICIAN: Waits said some nice stuff about the Replacements in Musician a few years ago.
WESTERBERG: Yeah. He compared us to mosquitoes or something.
MUSICIAN: I meant when he said the Replacements were one of the few bands with a sense of mystery.
WESTERBERG: That's true: Are we a band or are we not a band? Are we shit or are we good? MUSICIAN: Did you know that Joe Henry's new album includes a song that sounds like Tom Waits called "Date for Church"?
WESTERBERG: Did he bring that to your attention?
MUSICIAN: No.
WESTERBERG: Because he sent me a letter way back- this was at the height of my mental confusion- and I didn't know what he meant. I think what he was doing in a very polite way was to say, "You stole my song, buddy." But I took it the other way; I thought he was saying, "I have a 'Date for Church,' too, so no hard feelings."
MUSICIAN: But his only came out last week.
WESTERBERG: Yeah, but I think we had met out in L.A. way back then. It was one of those nights. I think he might have told me of one of his titles and I hate to tell you, Joe, but I probably wasn't even listening. He assumed I was drinking in every word he was telling me and I probably was looking at someone across the room. I didn't steal it If I did do it unconsciously...I haven't heard Joe's version but he's a nice guy. I hope there's no hard feelings.
MUSICIAN: Have you considered moving out of Minneapolis?
WESTERBERG: I'm getting that question so much lately. I don't know what the hell is going on. More than ever in my life the thought has occurred to me, but also more than ever I realize that this is my home. If I wasn't in a band or popular I would like to live here. I like the weather. I'm not exactly revered around here; some people can be a little condescending, and I don't see that I'm going to make any more friends if I kick everybody out of the band. But I'm not going to worry about that. I can't see living in L.A. New York, possibly, but I'm too chicken.
MUSICIAN: In "They're Blind" you wrote about being scrutinized by people who don't even know you. Do you resent being well-known?
WESTERBERG: Being in the 'Mats for so long and wallowing in the Replacements attitude had grown as stale as anything. Along with the performances. That attitude that "Success is bad" was a holdover from the punk era. We had literally brainwashed ourselves into thinking that. I've come to grips with the fact that you can't have success without fame. You could probably get famous without being successful; I don't know if you could do it the other way around, but that's always been our intenton- to get the music across to people and make people happy without being huge stars. I guess there's a way to be popular but to be cool. You have to look to people like John Hiatt, maybe Dylan, Tom Petty certainly. They really handle it well. If we ever got to that level I hope that we could do it like that. I mean, we let it go to our heads back when it wasn't there to go. When we started we assumed we were stars simply because we were playing onstage. We've kind of been through that, so I don't fear it as much as I did a couple of years ago.
MUSICIAN: Every Replacements album has sold twice as many as the one before it. Is the record company worried that All Shook Down's not commercial enough?
WESTERBERG: No. To me they don't say much. They say, "You're lookin' good!" [laughs] "You look well, Paul." "I think radio's going to have a problem with this one but don't worry, babe." I can sense what they're going through 'cause they don't have a track to go after. Even "I'll Be You" was more accessible than "Merry Go Round." I understood from the beginning that there was no -surefire single to get us on the radio, and I didn't bend to make one that way and have it fail. Had there been a song tailor-made for radio, I would have done it, but I just didn't have one. I think it's gonna sell more than the last one, but if it doesn't I'm prepared. I don't have any great expectations.
MUSICIAN: You've written many songs about alcohol, but "The Last" actually seems to use love as a metaphor for drinking.
WESTERBERG: It's a drunken man writing about love, who doesn't know love from drinking. He doesn't know his head from his ass. He doesn't know his life from his death. When you drink to excess your problems over-intensify. You can't differentiate between love or a relationship and a hangover. It's all sort of one. Hopefully that will change.
MUSICIAN:Are you still drinking'
WESTERBERG: Non-alcoholic beer. I've been doing that for quite a while now. Since the record was completely done. I love to do things backwards, go out on a tour and kill myself, write and record, and then I hit a brick wall. I've been waking up for years looking in the mirror and thinking, "I've got to put the bottle down." One day I looked in the mirror and said, "If I was the bottle I'd put me down." It was very evident that I had run my course. I can't promise and I can't say what the future holds, but I would like to do it sober. We could have a cup of coffee next time.
MUSICIAN: Well, good luck, Paul. I hope this record goes through the roof
WESTERBERG: Or the window.
SOUNDS I bought a Guild 12 sting acoustic that was on most of the songs. The title for your piece could be 'Paul Bought an Acoustic': You can hear it all over the album; I played dulcimer on a few things, I played a Roland on 'Merry Go Round.' I've got a red Les Paul Junior which is my main rockin' axe, and I played a black Rickenbacker on some of the quieter stuff. Some kid in Pennsylvania gave it to me. I broke my guitar and he ran across the street and gave me his. Realy nice of him. For amps I used Marshalls, mainly. I played a Melody Maker through a Soldano on 'My little Problem' for that biting '90s tone."
