ih8music
Star Scout
couldn't be happier.
Posts: 943
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Post by ih8music on Jul 27, 2011 18:38:18 GMT -5
I'll play devil's advocate on this one, as I was the music editor of a local indie rag throughout the 80's. I'm not denying that some of the articles printed here are so-so, or the questions are not always the best. You do have to remember the obvious fact, though, that not everybody worships him like we do. Most of these articles appear to be advance promotion of a show, and the paper's staff music writer had the gig. These articles are attempts to convince people who aren't fans to attend the show; they're not deep discussions for hardcore fans to devour. Even if they are a fan, they don't necessarily have access to every article written around that time...and it is a bit nerve-shattering to talk to an artist you respect. There's also the reality that even when a writer knows they're asking a question that others have queried, they do have a desire to have their own quote. Interviews aren't as easy as one would believe. Good writers are always attempting to create new ways to present an artist's comments. One of the main reasons that I put my podcast guests in charge of the playlist is to have other topics to talk about besides their own careers. Great insight. So, hypothetically, if you were to get a call from Darren Hill that Paul has agreed to be on your show -- after regaining consciousness , how would you approach the interview?
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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 Jul 27, 2011 21:31:00 GMT -5
I'll play devil's advocate on this one, as I was the music editor of a local indie rag throughout the 80's. I'm not denying that some of the articles printed here are so-so, or the questions are not always the best. You do have to remember the obvious fact, though, that not everybody worships him like we do. Most of these articles appear to be advance promotion of a show, and the paper's staff music writer had the gig. These articles are attempts to convince people who aren't fans to attend the show; they're not deep discussions for hardcore fans to devour. Even if they are a fan, they don't necessarily have access to every article written around that time...and it is a bit nerve-shattering to talk to an artist you respect. There's also the reality that even when a writer knows they're asking a question that others have queried, they do have a desire to have their own quote. Interviews aren't as easy as one would believe. Good writers are always attempting to create new ways to present an artist's comments. One of the main reasons that I put my podcast guests in charge of the playlist is to have other topics to talk about besides their own careers. I agree with you. My comments were not directed toward the person who is just doing their job. I was thinking about neighbors and fans who may run in to him now and then. I'm sure when he is promoting a project he expects many of the questions he gets.
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Post by hudson99 on Jul 28, 2011 8:06:19 GMT -5
Great insight. So, hypothetically, if you were to get a call from Darren Hill that Paul has agreed to be on your show -- after regaining consciousness , how would you approach the interview? Great question. I generally would start with a couple of safe questions to get a sense as to the mood of who I'm interviewing. Influences, or first music loves...that kind of thing. If they don't seem too interested in reliving the past, I'd probably throw in a "I know you get inundated w/Replacements questions, but I have to get a couple out there". If the reception is somewhat positive, I'd probably carry on a bit more. The current release is always the focus (and reason) for the interview, so the majority of questions will go that direction. I did interview Tommy a few weeks before he played in town with Bash and Pop, and I asked very few Replacements questions to him. It was just too soon after the breakup, and I could tell he was leery of discussing it.
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Post by FreeRider on Jul 28, 2011 11:07:53 GMT -5
hudson99,
thanks for presenting the insights into conducting an interview. And you're right, a lot of the interviews posted here are of the promotional variety, to get people into the clubs. I think you're definitely right in that the interviewer has to get a sense from the person as to what mood they are in.
I guess I was thinking along the lines of the worn out question of, "Are the Replacements ever going to get back together?" but it makes sense to me that, now that you pointed it out, that the reporter wants his/her own quote.
As for me? I'm not sure what I'd ask him if I had the chance. The questions would also depend on what the interview was for, wouldn't it? It might be different, you know, if you just got to talk to him not for publication but if you were both seated next to each other on a long plane flight, just having a normal conversation. Perhaps I'd ask him:
- what he's been reading lately and who his favorite authors are and find out why a certain book or author moves him.
-what other medium, apart from music, he has affinity for, where else can he express himself
-how important is art to people's lives? what should it do, if anything (apart from the entertainment aspect)? what has he learned as a performing artist? his thoughts on the fans strong affection for him and his relationship to them.
- his thoughts on creativity, where it comes from. if he has music and musical ideas going thru his head all the time, where does that come from, what's it like to have such a gift?
- sports related questions. who are his fave baseball players or sports heroes? any favorite baseball memories or memorable games? any funny stories from his little league days? any interesting hockey stories?
- who or what inspires him? does that inspiration always lead to music output or does it take another form of expression?
I think I'd try not to get too into what this song meant or get into his music career.
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Post by TomT on Jul 29, 2011 6:52:51 GMT -5
Freerider just want to say thanks for posting all these interviews. I've spent more time than I should have in reliving that stuff.
I'd ask Paul how he's handling a subpar year from the Twins (his favorite baseball team). I'd also ask him if he ever had a desire to put out a book.
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timsch
First Class Scout
soothes the savage beast
Posts: 190
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Post by timsch on Jul 29, 2011 12:58:16 GMT -5
I'd ask him if could describe what it felt like the first night that he fronted the replacements in front of a packed house. Does he have any special feeling when he finishes a song that later goes on to be a classic. In other words,can he feel the difference between something he has written that is monumental vs something that is considered more of a throw away. What does that feel like? I'd tell him that I was asking him this because I believe that most people live vicariously through music. They put themselves in the position of the writer and his narrative and too try and gain insight about the writer, it would be interesting to know how he felt at pivotal moments. Of course he'd probably tell me to fuck off, but it would be worth asking.
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Post by FreeRider on Jul 31, 2011 17:51:54 GMT -5
Freerider just want to say thanks for posting all these interviews. I've spent more time than I should have in reliving that stuff..... you're welcome....I like re-reading some of these and going over the new ones as well. See, the thing is, this is the best way to get to know Paul---thru his own words. I'm particularly interested in these because a good interview will reveal something about the subject. And there's a LOT that gets revealed about Paul. For one thing, Paul is almost too candid at times. And yet, he also has lets out these gems in these interviews, there are some really revealing things about the business and about his craft. And given his contradictory ways, you have to take what he says with a grain of salt. But what I take away from all of this is that Paul is a very complex person. What you see is NOT always what you get from this guy. He has a very strong personal value system and he is someone who is committed to staying true to himself. That is what I get out of a lot of these interviews.
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Post by FreeRider on Jul 31, 2011 17:55:12 GMT -5
I'd ask him if.... Does he have any special feeling when he finishes a song that later goes on to be a classic. In other words,can he feel the difference between something he has written that is monumental vs something that is considered more of a throw away. What does that feel like? hmmm, that's an interesting question. I wonder if he gets a sense for which ones the fans are going to like. ha! yeah, i think if you probed too deeply into how he felt, you'll get the big "fuck off". he has said in these interviews (or in the new ones I am going to post soon) that he doesn't like to discuss the work that much or overanalyze it. Kind of the way he doesn't like publishing lyric sheets for the CDs.
