The Replacements Bible
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THE REPLACEMENTS bible version 1.4 this is an document of copyrighted material for educational/research purposes only You are encouraged to utilize the Bookmarks for navigation Brats in Babylon THE REPLACEMENTS By Ralph Heibutzki Goldmine, October 29, 1993 Saturday, January 18, 1986: After a trying time with the people of NBC's Saturday Night Live, Replacements guitarist Bob Stinson decides to cut loose and make himself at home in his New York City hotel room. "We got there at the [Omni] Berkshire [Hotel], and all our rooms got flowers and fruit—it's like, 'bad move, guys,’” he says recalling the accident. By the time Stinson finishes making himself at home, it costs $1,000 to replace a broken window, door and phone. The carnage isn't major, but doesn't endear the Replacements to Saturday Night producer Lorne Michaels, who vows, “No band from Warner Brothers is playing on my show again unless you guys pay for it.” Warner Brothers antes up without fuss. "We were a troublesome bunch,” says Stinson. "They picked us up in the stock limousine. They knew we were going to immediately start drinking, which we did. And they wouldn’t let us off the floor — ‘Anything you need, let us know’- and it’s like, ‘Okay, gimme about four (studio) pages and I'll feel better.' Yeah, we were totally abusive of their privileges.” Later that night, Stinson and company—his bassist/brother, Tommy, singer/guitarist, Paul Westerberg; and drummer Chris Mars—throw timing and tuning aside during "Bastards Of Young" and "Kiss Me On The Bus” in a classic clip reflecting a long day of mismatched sensibilities and mutual hostility. "Yeah, they didn't like us too much down there. Nobody did," Bob Stinson says with a laugh. “They pretty much ignored us, thinking we would probably crumble—when, in fact, it was quite the opposite. By then, we were flat out used to it. They put their noses up at us, and we spit up their nosehole.” Such were the joys in Rockstarland then; you could smash it up and not worry about who paid for it. How far we’ve come since is best illustrated by Nirvana’s own Saturday Night Live appearance last year, when the Seattle boys actually asked for permission to smash their instruments. The notion boggles Stinson’s mind. “That’s kind of ridiculous,” he scoffs. “Maybe they were warned about it, whereas we were unpredictable. Us ask permission? We’ll take permission, that’s what we’ll do.” For slightly more than a decade, the Replacements — or the ‘Mats (short for replacements) as fans tagged them - took permission with the gusto of a commando torching an enemy hideout. They broke every mold and kicked down every door, needless of what ever lay on the other side. Not for nothing did a weary Paul Westerberg warn his audience years later, “One foot in that door, the other in the gutter/The sweet smell they adore/The one we’d like to smother” (“I Don’t Know”). You name the rule, the Replacements broke it. Instead of hailing from a major city like Los Angeles, or New York, the original trio of Bob and Tommy Stinson and Chris Mars came from Minneapolis, Minnesota, best known as the home of one Prince Rogers Nelson, in 1979. More than anyone, the Replacements’ music and attitude personified the “Minneapolis sound.” While their peers clung to carbon copy punk formats of two fast droning chords and overt politics, Paul Westerberg’s songwriting defiantly staked out its own personal territory. The Replacements were uncanny stylistic chameleons who had nothing in common but the lack of a high school diploma. They could rock you to the wall, stun you with a pure pop chorus, or confront your own weariness in such ballads as "Unsatisfied," "16 Blue" and Here Comes A Regular"- all on one record, or even one night. Best of all, the Replacements honed their craft without a net, or even a mast extending that attitude to abandoning set lists, and, careening through unrehearsed covers of "classic rock" oldies for unsuspecting crowds. They pursued their craft with an honesty few other bands ever mustered. The journey to "fuck you" begins with a single step; for many, the Replacements’ footprints were way ahead of most. Today’s brats in Babylon owe them a major debt; it’s high time to acknowledge that debt. From Impediments To Replacements: 1979 – 1981 In the beginning, there were two: Bob Stinson and Peter Jesperson. Both came from a Minneapolis scene seeking something wild, raw and different, as young men jammed in basements and formed bands such as Husker Du and Suicide Commandos to find that something. Bob Stinson was among them. His earliest