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sivad
Star Scout
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Post by sivad on Jan 6, 2011 11:39:05 GMT -5
This is great, FreeRider. Thank you so much for sharing!
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Squaw
Star Scout
You're the only one that you are screwin' when you put down what you don't understand~ Kristofferson
Posts: 544
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Post by Squaw on Jan 6, 2011 14:57:14 GMT -5
Great article FreeRider!
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 10, 2011 12:42:31 GMT -5
Title: PAUL WESTERBERG , By: Wild, David, Rolling Stone, 0035791X, 11/17/94, Issue 695
SIPPING GINGER ALE in a Minneapolis hotel bar, Paul Westerberg breaks the bad news: The Replacements have really broken up. Sure, it's already been four years since that highly influential band's last album (All Shook Down), and it's been more than a year since Westerberg the group's singer/songwriter, released his solo debut (14 Songs). The post-punk poet laureate behind "Unsatisfied," "I Will Dare," "Can't Hardly Wait" and "Achin" to Be," Westerberg is now a sober, thoughtful 34-year-old. His band, which once made quite an art out of filling apart in public, is now truly history.
"Just yesterday," Westerberg says, "my lawyer called me up and said that Tommy [Stinson] finally had his lawyer send a pink slip saying he is officially out of the band. So now, as of today, the Mats are officially broken up."
Though he's taking a break from writing songs for his second solo album, he still seems very much in touch with some of the feelings from those not-so-good old days. "I was like 'You fucker, who said you could quit? You're fired?'" The Replacements eventually became a model for a lot of bands that followed.
Did the Mats have a model when you stated out?
Vaguely. It changed from month to month. There was a period when we'd want to be a cross between the Damned and Rockpile, We liked rockabilly, and we wanted to be sort of old-timey rock & roll, but the songs we were writing were kind of pop. And sonically we were pretty fast and loud -- Bob [Stinson] loved the Damned and all the English punk bands. So we were a mixture of all that stuff.
What did you make of punk at first?
I loved it I don' t love it so much now. I can go back and still listen to the Pistols record, but I have a hard time listening to, say, the Damned or the Jam.
Did you respond to it musically or politically?
It wasn't the lyrics at all.
So you weren't pissed off at the queen?
Exactly. That stuff didn't mean anything to a kid who grew up in the Midwest The truth is that the only politics any of us ever cared about was the politics of being cool. With punk, it was like Black Sabbath, but they weren't singing about iron, mystical, weird shit. It was "fuck you" and "fuck that," and we loved that.
Is it fair to say that the Replacements were alternative when alternative still meant something?
I think in our earnestness we were trying in our way to be commercial rather than being a band who was really talented and chose to play avant-garde. And I think that came across. There was sincerity there: We couldn't tune, we couldn't play, and we did not care.
So it's not like you were celebrating primitivism.
Exactly. We were trying to play as best we could.
Early on, people were talking about the Mats as part of the Minneapolis scene, comparing you with bands like Husker Du, the Suburbs and Soul Asylum.
Yeah. In fact, that was pretty much the scene right there. The Suburbs were there when we started, and to this day they can reform and they're bigger stare The first shot of punk -- the Ramones and the Pistols -- was on the wane when we started, so everything was either skinny ties with pop tunes or out-and-out art noise.
You mean to tell me the Replacements were actually trying to be the Romantics?
Probably we were, but our talents were rooted closer to the Slits [laughs]. But the scene was split between those two camps: pop or noise. We were in the middle. Husker Du leaned a little more toward the noise end of things. Soul Asylum came a little later.
How did you react to their success?
At the time it stung a little. But I'm glad for them because they slugged it out in the same alleys that we did, and they stayed around just long enough.
What about the other Minneapolis scene with Prince at the center?
I was influenced as much by that stuff as by the other side. I mean, that guy could write some songs.
Did you have much communication with him?
He would stick his head in on occasion. But Prince, I think, said two words to me in lO years. One was hi, the other was life.
Life?
I asked him, "What's up?"
Did you always feel a little "Left of the Dial"?
Always. Even toward the end. If our music wasn't as ferocious as the next wave that would come up, we felt alienated from them, too. So we were an alternative to the alternative as well as an alternative to the mainstream. We never found our niche, Maybe we were just a little too afraid, looking over our shoulders, thinking 'Is it cool to have a big record?" And our managers encouraged our high jinks more than they encouraged us to straighten up and fly right We were a real band of the '80s. We lasted literally from the dawn of 1980 to the dawn of 1990.
A lot of people did connect to your songs, though.
They hooked up with the thread of my songs, which is about some kind of alienation. When you're growing up, you look for anyone you can side with. They see me as someone who has gone through it -- or is still gong through it -- and is able to carry on. The thing is, I don' t have any answers, which is always disheartening, . . . I don't really want to talk about this, but there was this kid who was depressed, and he found the Mats and my record, and I guess it meant something to him. He went on television and talked about it. But to make a long story short, he ended up killing himself. And they buried him in my T-shirt. That's obviously an extreme.
What was your first reaction when you head about Kurt Cobain's death?