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Post by FreeRider on Aug 1, 2011 11:16:36 GMT -5
"Pop singer changes tune, has hit." Washington Times 27 July 1996: by Jeffrey Bukowski
MINNEAPOLIS -- Beneath the wry smile of Paul Westerberg lies the truth his fans long have feared.
''I never even liked punk music,'' he said, poking a straw into the ice in his ginger ale. ''I liked pop music and rock 'n' roll. We combined the two. The fact we were sort of louts made it authentic.''
As the drunken legend of the Replacements swirled around him, Westerberg gamely played along, ripping off slurred Hank Williams covers and adolescent anthems drenched in feedback. But the sensitive singer-songwriter in him was struggling to emerge.
At 36, Westerberg has made peace with a reputation earned by fronting the 'Mats, as the seminal '80s Minneapolis band came to be known. Critics still marvel at club gigs the foursome turned into alcoholic spectacles and the sweet lyricism they blended with their self-described ''power trash'' style.
Fans may stew over the former symbol of ripped-jeans rebellion awaking at dawn, rhapsodizing about trees and writing songs about parenthood, but he takes obvious delight in it.
''I've grown accustomed to the opposite of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle,'' Westerberg said. ''I wake up every morning, and I know where I am.''
Westerberg's second solo album, ''Eventually,'' is just out. As he nibbled bread in the booth of a tony restaurant overlooking one of his hometown's many lakes, talk centered on the stripped-down feel of the new record.
''I go with sort of an old-fashioned motto and creed that it's either simple or it's impossible,'' he said. ''If it doesn't come easy, and if it doesn't come fast, then it's usually wrong.''
Several of the 12 tracks derive from first or second takes, including ''Good Day,'' a piano-dominated ballad partly inspired by the death last year of former Replacements guitarist Bob Stinson. Late in the tune, its chorus, ''A good day is any day that you're alive'' is paired ironically with a classic Replacements line, ''Hold my life one last time.'' Westerberg hasn't lost the gift for coupling a winning lyric with a seductive melody: ''You've got a voice like the last day of Catholic school,'' he sings on ''You Ain't Got Me.''
The perception that Westerberg's music has become uninspired since he quit drinking bugs him.
''People are preoccupied with what they see as being sort of a landmark in someone's life or changing their music. There are so many little things that they never see. I can hear when I got a good acoustic guitar, when my songs started to sound different, or when I bought a new instrument, or when I stopped wearing a certain kind of clothes. It's a little more ordinary things than you would imagine.''
Some songwriters struggle with finally getting total control over an album after maturing within a collaborative setting. But to hear Westerberg tell it, he was born to go solo. ''It's better to go in and record, I think, without a band,'' he said. With a barely suppressed grin, he added, ''You're always getting more of me than you probably want. But there's less of anyone else's input on this record than ever.''
He's come to terms with the business side of his music.
''It's mine,'' he said. ''But when it's time to go do it, it is business. You can't just pretend it isn't. When somebody pays some money and wants to look up to you like you're something special, it's almost your responsibility to be like, "Hey, for tonight, I'll be your little star.' But I don't have to bring this home with me.''
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Post by brianlux on Aug 1, 2011 15:05:12 GMT -5
I really like all the question posted above that each of you would ask Paul in an interview. Because of my long and involved interest in books, the question regarding Paul's thoughts on favorite books and authors intrigues me. A list of Paul's favorite books would be very interesting to see. I would also be interested in knowing what Lauri Lindeen is doing these days in terms of writing/future books (though-- knowing Paul is very hesitant to talk about family matter-- I would not likely ask such a question.)
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Post by FreeRider on Aug 1, 2011 16:38:43 GMT -5
.... Because of my long and involved interest in books, the question regarding Paul's thoughts on favorite books and authors intrigues me. A list of Paul's favorite books would be very interesting to see. 14 FUN FACTS ABOUT MINNEAPOLIS, PAUL WESTERBERG, AND ME By Seth Mnookin 4) Current Westerberg reading material: How to Write, by Brenda Euland. "This woman who cut my hair recommended it to me. It was printed in 1938 and then reprinted in '83. It's really amazing; it's so incredibly straightforward." I'd be curious too as to what inspires him or what authors he enjoys. But I had never heard of Brenda Euland and then I looked her up. Turns out she was a native Minnesotan as well. And in looking at the reviews of her book, I would think her book, "If YOu Want to Write..." had a profound impact upon Paul. A look at the reviews on Amazon, it indicates it is not really a how-to book, but an encouragement of expressing yourself regardless of what anyone thinks and how one ought to live. She is quoted as writing: Try to discover your true, honest, un-theoretical self.One Amazon.com reviewer wrote: By far the two most memorable passages for me are the one in which she describes a time she was playing the piano and was told her playing wasn't "going anywhere." She then discusses the relationship that MUST exist between the artist and the person experiencing the art. (Her philosophy is strongly influenced by the observations of Tolstoy.) She points out that this relationship is necessary in order for us to produce meaningful art. The second passage that is extremely meaningful to me is related to the first passage. She describes the time Vincent Van Gogh wrote a letter to his brother and drew a tender image of a streetlight that he was looking at outside his window. The drawing is beautiful because it came out of his intense love for his brother and his desire to share something beautiful with him, not from a desire for recognition or fame. This is what Ueland means by authenticity, which she, like Blake, connects to the divine source existing within each individual. This suggests to me that Paul really took that to heart in terms of his craft. What do you think? Yes? No? Maybe?
