Cult Albums: #9 THE REPLACEMENTS – Tim (1985)

On September 28th Rhino are issuing “Deluxe Editions” of the four albums that the Replacements made for Sire between 1985 and 1990. Not sure what the deluxe element entails – bonus tracks presumably. I can’t think they will be much to write home about – the Replacements weren’t the sort of band who left a whole lot of classic unreleased material, most of it being drunken arseabouts.

For many, the Twin Tone years were the band’s peak period, and the Sire tenure saw the group in decline as it fractured and ended up a Paul Westerberg solo project in all but name. There is something to be said for this theory. The production became more radio friendly, and only Tim features the original quartet of the Stinson brothers, Westerberg and Chris Mars. But both Tim and Pleased To Meet Me are as good as anything that the group ever recorded for Twin Tone.

Tim, though, is a frustratingly mixed bag. There are some songs that are little more than Clash pastiches. I’ve been listening to the album for longer than I care to remember, and I still struggle to remember how “I’ll Buy” or “Dose of Thunder” go. Tommy Ramone’s production suffers from that horrible mid eighties bloated, echoey snare sound that virtually every major label record of the era has (it can really get irritating). And the dynamics are frustratingly flat at times – both things that the new remaster may do something to correct. Despite these gripes, Tim remains my favourite Replacements record. It still retains some of the gonzo dumbness of their early stuff, but, at its best, combines it with a song-craft that elevates it above almost any other rock from the era.

“Hold My Life”, “Kiss Me On The Bus”, “Bastards of Young”, “Little Mascara” and “Left of the Dial” all combine a slight world-weary sadness with punk energy and tunes to die for. Alt-rock anthems they may be, but they never fail to lift the spirits. I did a piece on “Bastards of Young” just over a year ago. “Left of the Dial”, an anthem to college radio, is maybe even better.

The ballad quotient would increase on later records. Here there’s just two. “Swingin’ Party” is actually more low-key pop than a ballad. “Here Comes a Regular”, though, is one of the most heart-wrenching five minutes ever recorded. Some songs have a delicious melancholy, others are just heartbreaking. This tale of weary barflys, alcoholism, wasted lives and dashed hopes falls firmly in the latter category. It’s barely more than a strummed acoustic, bar a cameo piano break and a synth-string coda. Westerberg’s vocal is downtrodden and broken and never fails to get me.

Well a person can work up a mean mean thirst
after a hard day of nothin’ much at all
Summer’s passed, it’s too late to cut the grass
There ain’t much to rake anyway in the fall

And sometimes I just ain’t in the mood
to take my place in back with the loudmouths
You’re like a picture on the fridge that’s never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house

And everybody wants to be special here
They call your name out loud and clear
Here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one here today?

Well a drinkin’ buddy that’s bound to another town
Once the police made you go away
And even if you’re in the arms of someone’s baby now
I’ll take a great big whiskey to ya anyway

Everybody wants to be someone’s here
Someone’s gonna show up, never fear
’cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?

Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I’m sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts

First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain’t much to rake anyway in the fall

Sublime.

Tracks
1 Hold My Life 4:18
2 I’ll Buy 3:20
3 Kiss Me On The Bus 2:48
4 Dose Of Thunder 2:16
5 Waitress In The Sky 2:02
6 Swingin Party 3:48
7 Bastards Of Young 3:35
8 Lay It Down Clown 2:22
9 Left Of The Dial 3:41
10 Little Mascara 3:33
11 Here Comes A Regular 4:46

Originally issued as Sire 9 25330-1 in November 1985.

Song of the Day: REPLACEMENTS – Bastards Of Young (1985)

The BBC’s consistently infuriating Seven Ages Of Rock reached episode six and college rock/alternative rock/grunge – call it what you will. There were small flashes of the Pixies, Black Flag, Mudhoney and Hüsker Dü, but the bulk of the programme was predictably given over to REM and Nirvana. The ‘Mats had a fleeting presence due mainly to their song “Left Of The Dial” being used as the title.

It had me giving Tim, the album it comes from, a spin for the first time in too long. I was going to do something on “Here Comes A Regular”, but then thought – sod that. It’s just too fucking heart-breaking. Maybe another time. “Bastards Of Young” is the Replacements at their snotty, irresponsible best. Tim is packed chock-full of great sing-along melodies, but still retains some of the band’s trashy rough and ready approach. The production is a bit eighties, with that big snare sound that just everybody had at the time from Madonna downwards (on her “Live to Tell” it’s utterly ridiculous). But radio friendly production could never quite tame the ‘Mats into a slick rock act.

For all its melodic charm, and rousing, ramshackle sing-along impishness, “Bastards Of Young” is a serious song about the generation left behind by Reagan’s “new morning”. “God, what a mess, on the ladder of success / Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung / Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled / It beats pickin’ cotton and waitin’ to be forgotten“. It is probably the definitive Generation X anthem for the swarthes of poor, downtrodden, aimless, ignored and forgotten youth for whom the establishment had “no word to name us“. The chorus is almost a proud, rallying declamation: “We are the sons of no one, bastards of young“. As if wilfully sabotaging their own work, the song ends in shambolic chaos with everybody seemingly launching into different tunes. It’s symbolic for the slacker “will this do?” attitude that the band often seemed to be the figurehead for.

Tim was the group’s first major label record. Along with Let It Be, the group’s last album for indie Twin Tone, it showed a band at the peak of its powers. Three more albums for Sire would follow – each not quite as good as the one before. They’d do plenty more great songs, but the decline was steady. Paul Westerberg’s solo career has been pretty erratic since. He’s consistently inconsistent. Only Suicaine Gratification keeps the bar constantly high from start to finish. He’s never made a rotten album, though.