My old manager called, and my first reaction was slight relief, because he said, "Have you heard the news?" And I immediately thought it was someone else I knew who was dead. And when he said it was Kurt, my first reaction was "Well, at least it wasn't Tommy." But then I felt great sadness. I never knew him, but any time someone reaches that extreme, it's a tragedy. But it should be left at that. To immortalize it or glorify it is a crime.
You're 34. Does rock & roll still make a difference to your generation?
I don't know who my generation is anymore. I feel too old to hang out with the kids who make rock & roll, but I don't fit in with the settled-down people my age, Technically, my generation should be married with children, with a home and stable future. And I know I don't have all that stuff.
Do you ever fear rock & roll is dead?
Never. I never thought of rock & roll as this big cultural thing and worried about the state of it and all. Its, like, just plug that fucking guitar in and give me a backbeat, and it lives.
By DAVID WILD/ Content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use. Source: Rolling Stone, 11/17/94 Issue 695, p106, 2p
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Post by wecantgetanybetter on Jan 10, 2011 14:06:05 GMT -5
I always loved that question, "so you're not pissed off at the queen?"
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 10, 2011 16:16:27 GMT -5
ha, yeah...funny how apolitical the band was. and so far, it seems like he's held true to that, not making any political statements in his music.
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 11, 2011 12:22:06 GMT -5
LA Weekly: Feb 26- March 4, 1999 Paul Westerberg's basement tapes by Joe Donnelly
Before you head out the door to meet Paul Westerberg for dinner, you might want to skip reading the liner notes to All for Nothing/Nothing for All, the 1997 Replacements compilation of near misses and never-meant-to-be's. Otherwise you could end up sitting at the bar dripping tears of nostalgia into your near beer as you wait for your man to show
Not to overstate it, but the trip down memory lane spurred by those liner notes is not a particularly joyful one. For certain disaffected segments of the nameless generation that (along with the Replacements) came of age in the '80s, it's bittersweet at best. Bitter because it was the '80s and, well, you remember. Sweet because the Replacements weren't just a great band, they were also standard-bearers for those brave or stupid enough to rally around the notion that in some contexts being a loser is a noble pursuit. Or, to put it in musical terms, as Reagan and Bush ran roughshod over our collective soul, the Replacements threw up on their shoes and then rocked the house.
"We were there to upset the apple cart as quickly as we could," says the erstwhile leader of the Mats. "Immediately we knew we had to do as much damage as possible and go as far as we could, but it wasn't meant to last."
No, it wasn't. The Replacements blazed out at the beginning of the '90s just in time for a host of mostly lesser bands to make it big tapping them as a source. But as the final few years of this decade have made clear, the '80s are back and they're on steroids. Good old-fashioned powder cocaine is hip again, Wall Street is on a rampage, and consumer spending is up. Can spandex metal be far behind?
The good news is that Westerberg is back too, with a new album, Suicaine Gratification. Brutally honest and insistently forlorn, it is anchored by a handful of ballads that feature Westerberg's gut-wrenching vocals over spare, piano-driven arrangements that sound like a revelation even though the heartache feels painfully familiar. It's like a visit from an old friend who not only lived to tell the tale, but surprises you with new wisdom and confidence.
It's early evening on a recent Friday, and that old friend is sitting in a booth at a surprisingly trendy Hollywood eatery, taking to his salmon salad the way a kid takes to lima beans. He doesn't need much prodding to discuss the inspiration for an album that begins with the lines "I get up from a dream and I look for rain" and ends with "They say you were crushed like the petals of a flower between the pages of a novel, a long forgotten bookmark."
"About half of it was written in a two-week period," he says. "It was right after I came off the tour from the last record, and I just sort of sequestered myself. I didn't know if I wanted to even make a record, or whatever. It was almost a comfort thing. I went down to the piano because I didn't know what else to do. Stuff came pouring out because I got in a depression that, you know, just didn't let go. I rode it out. You can try to pick yourself up, but I was in the mood to sort of just wallow in it for a while. I just kind of lived in the basement and wrote and recorded."
Westerberg is wearing an earth-toned jacket over a natty shirt, sweater and tie. His famously unruly hair is cut and combed, but not quite tamed. Sober for many years now, he affects the demeanor of a curmudgeonly professor: He doesn't necessarily want to answer stupid questions, but if it helps you understand, he will lecture.
Does he see this album, his first for new label Capitol, as a more realized vision than his two previous solo records?
"Yeah, because I was obsessed with the one thought, or, for the lack of a better phrase, the darkness of it all. I mean, there's deep despair, but when you get so deep into despair, there's also beauty there, you know? This is like a serious, dark hole, and you find beauty . . . I went in deeper and deeper." Westerberg pauses and forks some salad toward his mouth like he's lifting a great weight. "Maybe the beauty was like a present or a gift or something, to say, 'Okay, you've suffered long enough, here's something to be proud of.'"
PRODUCER DON WAS SAYS WHEN HE FIRST HEARD the songs he was blown away by how consistently good they were. His challenge, he says, was to stay out of the way as much as possible and to encourage Westerberg to maintain the courage of his convictions.