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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 Aug 4, 2011 0:54:06 GMT -5
From the February 11-17, 1999 issue of MetroPaul Westerberg probes the pain of vulnerability on 'Suicaine Gratifaction'By Gina Arnold A FRIEND OF MINE was talking about an episode of Oprah she saw the other day. Apparently, Oprah had opined that all men fear vulnerability and rejection more than any other things on earth--and that they'll go to any length to avoid them, including suicide. "Do you think that's true?" she asked me wistfully, and I thought about the question for a moment. "Well, women don't like rejection either," I replied. "But it's way down on my list of fears. When it comes to rejection, I'm perfectly willing to contemplate it." So, too, is Paul Westerberg, king of vulnerability and lord of all the rejects, and that may explain my deep affection for him, as well as the fact that few men I know can listen to the one-time frontman of the Replacements with any degree of equanimity anymore. Indeed, his recent work seems to rub all guys the wrong way, and if Oprah's right, it's no wonder. Westerberg positively embraces vulnerability and then beckons rejection to come and take him on man-to-man, wrestling it to the ground while we, his fans, listen aghast to the battle. Perhaps that would explain why, to the majority of males, Westerberg's more introspective songs are almost as disturbing as their girlfriend's fateful words, "Honey, can we talk about our relationship?" EVEN PRIOR TO going solo, Westerberg was getting shit for being too sensitive--and that was the least of his problems. By the '90s, other bands had usurped the sound and emotional turf of the Replacements. 'Twasn't always thus, however. As the leader of the now legendary Replacements (1981-1991), Westerberg was much admired for his pugnacity and drunken wit. The guy could--and did--stand onstage and sing the want ads to the accompaniment of totally chaotic punk rock and make the experience a fun one for everyone involved. The Replacements were known for ripping up stages, destroying stupid songs and basically turning a rock & roll show into a kind of frenzy of excitement. Every night was different; every night was fantastic--for the audience, if not for the band. In short, in an era when its peers were grubbing around for money and power, the band rejected success with gesture upon gesture of deliberate self-sabotage, each gesture set to an ever-more catchy tune. Titles like "Hold My Life," "Can't Hardly Wait," "Unsatisfied" and "I Will Dare" pretty much expressed the band's whole approach. One result of their actions was that, in the course of their 10-year history, the Replacements occupied a unique place in the hearts of their fans. To the followers of the Replacements, Westerberg wasn't just a singer, he was an alter ego--and a symbol of profound personal integrity. His name was borrowed for the high school in the movie Heathers, because to some it signifies a lone cry for justice in a world of incredible angst. Such a role has its downside, however, for when Westerberg finally gave up drinking and started to grow up, some of these fans weren't quite ready to walk into adulthood with him--and neither were some of his band members. Founding member Bob Stinson passed away of a drug overdose in 1996. Bassist Tommy Stinson recently joined Guns N' Roses. Westerberg--the heart, voice and soul of the Replacements--went solo in 1992, but his first two solo LPs, 14 Songs and Eventually, were disappointments. He hadn't quite shaken off the memory of the Replacements, with the result that most of the songs on these albums sounded like toss-offs. And those that didn't--the piano ballad "Good Day," for instance--were greeted with dismay by listeners who couldn't quite grasp the concept of Westerberg as a balladeer. WESTERBERG'S THIRD record, Suicaine Gratifaction, his first on Capitol, is a different matter altogether. Although fans of his harder rocking earlier material are bound to squawk at the sound of Suicaine Gratifaction, the album is easily his best solo work yet. Produced by Don Was, it has a casual, even raw quality that well suits Westerberg's tone: some of the songs were recorded in his own home, many use very few instruments and all of them sound as if he has finally created a comfortable sonic world for himself. Musically, the album offers a more accomplished and assured world than previously; thematically, however, it is a sadder world--reflective, perhaps, of his recent diagnosis of bipolarism and turning to what he calls "psychopharmacology" for a cure. But pharmed out or not, Westerberg demonstrates that his outstanding personal characteristic is still self-deprecation, and that's a very unusual trait in rock music. What kind of a rock star is willing to call himself "overrated"? It's thoroughly unnatural--but that's Paul all over. "Don't pin your hopes or pin your dreams to misanthropes or guys like me," he sings on the record's opening number, "It's a Wonderful Lie," and his real belief in that statement--his inability to lie, even in a song--goes a long way to explaining who he is. The truth is, he has no faith in himself. "How am I looking? I don't want the truth. What am I doing? I ain't in my youth. I'm past my prime, or was that just a pose? It's a wonderful lie, and I still get by on those." Those are not the sentiments of your usual rock star, excepting Brian Wilson and Ray Davies, and frankly, they're not the kind of sentiments that most listeners can cope with in a song. If, however, self-doubt is a subject you can stand hearing about, then you'll love Suicaine Gratifaction. "Self-Defense" is an even more heart-wrenching song, played solo on piano. "Best Thing That Never Happened" actually does fall into the mire of self-pity that Westerberg's ethos is prone to--"Best Thing" is the record's one musically and lyrically turgid moment. But the next song up, "Lookin' Out Forever," one of only three rockers here, is a great one, as catchy as "Dyslexic Heart" (from the soundtrack to Singles) but a hell of a lot less snide. Replacements fans will also be happy to hear the revival of that slightly unintelligible singing style that gave records like Hootenanny and Let It Be their distinctiveness. (Who among us, for instance, really understood the line "Because liberty's a lie!" in "Unsatisfied" upon first hearing it? And when recognition finally dawned, didn't you just want to cry?) "Bookmark" is another song about a sad girl--the same one who starred in "Little Mascara" and "Merry Go Round" and "Sadly Beautiful" and the one Paul once said was himself. Westerberg has a real knack for writing about and for women: without being at all effeminate, his mind seems to run along feminine grooves. "Born for Me," a duet with Shawn Colvin, is another song in this vein but much more lyrically and musically accomplished than previous incarnations. "Fugitive Kind" and "Whatever Makes You Happy" are love songs of sorts. "Final Hurrah" has a plodding tempo and a slightly pedestrian tune, but the lyrics are good and so is the addition of a kazoo, a great example of this record's understated, yet imaginative, instrumentation. "Tears Rolling Up Our Sleeves" is another highlight, a gentle song about romantic illusions and good intentions that exposes the downside of both. The album is notably lacking in the kind of double entendres and quips that pepper Westerberg's earlier work, but "To be with him for just one night/would you throw away your whole damn life?" may well be one of the most poignant descriptions of pregnancy ever written. WESTERBERG HAS said in recent interviews that the difference between this record and others is that there are no jokes on this one, and that's definitely true: the unifying theme here is sadness. But time and again, he captures in a single phrase the deep sadness of life without resorting to mere quips. It's as if he's finally learned lyrical shorthand. "Beautiful and blue" is one such moment. Another is "We're identically sad." Suicaine Gratifaction is also the first record on which Westerberg has been able to blend the music, lyrics and overall tone of each song into a seamless whole. Possibly the best example of this accomplishment is "Sunrise Always Listens," a song about staying up all night. "I've bored a sunset. And a lampshade. And a TV. And the bed. But the sunrise always listens ... and sometimes she even finishes my sentences." Beautiful. But then, that's just my opinion. I know a guy who was way more into the Replacements than I ever was, if you can believe that, who thinks the "sunrise always listens" is the dumbest thing Paul has ever sung. He went ballistic when he heard it and turned the radio off in disgust. I think, however, that Westerberg's constant admission of fallibility, vulnerability and the possibility of rejection stands in direct opposition to all the things most people turn to rock & roll in order to believe in--that is, that fame is fun, and love is forever and everything is gonna work out fine. But those are the very myths that Westerberg rejected all along, first with the Replacements, at the top of his lungs, and now more quietly, more effectively, more deeply. He writes truthfully about life as it is, not how he wants it to be, and unfortunately, his work is convincing enough that some people just can't take it. But to hell with them, you know? For me, at least, Paul Westerberg will always be a voice of reason. In an era when everything else sounds either false or funny, when my peers have all given up on music because it speaks to people who are either older or younger or more ugly-minded, there's a great deal of comfort to be found in quiet courage, and in the sound of truth being sung out by one who doesn't know any other goddamned way to do it. As for those who resent Westerberg's role as sensitive singer/songwriter because they really just want him to rock, they are advised to track down an EP called Psychopharmacology by a mysterious artist called Grandpaboy, which was recorded in 1997. Let's just say no one's ever seen Grandpaboy and Westerberg in the same room at the same time. You can order it by mail from Soundproof/Monolyth Records, P.O. Box 990980, Boston, MA 02199-0980, or look it up on www.monolyth.com.
