Trouble Boys:the true story of the Replacements by Bob Mehr

Cultureberg would like to commend Bob Mehr's biography of rock music's premier self saboteurs to you. Having turned its pages over the past month, reclining on the chaiselongue at Cultureberg Manor  ,we can attest that the band and satellites interviewed therein exhibit the same candour and highminded be honest and damn the consequences attitude that the Mats demonstrated as they crossed America in ramshackle vans.  The one area which could be added to in this comprehensive history is with regard to the tours of Europe, so below are some memories of The Replacements in The North of England.  These recollections tend to back up the picture presented in the book, of alcoholic and other indulgences fuelling a barely controlled and undefined mission; be aware,descriptions of events, venues, tour buses and hospital emergency rooms are almost olfactory in their immediacy.  The ebb and flow of band relationships are described with no regard for modesty or evasion, the truth often crawling shamefaced into hangover's light, and it's the band's same directness and principled honesty which ensures that the Replacements are remembered with a fondness not extended to the same extent to, for example, the Georgia Satellites or Soul Asylum. The ability to travel down a one way street at a hundred miles an hour is a rare one which here evokes admiration, apology and proselytising and it seems that if you were bitten by the Replacements at the time, you are with them for life.

Cultureberg  admits to some erosion of memory about events, and in the interest of accuracy enlisted the assistance of associate Monsieur Jim, also present at both shows.  His memories were far fuller, and though Cultureberg was nominated driver to Manchester for the second occasion  and demon  alcohol cannot be the cause of the sketchiness, the role of the booze is, as Trouble Boys shows with immense detail, central to the story and, indeed, enjoyment of the Replacements.

On May 30th 1987, Young Cultureberg was rendezvousing with a number of musically curious confreres, none of whom had heard the Replacements, perhaps expecting something akin to contemporaries Green on Red or The Long Ryder's, all flannel shirts and rock classicism.  The Howard Hotel was the meeting point, a short stumble from the venue, Sheffield's Leadmill.  In the corner of the lounge were four or five guys dressed in Thrift Store Keith Richard, feathered hair, falling down drunk.  There was a significant Exclusion Zone around their table, as they pulled at each other like puppies, swearing and roaring in American.  The roadies, surely.

Of course, dear reader, it was The Replacements, bevvying up between soundcheck and show.  Trouble Boys makes clear that drinking was not deferred to after show celebration, but was rather a component to their erratic live reputation, indeed a major part of what endeared them to the cognoscenti.  The band had moved on when Monsieur Jim and Mr Wright joined the party, and when we went to the Leadmill I was able to assure all that the figure prostrate on the floor in a vaguely Burberry type suit or maybe checked shirt was Mr Paul Westerberg, lead singer.

M. Jim recalls the band spilling onto stage about 11 pm, late for that venue.  They as fully embodied the concept of louche as The Faces had before them.  For the first 15 to 20 minutes an exciting shambles ensued.  Songs were started and summarily ended.  Band members appeared to be in different keys and perhaps even playing different songs to their colleagues.  The sound was (M. Jim's emphasis) LOUD in every sense of the word, with Tommy Stinson's bass smeared across, obliterating other sounds.  Like sediment settling or a kaleidoscope focussing everything began to gel.  The last thirty minutes were great.

Mr Wright chose this as his point of exit, figuring he'd only miss a couple of songs by getting the last bus.  A mistake, as the Replacements did a set of encores as long as the first set, getting better and better as they went on.  At this juncture, those discharged by the closing pubs (History note: all pubs shut at 11 pm back then) were filtering into The Leadmill, poised to go clubbing, poised to Disco.  Some were heard to decry the fact that the band were still on, in stark opposition to the many punters who were being bitten for life as the Replacements headed for unsteady orbit.

The band returned again, after a short intermission, for a third set and launched into the opening number, only for (again, M. Jim's emphasis) the twat DJ to cut the power to the stage and crank up the 80's hip-hop.  This divided the room as surely as a presidential election or a european referendum.  Mr Westerberg and the Stinsons continued to riff on through the monitors over the top of the dance music but it was a losing battle.  With justifiable frustration and expressing the will of those who wished them to Remain on stage, Mr Westerberg gave the DJ the finger as he left.  Proof indeed that they could empty bottles of spirits, but also had a spirit which couldn't be bottled.

Cultureberg's memories of the second time M. Jim and I saw the Replacements, at Manchester Boardwalk, are even vaguer, so I will quote my associate verbatim.  "The gig was something of a reverse of the Sheffield one.  They started off extremely tight and together.  It began to feel a little too professional, as though they were squeezing every ounce of that magnificent spontaneity out of their performance.  I vaguely remember Tommy dipping out briefly (as does Cultureberg, who recalls him returning with increased brio and application to his task) and that Paul got more tense as things went on, as though nothing they did came up to the standard he wanted.  I also remember him doing quite a bit of crowd surfing (possibly during Nightclub Jitters) and the music seemed to become a distraction.  There were no extended encores."

From reading Trouble Boys some understanding of the nature of this performance can be made.  The band was unravelling, Mr Westerberg was easing into his solo career, but most importantly, the singer was newly sober.  As anyone who has assumed the role of nominated driver, and has sat whilst the rest of the party rise or fall into disarray and bonhomie, can attest, sobriety is a tough row to hoe.  It can lead you into over-compensation - crowd surfing during Nightclub Jitters would fit into that category.  This is a band who Mr Westerberg insisted were on tour, not tourists; who refused to give 100% as a non-negotiable expectation.  Trouble Boys makes it clear that written through the Replacements like letters through Blackpool rock was an adherence to the glory of spectacular failure, of willfully falling short, whilst simultaneously giving fealty to an unattainable ideal of truth and honesty.  Into that chasm they fell - maybe they jumped.  There is nothing as glorious as wasted potential, especially if it is loud and snotty.  It was a joy to see.

Americans don't do irony: Randy Newman and Trumpworld

Randy Newman has written many great political songs, the best of which are in character, not always the most savoury of character at that.  It can be difficult for the casual listener to decide if the voice is a reflection of his opinion or not.  You have to think about 'em.  That's irony. That's saying what you don't mean so the listener has to try a little bit harder. Some of the songs teeter on the brink of multiple interpretations -  It's Money That I Love, You Can Leave Your. Hat On,  God's Song .  Given the recent Election result Cultureberg hopes 'Political Science'  will not hopefully be proven too prescient ("Let's drop the big one now, they all hate us anyhow."), but some of his songs are such perceptive sketches of the American mood (at least, some of it) that I'd like to pick out three of them which seem most telling in the light of recents events.......

1.  Rednecks, from 'Good Old Boys'.   Randy understands prejudice and liberal self delusion better than any other American songwriter, and for Lester Maddox (former governor of Georgia) you could read Donald Trump.  Good Old Boys is his most under-rated record, and clearly New Orleans seeped into his consciousness beyond merely his piano playing.  






2.I'm dreaming of a White President.  Not on any album, released on video in 2012 and no-one is as aware of  unspoken prejudice as Randy. The satire is a bit broader but no less on the money.





3. Putin, from forthcoming elpee.  Released before the November election, and before Trump started cosying up with Vlad the Terrible, all in a twisted show-tunes, Disney apocalypse style.  I love the interplay with the backing singers.  I rilly hope you do too.....






As an afterthought I considered Roll With The Punches from Land of Dreams, but that's a level of irony unintended by its author.....and not a course of action anyone should be considering...Here it is anyhoo!



Hey, mebbe this is the most ironic of 'em all.  Maybe, we're all gonna have to roll with the punches.