"It's having the confidence to stand naked as yourself, as opposed to worrying about who you're letting down," Was says. "All it takes is some asshole in the bar to come up to you and say, 'What, are you turning into a p*ssy? Where's all the electric guitars?' To me [the album] represents him having enough courage to say, 'Here's how I am. Like it or lump it.'"
Which, in the end, is the album's greatest strength. When you listen to "Self-Defense," "Actor in the Street," "Sunrise Always Listens," "Born for Me" -- just a voice and an instrument or two -- you hear Paul Westerberg, not "Paul Westerberg, former leader of . . ." When it is suggested that the pared-down approach helps make this the Westerberg album that finally transcends the Replacements' catalog, he agrees to a point, but also sees the strands that connect these songs to his body of work.
"You know, they don't exist anymore, but I could play you cassette tapes from 1979 that I wrote in my mom and dad's basement on the acoustic guitar, and then I'd hop on the number 6 bus and go over to Bob and Tommy's house and we'd learn it. But before they ever heard it, it was that, and that's what this shit is," says Westerberg. "In a way, this is like 11 of what I would put on a record once. It's like 'Here Comes a Regular' and 'Answering Machine,' and every record had one of these. I'll even be fair and say it's like 10 of them. Maybe there's a rocker that's there for whatever reason."
One big difference is that the plaintive moments in the past were usually leavened by Westerberg's humor, as acerbic as it may have been. Not this time, though. It's as if he decided all at once he no longer needs to hide behind jokes or screaming guitars.
"There's no comic relief whatsoever. It was not really by design, but I could not come up with one single humorous statement. There's borderline whimsy, but there's nothing funny about this one. There's nothing at all humorous about it."
WESTERBERG SURRENDERS HIS PLATE TO AN EAGER busboy. During the meal, we've been attended to by just about everyone on staff. One wonders if he's been found out. Sure enough, as soon as he leaves for the bathroom, a 30ish waiter angles up to ask if Paul Westerberg is actually in the house. When his suspicions are confirmed, he gushes that his girlfriend is a huge Replacements fan. I tell the waiter that Westerberg has a new record coming out. "Is it good?" he asks. "Yeah, it's really good," I reply. "Oh, great," he says, genuinely pleased. "I can't wait to tell her. What's it called?"
The interlude is a reminder that Westerberg's legacy casts a long shadow. When he returns he is asked if it's difficult living with his past.
"See, I don't perceive it. I've gone to great lengths to not picture myself as something . . ." He stops suddenly and shifts gears, leaning forward to make his point. "I mean, I know how good I am. You're at a certain level and you know that you're the shit. I know it. My ego isn't fragile. But I still work harder than ever to weed out the crap. I mean, I know it now when it's false. And it's really simple, because it's usually your first thought if you're in the right mood. It's right and correct. Then you judge, is this worthy of a song? If it isn't, you throw it away. If it is, you go with it.
"And then, later, you realize that 'Oh, man, if I put this out, I'm gonna hurt somebody's feelings, and somebody's gonna think I'm a suicidal junkie, and somebody's gonna think this and that,' and it's like, 'Fuck 'em.' Are you an artist or not? You just have to do what you do."
With that, Westerberg steps outside to smoke a thin cigar. He looks pretty good in his nice, grown-up clothes, all ready to fall on his sword again. And he makes you want to smile once more for the noble losers.
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 17, 2011 14:31:20 GMT -5
Damn, I don't have the entire interview and I don't know where this quote, that I apparently saved, came from. I have no way to source this but I thought this was interesting:
"If it sounds like Westerberg's more than proud of his legacy, it's because he is. When asked if he keeps up with musical trends, he says, "if anything, I go backwards" because "anything contemporary just gets in the way." His defense is simply that the Replacements' songwriting skills still stand up, even above the Midwest's finest proto-alternative rock acts of those bygone days.
"For all our antics and plaid shirts and rubbish, we had songs," he says. "Bands come and go; songs are forever. There's a difference. Hüsker Dü were hipper and cooler and faster and louder, but that stuff comes and goes with Limp Bizkit and whoever the flavor of the week is. Songs is what people wanna hear."