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RickVee
Dances With Posts
Posts: 97
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Post by RickVee on Aug 4, 2011 16:05:35 GMT -5
A FRIEND OF MINE was talking about an episode of Oprah she saw the other day. Apparently, Oprah had opined that all men fear vulnerability and rejection more than any other things on earth--and that they'll go to any length to avoid them, including suicide. "Do you think that's true?" she asked me wistfully, and I thought about the question for a moment. "Well, women don't like rejection either," I replied. "But it's way down on my list of fears. When it comes to rejection, I'm perfectly willing to contemplate it."
So, too, is Paul Westerberg, king of vulnerability and lord of all the rejects, and that may explain my deep affection for him, as well as the fact that few men I know can listen to the one-time frontman of the Replacements with any degree of equanimity anymore.Indeed, his recent work seems to rub all guys the wrong way, and if Oprah's right, it's no wonder. Westerberg positively embraces vulnerability and then beckons rejection to come and take him on man-to-man, wrestling it to the ground while we, his fans, listen aghast to the battle. Perhaps that would explain why, to the majority of males, Westerberg's more introspective songs are almost as disturbing as their girlfriend's fateful words, "Honey, can we talk about our relationship?"
So Gina Arnold thought guys weren't digging Paul's music at that point in his career - huh??? What was she smoking?
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sivad
Star Scout
Posts: 323
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Post by sivad on Aug 4, 2011 18:26:00 GMT -5
So Gina Arnold thought guys weren't digging Paul's music at that point in his career - huh??? What was she smoking? Apparently she has never logged on to MWT . . .
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ih8music
Star Scout
couldn't be happier.
Posts: 943
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Post by ih8music on Aug 5, 2011 11:07:27 GMT -5
Sounds like Gina Arnold hangs out with a bunch of meat heads and mouth breathers.
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Post by FreeRider on Aug 9, 2011 9:37:46 GMT -5
"WESTERBERG DOESN'T CARE FOR CRITICS." Wisconsin State Journal, 29 Aug. 1996
Paul Westerberg does not take criticism well. Why should he? As the former leader of the Replacements, one of the most beloved, influential bands of the '80s, the Minneapolis child raised a village of devoted followers.
The critics? Sure, they adored him too. That is, until he broke up the band after a July 4, 1991, concert at the Petrillo Music Shell in Chicago's Grant Park. From that moment on, he's been dogged and dissed at every turn. His two solo albums, ``14 Songs'' (1993) and now ``Eventually,'' have been easy targets for rock critics who need to fill their quota of tough reviews.
Like many other artists, Westerberg, 36, claims to ignore it all. At the same time, he does offer his own strong feelings. `I hate to be insulting, but they never cross my path,'' he says by telephone from Los Angeles, where he is rehearsing for a short tour, which begins in earnest in Madison Wednesday at the Barrymore Theatre.
"I don't read newspapers really and I don't buy pop magazines. If one was on my table I would look at it. I wouldn't be afraid to open it up. But I do what I do. I know if I was good or not. And many times I hear people say `What a rave review' and it doesn't mean a damn thing to me because I wasn't satisfied with the performance. And the opposite is also true sometimes. I learn to be my own judge.''
It's a good thing, then, that he didn't read this knifing by rock critic Greg Kot of the Chicago Tribune: `14 Songs' sounded more like a songwriting exercise than a matter of any particular urgency, and ``Eventually'' sounds even less inspired. It's not so much that Westerberg has lost his touch for turning the pithy phrase or crafting the stick-to-your-ribs melodic hook -- although even these skills have started to wither -- it's just that he seems to have nothing left to say.''
Westerberg has a lot to say -- and can be quite frank -- about people like Kot. ``No one's going to ever put up a poster of them in their bedroom, that's the basic bottom line. No one's ever going to love them. No one's ever going to want to be them. And, you know, they've got to deal with that in some way.''
He has no real use for television either, for that matter, and was not real thrilled about taping an episode of ``The Larry Sanders Show'' the next day that is scheduled to air in October. `I'm willing to go play a song and not much more than that,'' he says curtly. In other words, Westerberg will not, if asked, sit down and participate in the HBO mock talk show.
`If that means I'm not going to be on his show then that will be the case. I'm not dying to be on TV for TV's sake. I'll go play my songs anywhere, any reason. I'm a musician and that's what I want to do.''
In fact, with his uncompromising disdain for the mass media, it was surprising that he agreed to do this interview. However, he was gracious and generous until the difficult questions began to emerge.
For example, he doesn't like talking about the Replacements years when the band was well-known for drunken onstage antics and outrageous behavior.
`Unbelievable,'' he mumbles under his breath when a particular out-of-control Madison Civic Center show is brought up. (His last Madison appearance was in 1993 at the erstwhile R&R Station.)
A reformed Westerberg played last month in Milwaukee with a three-member backing band that includes guitarist Tommy Keene, a talented pop singer-songwriter in his own right. Recent audiences have been treated to a two-hour show built mostly around the solo material peppered with four or five perfectly reconstructed Replacements songs. Some recent shows have included David Bowie's ``John, I'm Only Dancing.''
This summer, Westerberg also found himself back at Grant Park five years to the day of that last Replacements show and it didn't faze him one bit. `It was a hell of a lot more fun this time than with them. That was the end of an era, so to speak.
Paul Westerberg, 7:30 p.m. Wednesday, Barrymore Theatre, 2090 Atwood Ave., $14.75, 241-8633.
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Post by FreeRider on Aug 26, 2011 10:03:18 GMT -5
Achin' To Be Understood: The Rolling Stone Interview with Paul Westerberg by Chris Mundy
Former Replacements frontman Paul Westerberg, the man with the rap sheet of an anarchist and the soul of an artist, is wandering in and out of record stores in downtown Manhattan, chain-smoking and fielding questions with a crooked smile and straight answers. When those questions turn to whether he has always identified with the noble loser, Westerberg replies that he relates to the title character of an old British movie, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner. In the movie, the main character is a working-class kid who is thrown into prison only to have the penitentiary officials coddle him - banking on his ability to win a cross-country race against a prestigious prep school. The runner, however, has a different idea. "I'm going to let them think they have me house trained," he says. "But they never will, the bastards. To get me beat they'll have to stick a rope around my neck." Nearing the finish line, out anti-hero, clearly the most talented runner, stops just shy of the victory tape, stares at the prison warden with a piercing smile and lets the rest of the field finish in front of him. "It affected me that he won the race for himself but he wasn't about to win it for the cause or for the team that he never felt a part of," say Westerberg. "But I get the feeling the record company doesn't expect me to go all the way. If I place or I show, that's good enough."
