The Twitterverse delivered an unexpected surprise last week with the announcement of three (only three?!?) upcoming shows by The Replacements. After coming together to record a benefit project for ailing guitarist Slim Dunlap last year, it appears that the prodigal sons of no one finally will dare to confront their former selves. Will it be great? Will it suck? Will the tickets cost more than floor seats for the Stones? Whatever happens, it’s safe to assume that these bastards of middle age still have a few surprises up their tattered sleeves.
To be honest, it won’t be true reunion. With one member dead, one recovering, and one abstaining, it’s left to Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson to shoulder the burden. And I think “burden” is the right word here, particularly for Westerberg, who has alternately embraced and rejected his ‘Mats legacy over the years. Unwittingly thrust into the “spokesman of his unsatisfied generation” role, he was never comfortable pursuing traditional rock stardom.
Thus, his solo career has wavered between shoulda-been Top 40 hits (“Love Untold”), unpolished demo dumps (the occasionally brilliant, ultimately frustrating 49:00) and Disney songs (“The Right to Arm Bears,” anyone?). Conversely, Stinson, alternating between solo projects and the traveling circus that is Guns n’ Roses, appears to be thoroughly comfortable in the world of leather pants and limos. Contradictions such as these were at the center of The Replacements’ ethos, for whom conflict was rocket fuel. Whether this yin and yang still burns we’ll know soon enough.
The tweet dredged up many memories for me, particularly of the live ‘Mats shows I witnessed during my Dallas years. There was the intentionally sloppy, “we’re TRYING to get fired!” opening slot for Tom Petty in ’89, followed by the surprisingly polished swan song gig in ’91.
However, both of those appearances pale in comparison to the 1985 show at The Theatre Gallery. Actually, I’m a little fuzzy on the date…it could’ve been early 1986 but it was definitely in support of Tim. As a college DJ, I had watched the group develop from thrash-and-bash punks to my idea of the ultimate rock band. Now, as a guy with a community radio show, not only was I going to see them live, I was going to interview Westerberg as well. I could not believe my good fortune! The anticipation was almost unbearable.
The Theatre Gallery, an underground art gallery and live music/theatre space, opened in Dallas’ Deep Ellum district in 1984. With no liquor license and pretty much no rules, it was the perfect setting for a Replacements show. I arrived at the club early, set up my tape recorder and waited for Paul. It turned out to be a long wait, as the band was delayed leaving Oklahoma City, where they had played the previous evening. Word was that Tommy had been arrested for D&D (that’s “drunk & disorderly,” not “Dungeons & Dragons”) and thrown in the pokey. I never confirmed this report, although it seemed plausible enough. In any case, being late was completely consistent with the band’s character, so I took it in stride.
It was getting close to show time when Paul arrived, embracing the club’s BYOB policy by gripping a bottle of Jack Daniels tightly. I introduced myself (“Hiya Paul, I’m Tim!”) and we adjourned to the venue’s office. Paul dumped a slug of whiskey in a glass and said, “Hey, do you want a drink? It’s clean, I didn’t spit in it or nothin’.” I accepted, pressed “record + play” and settled in to ask my first big question. It was a question that had been top of mind from the minute I saw their latest album and now, at long last, I would get the answer. “So,” I asked with barely-contained glee, “why did you name the album Tim (heh-heh)?” Paul, slumped in a dilapidated swivel chair, answered flatly, “We just wanted the shortest, stupidest name we could find.” Oh.
Eventually, I regained my composure and asked a few more questions before the tour manager retrieved Paul. The show started more or less on time and, for five songs, The Replacements were THE BEST BAND YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR LIFE! Truly, they exceeded all my expectations. Once again, I marveled at my good fortune. At that moment, the power went out in the club. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Being an “under the radar” venue meant things like power failures and broken toilets were to be expected. It took a little over an hour to get the power restored and in the interim, the band found more whiskey. Much, much more. Uh-oh.
Bob Stinson’s tutu, its fabric stretched to the breaking point, had a large amber stain running down the middle. He strapped on his guitar and struggled to plug his guitar cord into his amplifier, looking like he was playing a wobbly game of Whack-a-Mole. Paul made his weaving way across the stage to a microphone and leaned on the stand for support. “We’re gonna play Kiss: Alive ALL THE WAY THROUGH!!!,” he bellowed as the rest of the band hooted in agreement. “Side One!,” he added and with that command, Bob dutifully played the opening chords of “Deuce.” They fumbled through it, sounded a little better on “Strutter” and then completely fell apart in the middle of “Got to Choose.” Tommy collapsed in a fit of laughter, Chris Mars dropped his drum sticks and Bob and Paul stood motionless as feedback howled through the P.A. End of show.
At first, I was really angry. My first Replacements show and all I got was five songs and some half-assed Kiss covers? Upon further reflection, I realized that it had been a much greater experience than I had initially realized. In fact, I came to see the show as a metaphor for life: sometimes it’s great, sometimes it’s awful but if you’re doing it right, it’s never boring. And now, as if to prove the point, the band is about to reenter my life when I least expected?
Can’t hardly wait.