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 18, 2011 17:15:30 GMT -5
From the LA New Times: www.newtimesla.com/issues/2002-4-25/music.html/1/index.htmlOff the 'Mats No, the Replacements aren't getting back together. Yet. BY BILL HOLDSHIP "I sort of became a recluse": Westerberg spent three years making music in his basement. Most people in bands don't drink if they're serious and professional," Bono testified during Peter Buck's recent air rage trial -- and anyone who understands how absurd the words serious and professional are in connection to rock 'n' roll may also understand why the Replacements -- and not U2 or R.E.M. -- were the greatest rock 'n' roll band of the 1980s. Which would explain why the rumors were so appealing -- and so rampant -- when they started making the rounds in February and March. "Replacements reunion at South by Southwest!" read one of many such e-mails circulating in the weeks prior to the Austin music festival. "Paul, Tommy, Slim Dunlap and an unknown drummer with Dave Pirner from Soul Asylum!" For a core group of Replacements fans, the idea of a full-fledged 'Mats reunion is second (if at all) only to that impossible dream of the Beatles getting back together. But, alas, it wasn't to be. Nor was the more recent (and less exciting) rumor that leader Paul Westerberg would be joining Pirner and former Hüsker Dü leader Bob Mould on a sort of Minneapolis Super Postpunk tour. What is true is that Westerberg has embarked on his first-ever solo acoustic tour, performing free shows at record stores throughout the United States to support his first new album in three years, Stereo. The new album -- which comes packaged with a second CD, Mono, performed by Westerberg's currently more rockin' alter ego Grandpa Boy and released via the L.A.-based, punk-heavy indie label Vagrant -- is obviously what triggered all those hopeful reunion rumors in the first place. Except it wasn't completely a rumor. Sitting in a West Hollywood hotel bar, nursing a ginger ale, Westerberg admits that he did talk to Replacements bassist Tommy Stinson about joining him on a Midwest tour in February that would go to the same cities Buddy Holly was scheduled to play before his tragic 1959 plane crash. "The idea was sort of, it would be the revenge of Grandpa Boy arising from the grave," he says. "So I called Tommy [and said], "Can I tell you this is the stupidest thing I've ever thought of?' And he was like "Yeah!' His word was gold. Because Tommy knows my stupid ideas and he knows my stupid ideas that are potentially brilliant. Unfortunately, he called me back two days later and said he couldn't do it because his cohort [Axl Rose] needed him. So the idea lasted about half a minute. Dave Pirner did want to be part of it, but that thing's come and gone. Now I'm thinking of putting a band together that's a little more versatile than a bar band. But I figured at that time, if it was to be a bar band, it would have to be with Tommy. "Ah, Dave Pirner gets too much ink," Westerberg says of the other rumor, the one that had him, Pirner and Mould about to board a tour bus together. "I also just heard that I played great guitar with Dylan at the Grammys! "It's funny. By not doing anything, I'm as hot as I've been in 10 years. So do I want to ruin that by going out and doing stuff? But hell, I am. I'm talking to people. My picture is being taken. I'm alive. And I do live on a farm. I have one lung. I have AIDS. And I am a junkie." He laughs. "These are the ones that I love, that I covet the most. "The truth is, I was sick of it," Westerberg says of his career, "and I ran out of dough. So what did I do to entertain myself? I wrote a shitload of songs. When I made that last record [his third solo LP, 1999's Suicaine Gratifaction], I felt it was the end of something. I, of course, also had the pleasure of turning 40 on the last day of the century, and I really felt like "Well, that was that?' So I went home and waited for phase two to transpire, and nothing happened. I waited and waited for an idea -- and the idea became loud and clear: "Go out and buy a new guitar!' So I went out and bought a red one that looked really cool, and went down in the basement and played rock 'n' roll for three years. "I lost contact with everyone, sort of became a recluse. I also had a little boy" -- with longtime partner Laurie Lindeen, formerly of the Minneapolis rock trio Zuzu's Petals -- "although more has been made of that than should be." Westerberg may protest a bit too much. The new album kicks off with a track called "Baby Learns to Crawl." "Mr. Rabbit" is a Burl Ives song from one of Westerberg's son's favorite albums. And "We May Be the Ones" concludes with an appearance by three-year-old Johnny (as in John Paul) Westerberg, whose favorite song, his dad boasts, is currently the New York Dolls' "Trash." "But regardless of whether I had a child, or was married, or whatever, I still would've sat alone in a house for three years," he explains. "I was sick of it and I didn't want to play rock 'n' roll for people anymore. I was true to my word. I always said when it wasn't fun anymore, I'd quit. "It wasn't fun. I quit." After about 80 songs, Westerberg finally ran out of tape, which is what "finally got me off my ass." Rather than erasing material, he contacted friend Darren Hill (who played bass on the 14 Songs tour as well as with the Red Rockers and who now acts as Westerberg's de facto manager) and asked him if he wanted to take a listen. "Darren knew Rich [Egan] at Vagrant, and the idea of going back to a little label sounded kinda cool. [The rep for] being difficult is well-warranted, in my case. I am. I confess. I admit it now. I really couldn't see it at the time. But the truth is I'm really not equipped to do certain things that a big corporation requires you to do. And the Replacements were never equipped to do that. "Plus, the record probably cost me $1,000 to make. So whatever deal I made this time was the best deal -- times 300 -- I've ever made. Also," he laughs, "everyone [at the label] is 10 to 15 years younger than me so they actually listen to what I say!" The Father of Grunge, as he's often been described, says he's been jamming with a band that includes a steel guitar player, top Minneapolis jazz drummer Michael Bland, and bassist Jim Boquist of Son Volt -- but nothing's written in stone yet. "We have a country-folk thing going on the bass, this powerhouse R&B drummer, and I'm playing shitty little Keith Richard chords. It's different. And it doesn't sound anything like the Burritos," says the guy the Brits have credited as one of the fathers of alt-country/Americana (and who laughs when Ryan Adams' name is mentioned: "Well, my first idea was to say somebody should probably kick his teeth down his throat"). As for breaking up what many consider to be the most influential rock band of the '80s, Westerberg remains unapologetic. "It was obviously the right thing to do," he says in response to some fans and critics who viewed it as almost a betrayal. "I think the real fans knew it was time. And let's face it, the real fans are pretty old now. I mean, the ones who never saw it will never see it again. Because even if we got together, we could never be it. "But I've got a lot of interesting
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 19, 2011 12:07:40 GMT -5
FORMER ANGRY YOUNG MAN NOW A BIT AMUSED PAUL WESTERBERG WEARS THE CROWN OF POP PUNK KING VERY RELUCTANTLY By AMY LINDEN NY Daily News Monday, May 6th 1996, 2:00AM
PAUL WESTERBERG poster boy for rock 'n' roll debauchery (Midwest division) when he led one of the great bands of the '80s, the Replacements is a legend at the age of 36.