With his solo debut, 14 Songs, a definitive statement of his enduring viability, Westerberg has proven that he still has the ability to lap the field. And at least for now, he's still running.
In the beginning, Westerberg and the Replacements were supposed to save rock & roll. They were the scream of a generation that didn't even know why it felt like screaming - attacking the status quo with equal parts drunken abandon and divine inspiration.
Now, twelve years later, Westerberg is alone and the Replacements legacy - songs simultaneously tuneful and intimidating - is alive in a slew of young bands playing ultra-heavy guitar pop and residing in the upper echelon of the charts. The other Replacements, meanwhile, have projects of their own: Bassist Tommy Stinson fronts his own band, Bash and Pop; Bob Stinson, the group's original guitar player, who was fired in 1986, plays in various groups in Minneapolis; Chris Mars, who parted ways with the Mats, as they were known to their fans, in the band's final stages, has released two solo albums; and Slim Dunlap, Bob Stinson's replacement, has just put out his first solo effort, The Old New Me.
Westerberg's 14 Song comes three years after All Shook Down, the album that proved to be the Replacements' undoing. That record, originally conceived as Westerberg's solo coming out, instead marked not only the group's demise but the breakup of Westerberg's marriage and an end to the booze-soaked lifestyle that had become the mats' modus operandi. When the lights came up and the smoke began to drift away, All Shook Down ended up being the Replacements' last shot. Instead of saving rock & roll, Paul Westerberg decided to save himself. CM: You used to write so much about the band itself ["I Don't Know", "Bastards of Young," "Talent Show"," for instance]. Does it make you feel lonely now that you're solo? PW: No, the opposite. I feel more free because I used to have the entire world to write about and I chose to write about me and my three pals. It's like I broke out of a little cocoon. It was one-dimensional, writing about the band against the world. Now it's me, but I'm not against the world. CM: Somewhere between 'All Shook Down' and now, you evered ties with the past. Was this intentional? PW: Yeah, to me that's obvious. In a way, I've wanted to take the spotlight off me as the singer in this group and put it on what I do. Start over. "Ladies and gentlemen, this guy writes songs." CM: You said the record 'All Shook Down' was the sound of someone having a breakdown. Do you still think that's true? PW: Yeah. It was, essentially. without stopping long enough to really look at it clearly, it was the end of many things. My band. My marriage. My excessive lifestyle. They all came to an end, but I made the record before I dealt with any of it. CM: So what is the sound of '14 Songs'? PW: It's just me. It's the sound of a thirty-three-year-old guy who lives alone and enjoys it. I'm not part of a group. I'm comfortable with where I'm at. CM: You were always intensely loyal. Were you afraid of leaving the other Replacements hanging? PW: I was afraid of life and everything that goes with it. And to a certain extent I still am. But my fears were much deeper than offending someone in the band. All I can tell you is I feel good now, and I worried back then unnecessarily. There wasn't anyone in the band who was a real positive thinker or an uplifting guy. We were all kind of defeatists and kind of played with the idea of being the failure as hero. And we all fed off each other. We all escaped individually but not as a group. CM: Booze used to be what you used to quell self-consciousness. What do you use now? PW: I'm just not as self-conscious as I used to be. Thinking of alcohol as the answer to the problem ... when you look at it in the clear light, you realize it is the problem. If it's not the root, it feeds the problem. Eliminate that and the problem shrinks. I'm much more confident now. CM: Do you miss the camaraderie of drinking? PW: No. If that's what it took to be pals or to have a good time, then your good time was worthless. There's fun to be had once you stop. I don't want to preach, but this is ten times better because it's real. It might now be wild, but it's better, definitely. CM: Do you think the Replacements would have been as good if you didn't drink? PW: We would have been better musicians. It depends what you like. We would have been well-adjusted young men. CM: Has there ever been anything written about you that was harmful? PW: We reveled in that legendary shit. I guess if things weren't true, it would have hurt me, but we lived very excessively, and that was a fact. CM: Did the Mats really dump their Twin Tone masters into the Mississippi River because you felt cheated on royalties? PW: Not enough of them. Because they're releasing them now in Europe. We didn't get what we wanted. I think we threw out the original "Can't Hardly Wait," the one produced by Alex Chilton - which was kind of good. Oops. Of course, it was Tommy who talked to the receptionist, Chris and I actually did the deed, and Slim sat outside with the motor running. He had a car and a rifle, but we don't want to talk about that. CM: Do you ever use interview settings as the place to mend some damage you've done? PW: I have no regrets or apologies. I'm not going to use this as a forum to say, "I'm sorry about the time we ripped the wallpaper down." That's what we did one time. We played this club that was notorious for its graffiti, and we tried to get the roadies to go out and get some wallpaper. We were going to wallpaper the dressing room - over all the autographs: CHECK BERRY, 1968. But instead we just neatly tore all the wallpaper out. Avant-garde destruction. I'm not sorry for anything we did like that. We never hurt anybody, and we always paid for it, and we more often than not broke our own stuff. CM: Do you regret the lifestyle you used to live? PW: Sure, I regret anybody I might have hurt unnecessarily. I'm sure there's a bunch. I made it, I'm fine, I'm alive. I don't regret that the band didn't go further. I think we did exactly what we were supposed to do. We were probably supposed to die. I guess we should have died. That would have ensured that our legend was intact. CM: Did the Replacements have an "us against the world" feeling as a band because each of the members felt it individually? PW: I would say that's fair. I think that's why we became friends. I don't think a well-adjusted class president could have made it to play lead guitar for us. There was not a high-school diploma on that stage. We all had something in common. CM: But you actually finished school. PW: I went twelve years but never got the diploma. They wanted me to come back to get it. But I didn't want one. CM: Because the Replacement took such a strong anti-establishment stance, doesn't any promotion you do now make people think you've sold out? PW: Yes. And a lot of time, we used that [attitude] as a shield. The real reason was fear or plain old laziness. CM: Who is your biggest "them" these days? PW: Guys who wear suits. Guys