influences were unlikely ones, and included Yes, Ted Nugent and Golden Earring. "What I sound like and what I listen to are two different things," he notes. Their story starts in 1979, when Stinson sold an amplifier and bass to his 11 year old brother, Tommy, and taught him how to play. A girlfriend invited Chris Mars to the Stinson home, where the trio began jamming. "Actually, there was no singer; we’d just get together, and just jam, and see what we could play," says Stinson, who periodically attempted to sing if nobody else was brave enough. Finally, however, the boys decided they needed a singer, so Chris Mars suggested a 19-year-old guitarist in a nearby band who’d never sung before. His name was Paul Westerberg. “When I went over and heard him play, he was way too mainstream,” says Stinson. He was doing Tom Petty shit, Bad Company, whereas we were just freelancing fuckin’ around, and comin’ up with stuff all our own, which probably lured him a little bit. We didn’t have a format.” One thing led to another, Bob recalls playing guitar alongside Westerberg on the Dave Edmunds song “Trouble Boys.” Something clicked in my brain and we got Paul to come over and play with us. And he [Paul] goes, ‘Where’s the bass player?’ And I go, ‘He’s [Tommy] sitting right there,” says Stinson. The quartet tore through a Westerberg song- “Lookin’ For You," on Hootenanny (1983) and the ‘Mats were born. "Once we got going, it was pretty much obvious it had to happen," says Stinson, who cracks: "Paul gave us a chance. We could concentrate on our beer bottles." For Chris Mars, the band was a chance to break out: "It was one of those things where you asked, 'What do you do to keep yourself out of trouble, and away from the factories?' We didn't really have any aspirations, because we wanted to do it, and it just went from there." That point wasn't lost on Tommy Stinson, either: "It was fun, it was better than school. I still don't think of it [music] as a career. It's a conflict of terms, basically." Peter Jesperson's introduction to the band - which floated between the names Dogbreath and the Impediments- was equally auspicious. Originally a Top 40 DJ, Jesperson tired of that (“I couldn't play anything but certified gold”) and began working at the Oarfold-jokeopus record store, known for its left-of-the-dial stock. While working there, Jesperson started Twin Tone Records to record the emerging scenes, and also worked as a DJ at the Longhorn, where major punk/new wave acts played. On that association, Paul Westerberg, an Oarfolk regular, slipped Peter Jesperson a tape in hopes of securing an opening slot at the Longhorn. While catching up on some paperwork one night, Jesperson grabbed a stack of tapes and began listening, with the usual minimal expectations (“there was a real glut of Stooges soundsalikes at that time”), until he heard Westerberg’s efforts. Stunned by what he heard, Jesperson rewound the first song — “Raised In The City,” which went on the Replacements’ debut, Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out the Trash — several times. He even invited over his three best musical friends, who seconded his instincts. “It wasn’t just a bunch of loud guitars with somebody shouting slogans over the top, which everybody was doing at the time,” he says now. (The other three songs were “Shut Up,” from Sorry, Ma, and two unreleased efforts: “Shape Up: and “Don’t Turn Me Down.”) “And it turns out the moment I was actually listening to the tape in the office, he [Westerberg's] was actually eavesdropping outside. He heard his tape come on, and made a run for it, because he was so nervous!” says Jesperson. So began Peter Jesperson's giddy ride as the Replacements’ manger and confidant from 1980 to 1986. When that ride began, by May/June 1980, the Impediments’ name was already history. Jesperson recalls going to see them in an ironic setting, a “chemical free” coffeehouse occurring in a church, only to find the gig had already been canceled. “And then the guy who ran the coffeehouse made some really grandiose statement: ‘I’ll make sure you guys never play in this town again,’ so they just changed their name to the Replacements. The name was just a cocky Westerberg sort of thing,” he says. How cocky? According to Jesperson, when an interviewer asked whom the group hoped to replace, Westerberg replied, “Everybody.” Jesperson soothed his proteges' feelings on the coffeehouse fiasco by arranging an opening slot at the Longhorn on July 2, 1980, which saw them debut as the Replacements. A mere three weeks later, the new band cut its first demos at Blackberry Way Stadium, near the University of Minnesota.