Not just that, but he's considered influential. Westerberg and the Mats singlehandedly created the heart-on-the-sleeve, beer-in-the-hand pop punk that now rules MTV. Nirvana, the Goo Goo Dolls, Everclear. You name 'em and the rowdy, chaotic strains of Westerberg's band can be heard.
Sober for several years now and very content, Westerberg remains a reluctant cult idol and is wary of all the young dudes upon whom he has had a profound impact.
"It was daring for us to do what we did, but it was also natural," he says. "Is it daring for bands to do that now? Is it even natural? I don't know. I hear a lot of good songs, but I smell a lot of phonies in the ranks." He smiles knowingly.
These days, Westerberg has "matured," moving beyond the rage and passion he articulated with the Mats. Those same emotions are evident, but in more modulated forms, on "Eventually," Westerberg's second solo effort, which has just come out. "It's always songs about pop and love," he says, "but your idea of love at 19 and at 36 is usually a little different."
Then he adds, with a wry chuckle, "I'm doing the same thing, he laughs. You'd think I'd wise up."
Despite good reviews, some die-hard fans and critics grumble that "Eventually's" musings about life, love and the small things that make up the big picture aren't edgy enough. That the album doesn't have the guitar (and alcohol) fueled bash and bang that was the foundation of the Mats' sound. That, heaven forbid, the guy has gone all mushy.
Westerberg has a very blunt response. "F--them. You know what? I feel like I don't have to respond to that. I feel liberated."
When asked how he's grown beyond his punk years, Westerberg begs to differ with the question. "I don't think the Replacements were ever punks, and I'm not saying that just to save my a-at the 11th hour.
"I wrote pop songs and we wanted to be a pop band . . . ," he laughs. "We just weren't any good."
Fans would disagree with that judgment, as would some of today's alterna-rockers. At this late date, Westerberg deals with the epic reputation of the Replacements in a straightforward way.
"Look, I'm glad I was in the band that I was in at the time," he says, "as opposed to selling 9 million records and having my career being over in three years. I'm happy to be in my mid-30s and still making records."
(Linden is a freelance writer.)
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sivad
Star Scout
Posts: 323
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Post by sivad on Jan 19, 2011 13:56:53 GMT -5
FreeRider, you have a treasure trove of these! Thanks
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 25, 2011 12:30:54 GMT -5
StarPolish Interview: Paul Westerberg Nick Krewen — Friday, August 02, 2002
Paul Westerberg
Described by The Trouser Press Record Guide as "the most important and compelling American punk-rock voice of the '80s," Paul Westerberg has seen his share of ups and downs. As singer and songwriter for Minneapolis garage rockers The Replacements, Westerberg served as a poster boy for alcoholic dysfunction, his ironic self-abuse anchoring seven albums of mesmerizing and sloppy rock "n" roll before The Replacements imploded onstage in 1991.
Westerberg's influence on Nirvana and the whole grunge scene is unquestioned, and his music still reverberates within the seams of today's punk and emo-core movements. After three poorly received albums on major labels, the now-sober Westerberg spent two years at home in his basement studio before re-emerging in April with what many consider to be his finest and most focused opus -- his acoustic-and-electric double CD, Stereo/Mono, which was recorded for $1,000 and licensed to Los Angeles-based indie label Vagrant for a reported $150,000.
Recently, StarPolish contributor Nick Krewen spoke to Westerberg over the phone at his Minneapolis home about the difference between major and independent record companies, the marriage of art and commerce, and starting anew.
STARPOLISH: You've recorded for Sire, Reprise and Capitol before declaring your independence with Vagrant. Are you happy to be off a major a label?
WESTERBERG: Yes. It's interesting that you used the word "independence" rather than "independent," because it truly does clarify that I am free and independent to do anything that I want now. Whereas on a major label there were certain restrictions where they'd give you a certain amount of money and they'd expect you to spend all of it whether it was necessary or not. I made this record for very cheap, and it sounds as good as a lot of them where we spent 20 times the money. I've been on an independent label (Twin Tone). Then I was on a major label. Now I'm on an independent label-- we'll see what happens in the end if this thing sells or not. I've stunk on both. I've not sold records on both.