who look down at musicians and think they have a free ride. I'm not saying what we do is more important than what they do, but if they don't respect us, what the hell do they expect from us in return? CM: Turning back to your new album, "World Class Fad" is its first single. Did you want to make sure that one of the rock songs got out there first? PW: Yeah. Maybe to reintroduce myself. Bottom line, I'm a rocker. I can write ballads, but I would rather be known as that than a balladeer that dabbles in uptempo music. CM: Are you worried that people are going to think the album is too wimpy? PW: Hell, no. There's nothing wimpy on that. Quiet music is not wimpy. Wimpy is trying to be too cute. CM: You write on acoustic guitar, so it would figure that you'd be writing more slow songs. PW: I did, in fact. And I didn't have a band or any musicians to play with for two years, so when I got into the studio and met everyone, within three minutes we were playing "Down Love." For some reason that never happened with the Mats. CM: Which song on '14 Songs' is closest to you? PW: I would say "Even Here We Are," in an odd way. "Runaway Wind," although it's poetic to the point where I don't paint myself into a corner. I mean, that song is me through and through. "Something Is ME," even. As silly as that is, that says a hell of a lot about me: "Something goes wrong eventually. Something is me." CM: In "Even Here We Are" you talk about the most beautiful flower being the one that grows wild in the garbage dump. Is that autobiographical? PW: Yeah, it is. Every damn line could apply to me or I won't sing it, as a rule. CM: What do you want the record to communicate that's not implicit in the songs? PW: I'm not offering an image of an attitude. It's an old-fashioned concept here: A guy who writes songs. CM: If you had to make a representative three-song sampler of the new album, which three would you choose? PW: Probably "World Class Fad," "Even Here We Are" and "Runaway Wind." CM: That is basically, then, one total rocker, one constructed poem and one very self-reflective ballad? PW: Sort of sums it up. All the others are based on that. CM: And somewhere in the middle that's you? PW: Yup. It's all me. CM: What would you want to do if you had to give up music? PW: I can't think of that. It's like what would I do without my limbs. It's like imagining what it would be like to be blind, although actually I seem to be on my way. CM: Do you feel like you were trying to make '14 Songs' all things for all people? PW: No. All things for me. My sister listened to it and said, "This is the first time you've made a record that you would actually listen to." And that's true. It felt indulgent. Who's going to like both "Even Here We Are" and "Silver Naked Ladies," let alone back to back? But I don't like just one thing. CM: There are two different songs on '14 Songs' that have the same line about "the suicide you're on." PW: Those lines just kind of came out. We weren't going to keep them both on, but hey, I just thought it was a neat line. CM: You also wrote "The Ledge," on 'Pleased to Meet Me,' about a kid contemplating suicide. Is suicide something you've considered? PW: Sure. I think about it and have thought about it, like anyone else, probably more than most people. Or at least more than people are willing to admit. But if you write it down, people think you have a problem. I can't even say how much was true depression and I thought suicide was a viable alternative or how much of it was me liking the glamour of someone thinking I might be that far on the edge. I think I stopped talking about it when I was afraid I might be dangerously close. By the end of All Shook Down it seemed very real. CM: Have you ever been to a therapist? PW: I went a few times. I kept feeling like he was looking at his watch, like he wanted to go on lunch break. It was depressing. You'd talk, and he'd just kind of nod and smile. It didn't last long. CM: Who do you turn to for support? PW: No one. I just put it down, I don't carry it. My songs have taken on a new life for me. I've written songs for lack of having someone to talk to, and it's gradually gotten to the point where if I have a problem, I sit down and get my feelings down on paper. But I don't really use them on the record. I don't want to be known as the king of sad rock. CM: Bob Mould has made a pretty good career out of writing really good dark songs. PW: Yeah. I like Bob. I haven't talked to him in years. He used to come over to my house occasionally when I was married and have dinner. We'd play around the living room, dulcimer and banjo. I'd play him my new songs, and he'd play me his, and we'd both be like "Yours sounds great." "Yeah, so does yours." And we're both thinking, "Oh, mine blows yours away." CM: Do you write fiction or poetry? PW: I kind of write, and then one day it will become a song. I have things written down, and one day I'll look for them if I need a line. I don't have a diary or a book of poems. I just have pages and pages that say things like "Buy milk. Go to the store. The man is the sea is the birds." I think, "What the fuck is this, is this lyrics?" CM: Where do you write? PW: In the living room, which is a new wrinkle. I used to write in the basement ever since I lived in my parents' house. It dawned on me a year or two ago when I moved into a new place and grabbed all my gear to go down to the basement. I thought: "Why the fuck am I doing this? This is my life, it shouldn't be hidden downstairs. It should be right up here where I live." CM: Have you ever written anything for any publications? PW: They asked me to write liner notes for my album, and I tore them up in the middle of the night. I just thought it was giving too much away. I had explained everything to the point where it left no mystery. It's like "Nah, these go in the trash." CM: They could be a collector's item. PW: Maybe. Trash collector's item. CM: Do you donate much to charity? PW: I don't stand for causes, I don't do benefits. But if a guy comes up to me on the street and needs help, I give them what they need. I've emptied my pockets for guys. I've had like a hundred dollars that I give away and then bum around myself for the next two days. CM: When you think back on your childhood, was it fun? PW: It was quite ordinary, middle-class Middle America. Maybe that's where the frustration came into play. CM: Did you spend as much time alone then as you do now? PW: My mom was always encouraging me to go out and play, but I tended to want to be alone. It's the way I've always been. I'm comfortable with it, I guess. CM: Do you go on vacations? PW: No. I never did as a kid, so it probably holds over until now. The first time I ever went out of the state was on tour. Cm: What does your apartment look like? Are you a pack rat or is it very sparse? PW: It's kind of a classy dump. It's a house that I rent, and it's sinking into the ground, and it slants. If you put a gold ball on one side of the living room, it rolls all the way down. It's funky. Kind of New Age log cabin with no hippie vibe whatsoever. And nothing matches.