STARPOLISH: Record companies often finance CDs to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars, and then add millions more toward marketing. Do you think that's excessive?
WESTERBERG: Once it gets out of my hands, I don't understand how the marketing schemes work. All I know is I made this record and pretty much licensed it to a company and had them release it. It wasn't like I had an A&R (artists-and-repertoire) man who came in and gave me input. There was no input from anyone else, so that's something I don't want to lose control of ever again. Because I had it certainly when I started. Then A&R people and producers came in with ideas, and I got a little bit lost. I think I sort of rediscovered my original root. But if you're gonna sell one million records, you want to be on a major label. And if you're content with selling a couple hundred thousand doing exactly what you want to do, you find your own home with people you trust and like.
STARPOLISH: As an independent artist, you get a better royalty rate, so in some ways the ratio is better for you to do it this way.
WESTERBERG: I think so, because in the long run a record is forever. It isn't like a newspaper -- who wants to buy yesterday's news? I can still go into a record store and buy something that's on Chess that's owned by MCA that's owned by Universal or whatever. So that's the way I'm looking at it -- people are going to buy my records forever. Just because they don't make the Top 40 or Hot 100 -- I'm not worried because they stand the test of time better than the Johnny-Come-Lately who tops the charts and then is gone forever.
STARPOLISH: Do you think there were unrealistic sales expectations placed on you by the majors?
WESTERBERG: I think there was a time with The Replacements where we could have taken one step closer to being commercial like they wanted us, but that's sort of what tore the band apart. Half of the band wanted to, and half the band didn't, and half our audience left us. We were looking for a new audience and it tore us apart. I don't think we were ever meant to be that band. We weren't bad boys, but we were naughty boys. We just did not play by the rules.
STARPOLISH: Is artistry and commerce an ill-conceived marriage, especially in terms of the relationship between corporate record companies and creative artists?
WESTERBERG: My theory of why The Replacements were signed [to Sire] in the first place was simply because they thought someone else was going to sign us. It's the safety net factor. We don't know what to do with these guys, but if we let someone else take them, someone else will probably find the golden egg. I think we were picked up to be taken away from Columbia. The funny thing is, they wanted us to tone down. Then Nirvana and everything exploded, and suddenly it was like, "Why don't you guys go back and be like that?" I said to them, "We invented that! What are you talking about? Were moving towards country music now!" It's leverage debt. They want something safe to happen, and then they want to imitate it. That never changes. The beauty of an independent label is that you do get possibly slightly naïve people, but their hearts are always in the right place. And a guy like [Vagrant president] Rick Egan is a nice mix of both. I wouldn't call him naïve, and I wouldn't call him jaded yet - -he's young, he's 32. I'm 42, so we make a nice team.
STARPOLISH: Do you miss the marketing dollars a major label pumps into your career?
WESTERBERG: The beauty is that I believe that Vagrant is connected to Interscope, which is connected to Universal, so in the end I think if I went into the right offices and said "Push the buttons," they could send me as high as anyone. It's not a question of backing. With so many artists, you're almost better off on an independent label that has the available muscle if you need it. I was interested in certainly doing more songs for films and stuff, and that helps being part of the Universal chain. So are they truly independent? I don't know.
STARPOLISH: Have you used the Internet to boost your profile, as so many other artists have done?
WESTERBERG: I don't bother with it at all. To me it's just a quagmire that gives me a heAdache, makes my head spin. I don't even like computer-animated television cartoons. I watch them with my son and they give me a headache.
STARPOLISH: What future challenges do you feel you're facing? In a perfect world, would people hear the name "Paul Westerberg" and rush out and buy 10 million albums?
WESTERBERG: I'd rather have respect from my peers and those in the know than be a household name. I never wanted celebrity. Infamy was something else. I wanted to make my mark and I have. I want to continue to write good songs and put on good shows. I'm just sticking to the basics. Sooner or later that will pay off in someone else's terms, hopefully: "Well give him an award because he's still alive and it'll look good on Grandma or Grandpa's mantle." But that's never been the carrot I was chasing.
STARPOLISH: I imagine that one of the carrots youve been chasing is survival?
WESTERBERG: I've written well over 100 songs. There's certainly one or two that could be redone by other artists, and I know a few artists have covered my songs in the past, which I appreciate, but I still think that one day that there's a blockbuster laying there just waiting to be heard.
STARPOLISH: If your association with Vagrant doesn't continue, what's your next step?
WESTERBERG: I've never worried about it, and I shouldn't worry about it now. I came closest to worrying about it this time, but the only reason I even made a deal with an independent company was because I ran out of tape. I was recording so much stuff I was starting to erase it. I figured, "OK, it was time for me to get rid of some of this junk." It's as simple as that. I take a very carefree attitude toward what I do. I have faith in my art. Everything else Im not sure of, but I don't have a fear that I'll dry up and not know how to create.
STARPOLISH: How has the music business changed since you began?