I've got green chairs, a red rug and a blue painting and a black piano that's out of tune. CM: Are you ready for the wear and tear of a tour now? You've been inside for two years. PW: I woke up this morning, and I didn't know where I was. It's only been two days, and I already don't know where I am. We used to play a game with the mats on the bus, and it would be really quiet, and all the sudden you'd point at someone and yell, "Month, day, city, year!" And people would be like "February, Philadelphia, '92" And it was like March 3rd, '91. And it was serious. CM: What makes you laugh these days? PW: Myself. CM: So, you're saying that you're basically an island, is that it? PW: No, I have a handful of friends. I've traveled a lot, and the majority of my good friends are people who don't necessarily live in Minneapolis. CM: Are you seeing anybody now? PW: Yeah, I have a girlfriend. CM: Has it been difficult to step back into bating life after your marriage broke up? PW: No, this is a whole Enquirer-esque situation. You're asking about me dating again, like I ever stopped. I wasn't the best husband. We had a good thing, and I don't think I was really ready to be married. I thought I was, made a mistake and wasn't. But once that was over, oddly enough, I didn't want to go out on dates. I didn't want to go out and pretend I was nineteen again. And oddly enough, I ended up with a girl I had known for along time, someone I knew seven or eight years ago. CM: In "First Glimmer," you say, "I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, I guess it still shows." Are you trying to say you don't anymore? PW: Oh, no, quite the opposite. It's there. I'm not about to change. I'm not about to become suddenly overly guarded. I'll still spill my guts. CM: Do you want people to comment and tell you about your songs? PW: Absolutely. In a word, yes. And people always come up and say, "You wrote this just for me." And I say: "Yeah, I did. I don't know you, but I knew you were out there." CM: Do you listen to other confessional singer-songwriters? PW: I went through a phase where I was very into that - Joni Mitchell being the epitome of that - about four years ago. When I'm down, I tend to listen to that stuff, and then I get a little more positive and aggressive and carefree and looser. CM: You're a very solitary person, so isn't it likely that the solo work will be incredibly introspective? PW: I'm a firm believer that my mind can travel farther when I'm surrounded by four walls than it can when I'm out in a crowd surrounded by people. There's no limits to my imagination. CM: Do you talk to yourself? PW: yeah. I carry on entire conversations. I ask people, "Do you ever talk to yourself?" And they say yes, and I say, "Do you ever have full conversations?" And they just stop and look at me. I have to say, "Oh, me neither." But sure I do. CM: A lot of bands will use pop culture as a base to sing about. Why have you never done that? PW: I won't even have a phrase in a song that reeks of the moment. I want to say things in the most traditional manner possible. If I have one of those phrases, I get rid of it. CM: It's like waking up in five years with a Bart Simpson tattoo. PW: Exactly. Or a record that's groovy. It's like with videos. People say things like "It should be in your face." To me that's like it's 1967. CM: How do you approach videos now, you hated them for so long? PW: I still do, I hate 'em. I hate the fuckers. And I know that now on this album they're going to be coming to me to do things like The Tonight Show. I might just have to say no. After playing a few tours, like the [Tom] Petty tour [in 1989] where we were playing to people who didn't know us, didn't like us and didn't care - I've come too far to be playing for people who don't care. CM: Isn't that still just biting the hand that feeds you? PW: No. It's simply not wanting to perform in that sterile environment of a studio where you're playing to people who have come on vacation and just want to get Alec Baldwin's autograph. There's an evil darkness that lurks inside of me that always wants to get out in those situations. Cm: You've said before that you never really give 100 percent? PW: I think I read that and then adopted it. And as a band we were treated like a feather in the label's cap. We were a band that was cool. CM: So what are you now? PW: I don't know. I think I'm in transition because I haven't proven myself yet. I think that they do see me as a very talented artist. They have artists who sell a lot of records who maybe aren't that talented, I won't mention any names. But they don't expect that of me. And on one hand I wish they would. CM: You'd want to be treated as a commodity? PW: No, be treated as someone who should sell a lot of records, and if I don't they're saying, "Hey, what's wrong?" CM: Do you like the idea of being famous? PW: I like the idea of it. I don't know if I actually like being it. But I don't know if I am yet. CM: But don't you write your music wanting as many people to hear it as possible? PW: I tend to separate my music and myself. I would love for my music to be world renowned, but I don't necessarily want to go along with it. I can't even think of any example. Would you recognize Leonard Bernstein if he walked by? It's a bad analogy, but that's what I would like. I would want to be able to say, "Yes, I did write this." I could dig that in a big way. But it's a really bad analogy, because he's dead, isn't he? CM: Do you have anyone you'd like to meet or anyone who makes you feel like a little kid or a star worshiper? PW: Most of them are dead. I've met Dylan and Van Morrison and Keith. There's three right there. I don't have a lot of heroes. I never realized I had any. CM: Those guys seem like the exact people whom you guys were kicking against for so long. PW: That's what we were supposed to do. We listened to the Rolling Stones throughout the career of the band , even though we pretended they were the enemy. I mean, I couldn't give two shits about John Lydon now, but at the time I thought he was the greatest thing ever. Well, yes, I could give two shits about him. One and a half. CM: Why has it been easier to focus your career and music without the rest of the band? PW: We weren't clicking as a group. The only time we did things together were destructive things from the early days. It was "All for one and one for all, let's break this table." We ran out of things that we do well together. I lived in constant fear of retreading what we'd already done.
And I sensed it around the time of Pleased to Meet Me [1987]. And Slim came along then, so that helped, but we should have stopped then. CM: You once said, "if all this falls to hell tomorrow, I'll still have three friends, and that's enough for me." PW: When did I say that? CM: After 'Tim' came out, not all that long before Bob got fired. Does it seem strange that in the end, two of those three friends ended up getting fired? Is there any friendship left with Chris or Bob? PW: I'm friends with Tommy and Slim, and the three of us are good friends. People change and grow. But Bob didn't change or grow, which was bad. Chris did, which was good for him, but it was maybe bad for the band. When we started off, we were getting bottles and cups and cans thrown at us. I had my teeth chipped. Nobody wanted to be the singer.
Then you get a few nice reviews, people want to talk to Paul, and voila, everybody kind of wants to be the frontman. I resented the fact that the other guys wanted to step into my role. CM: Was there one breaking point that got Bob kicked out of the band? PW: I grew to like his style of playing, but from Day One I never was in love with the way Bob played guitar. I hear his guitar everywhere now - Dinosaur Jr. wherever. Whether they know it or not, Bob was doing that in 1980. But I don't think it's fair to talk about Bob. If he wants to talk about himself, fine, but I don't even think it's fair for him to talk about us. CM: Do you ever see him? PW: I visited him in the hospital. he had a wisdom tooth that got infected. He had a tube in his throat, and it was strange because he couldn't talk. But I sat and talked with him for a half an hour. That was the last time I saw him. CM: Does it seem strange that a lot of bands that are big now are riding on your coattails? PW: I think that's a credit to us lasting that long. If we'd been hugely popular right off, we probably would've cracked immediately.
CM: What do you think was the difference between the Replacements and a band like R.E.M.? Both of you guys had a huge fan base, great reviews, you toured a lot. PW: Management [laughs]. They did all the right moves, and we did all the wrong moves. To be fair, they're an excellent band, and they made all the right moves. CM: Are there any young bands that you look at now that you think are carrying the mantle? PW: Not that I've heard, but I think I have a selective memory. The thing that always catches me is the guy's voice - not what he's saying, what the band sounds like, what they look like, but the tone of his voice.
I can tell when somebody means it and when somebody pretends to mean it. CM: Would you be comfortable with you bands coming and asking you for advice? PW: Sure, then hanging up. "Get a life!" No, I think I would, in a constructive way. I remember trying to tell Charles Thompson of the Pixies once that he shouldn't open up for someone like Sting. And the next day I remember thinking, "Who the fuck am I to tell him what to do?" CM: Do you feel connected at all to music in Minneapolis?
PW: No, not at all. But even in our heyday, we never did. We were loved by the audience but hated by the local bands, because they sat in rehearsal halls and learned how to play and got their act together. We'd get up there, swill a bunch of beers, tell a couple jokes and go down a storm. They hated us. So we were always outcasts. CM: So is it strange now being considered an elder statesman? PW: It's weird because when you're in the midst of it, you want to be looked up to, and you're not, because you simply don't warrant it. And then when years pass and there's maybe some credence to "Yeah, we started this thing, I should be looked to as an influence over these bands," I just don't care.
Pick of the Litter (a supplement to the interview)
Paul Westerberg never listens to old Replacements albums - not even the way other people look at scrapbooks. Even so, he will admit to favorite songs.
"I like 'Achin' to Be' [Don't Tell a Soul] and 'Here Comes a Regular' [Tim]," says Westerberg, "And I've always loved 'Answering Machine.'"
Here, we offer our own, excluding Westerberg's chosen few. 1) "Left of the Dial" (Tim): Possibly the loneliest song in a canon full of desolate and desperate stories. It is the true-life tale of Westerberg hearing the voice of his friend (guitarist Lynn Blakely, who toured with Let's Active) on the radio only to have the station fade moments later.
"You tend to wallow when you're on tour because you look out the window and you're missing everyday life," says Westerberg. "It's hard to make anything last out there." 2) "Unsatisfied" (Let It Be): As straightforward as any song ever written. When Westerberg screams, "I'm so unsatisfied," there's no doubting it for a second. 3) "Color Me Impressed" (Hootenanny): The song that set the boozy, thrash-happy standard that the Replacements perfected. 4) "Alex Chilton" (Pleased to Meet Me): The Eighties' most talented misfits wailing about the Seventies' most talented misfit. And it has a killer chorus to boot. 5) "Within Your Reach" (Hootenanny): Poignant and plain-spoken. Along with Let It Be's "Sixteen Blue," it was one of the first songs that offered a glimpse of the poet underneath the pose. "I could live without your touch. Die within you reach." 6) "Little Mascara" (Tim): Only the Replacements could make isolation this universal. "You and I fall together/ You and I sleep alone.../All you ever wanted is someone to take care of you/All you're ever losing is a little mascara." 7) "Sadly Beautiful" (All Shook Down): A quiet and disturbingly start look at love lost, it was the most chilling song to grace the Replacements' final album. 8) "I Will Dare" (Let It Be): This album opener defined the Replacements' attitude - "We'll dare to flop, we'll dare to do anything," Westerberg once said - at the same time that it served as a desperate, plaintive plea for love. "Meet me any place at any time....If you will dare, I will dare." And no less important, it needed to be played loud. 9) "I'll Be You" (Don't Tell a Soul): A winner because it contained the line "left the rebel without a clue" well before Tom Petty, um, appropriated it for his enormous hit "Into the Great Wide Open" two years later. (The Mats toured as Petty's opening band after the release of Don't Tell a Soul.) 10: "Can't Hardly Wait" (Please to Meet me): This song scores a sympathy victory over "Androgynous" (Let It Be) and "Swingin' Party" (Tim) if only because the original version is today floating somewhere in the Mississippi River.
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 4, 2012 12:39:44 GMT -5
Not really an interview, but a reference to Paul by Alex Chilton in an AC interview and interesting snippet and wasn't sure where to put it: What do you think of the song Paul Westerberg wrote entitled "Alex Chilton"?
I like it. Yeah, I think it's one of his really good songs.
-That's lucky.
Yeah it is - I had great apprehensions until I heard it. I heard another song about me a while back, some guy gave me this tape in somewhere like Arizona - some song called "My Sister's Bringing Alex Chilton Home". I couldn't exactly tell what he meant. I'm always interested in how and what these artists think about what they do, what it's like to be a performing artist. I thought this was in interesting comment from Alex: -So while you might not think your songs are great, you must enjoy playing them?
It's always fun, playing music is just fun. It's this kind of wonderful participatory kinetic art form that groups of people can engage in together, it's like a sport almost. To get up with a couple of guys and lay down some sounds that are really happening is fun.
-Do people's reactions to your music mean a lot to you?
Yeah, sure. You don't need the majority of people to dig your music for it to be good. If there's one person in a hundred thousand, then that's okay. If you ask any artist about his career, the things that he does that are the most popular are not necessarily the things he thinks are the best. zenandjuice.com/music/bigstar/text/idler_chilton_interview.txt
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Post by bobstinsonsghost on Jan 5, 2012 1:01:14 GMT -5
i met alex chilton before a show in 1996,i was'nt sure if i should go up and talk to him because i'd heard he could be a dick but he turned out to be a very cool guy. the only time he seemed a little testy was when i asked him what he thought of the replacements song. 'would you know i was if you did'nt know that song?' gulp........'probably not' he smiled and said 'well there ya go,its helped pay my rent from time to time' he hung out with my friend and i for about 10 minutes, signed my copy of high priest and as i said was very cool to us. there was a man called destruction poster on the wall of the club that my friend wanted, when he tried to take it down one of the bouncers stopped him we told ac about it and he went over pulled the poster down signed it and gave it to my friend. the funniest part of the scene was some people that we'd met earlier came over and started talking to us about what songs alex would or would'nt play that night(i think they were talking about a big star tune) and they actually got into a bit of an argument with him about it not knowing they were talking to the man himself! he said 'aw he would'nt play that crap' and gave me a quick wink.....good times.
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Post by FreeRider on Jan 5, 2012 10:48:55 GMT -5
pretty cool story! yeah, i gathered from other interviews with Alex that he could be a bit moody and testy.....very cool you got to chat with him a bit, that's awesome.
and that's so true, though; the radio stations when I was growing up (mostly typical AOR crap, with the same playlists) never played Big Star at all and so I never knew who they were or who Alex was (funny, my older brother knew who he was because he remembered him from the Box Tops).
as a kid back then, if you didn't hear it on the radio, or someone hipping you to something new, you'd never know what else is out there other than what they ram down your throat on the radio. if you were lucky, you could pull in the local college radio station, or that one station that played "progressive" music (as it was called back then).
I was able to finally tune in to some late night radio shows that someone told me about and discovered there was an entire underground of music I had no clue about---bands like the Stranglers, Be Bop Deluxe, The Comsat Angels, King Crimson, Renaissance, all kinds of stuff. Some I liked, others I didn't take to. And then I finally discovered a station, with a weak signal, that had a free format and played all kinds of stuff and that;'s where I discovered the Replacements.
Sadly, there aren't too many stations that play progressive/alternative or free format music nowadays. It always seems to be the college stations that can keep you up on new and interesting stuff. Again, their signals are weak and hard to pull in, so I really don't listen to the radio anymore for rock (haven't in about 15-20 years now). Internet radio streams, I guess, is the way to go.
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