WESTERBERG: Everyone's younger. Both, actually. It's funny coming into a label where I'm like the grand old man. Vagrant has five or six other bands on it, but half of them certainly sound like old Replacements in a way, and I'm looked upon as some senior citizen. I'm perfectly comfortable with that. I love their youthful enthusiasm. It's a lot harder for them to trick me or pull the wool Over my eyes. I've learned a trick or two. I've been screwed a thousand times, so I can smell it when its coming. I can even give them a tip now and then when somebody's trying to bamboozle us. I prefer it this way, actually.
STARPOLISH: Tips such as...
WESTERBERG: If somebody says something is good, that means it was shit. If somebody said it was unbelievable, that means it was pretty good. That's standard for performance. And if they tell you it's sold out, that means it isn't. How do you know a promoters lying? His lips are moving. And if a photographer takes you outdoors, they want to take a picture of something else other than you.
STARPOLISH: Is there anything you would have done differently in hindsight?
WESTERBERG: We were not ignorant, and we were not smart or savvy, but we had the brains -- I had the brains; we did not sign anything with our first independent label (Twin Tone). Nor did I sign anything when it was licensed over to someone else. So at this point now I'm going to contest the validity of what they're calling a contract, because I had a lawyer advise me when I was 19 years old not to sign it, and I didn't. So I've never signed anything. Their claim will be that they poured all their resources into promoting the band, and that may be well true, but I think they probably made their money tenfold by now, and it's about time they cough up.
STARPOLISH: So youre hoping to get the early Replacements master recordings back?
WESTERBERG: I'm hoping that the people who are releasing the records either give me a fair deal or give me the records back. They don't have a contract with my name on it.
STARPOLISH: Do you have a timetable in your mind for sorting this out?
WESTERBERG: I don't worry about it. If I put too much thought to that, I'll start worrying in the wrong direction. I talked to the lawyers and they said, "Well, why didn't you bring this up 10 years ago?" And I said, "Well, 10 years ago I was on tour and writing songs and doing my job. I was being a performer." It's still the same today. It's not my job to sit down and fight these legal things. I'm not made of that kind of material. But I knew something was rotten to begin with and we'll take care of it in the end. I threw half the tapes in the river anyway.
STARPOLISH: So the musician is still as the bottom of the food chain. Do you see that ever changing?
WESTERBERG: If you're talking about dollars, it's always been the case. It's always been the managers and the handlers and the publishers -- the ones who don't play the instruments -- who make the money. The artist gets the bitch goddess albatross: success and applause. You get laid and you get your drugs and your hotel rooms and your sweet death all alone -- it hasn't changed a hell of a lot from back when it began. Maybe performers are more self-contained, producing and recording and writing their own material like I have-- maybe that might help a little bit. But in the end, there's always somebody that comes between you and the audience that has to get the music to them, and you have to roll the dice and let it go. If you get screwed, you get screwed.
STARPOLISH: Can a recording artist make a living today if they don't have a distribution system in place?
WESTERBERG: If they're good enough. You could play the major label game, and you've just got to be aware that they're going to throw you away as soon as they're done with you. But they'll love you when you're on the top, and it's much more comfortable to be on a level where they're not expecting you to be the cornerstone of the company. If you've got the talent, you're a damn fool not to go for it. I wouldn't tell the most talented person in the world to stand back and do it yourself. Take care of your art and your music and make sure you look good. Seriously. That's more important than any of this other shit. It's still rock "n" roll. Let someone else count the beans.
STARPOLISH: Is Vagrant distributing Stereo/Mono all over the world?
WESTERBERG: For all I know, it's probably not in my own city. I was selling them out of boxes for my Minneapolis gig. For as much as I know, someone else is distributing them in England. I believe [it's] Universal in Canada. That's the kind of stuff I don't even care about anymore. That falls to a detail of a scratch on a guitar to me. It's inconsequential to my music.
STARPOLISH: Have you broken even? You spent only $1,000 to record the new album.
WESTERBERG: Yeah, I've already broken even. This is a thought process that I never use. I've never gone into making a record thinking about money, or how much money a record's going to make or generate, because I'm used to it not generating money. The only money I'm used to seeing is money that comes from performance royalty via radio, television or movies. You're talking on one hand to the wrong guy, who has never really charted with a big record. I was thinking the other day before John Entwistle died, Why is Pete Townshend going out with the Who? Does he need the money? Or is he doing this just for John and Roger Daltrey]? You never know. You never know how much money he's made. You never know how much he owes, or how much money somebody invested for him poorly. I know people who think that I'm a zillionaire, and it's not true. People think you're up there on stage and you're loaded. If everybody knew the truth, a limousine doesn't mean wealth.
STARPOLISH: What would advice would you give to someone who has their own rock "n" roll dream?
WESTERBERG: If you believe in your heart that you've got it, then go for it and let nothing stop you. But if you're going from your brain, then maybe you're better off being a manager. I wouldn't pay a dime to see you.
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sivad
Star Scout
Posts: 323
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Post by sivad on Jan 25, 2011 16:34:57 GMT -5
Gotta love his attitude
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