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More New Westerberg and Sad News

Just a few weeks after the release of the recently-pulled '49:00', Paul Westerberg's back with a couple new digital offerings. '3oclockreep' is 20+ minutes in the "collage" vein of '49:00' plus a bonus track called "Finally Here Once". And, if you missed it earlier, don't forget to download '5:05' (which my iTunes clocks in at 5:06) is also out there for download.

I'm torn about this recent digital tidal wave of material from my favorite songwriter. On the one hand, there's some good stuff in here, especially on '49:00'. On the other hand, the collections can be very hit-or-miss and have the feel of somebody noodling around in their basement studio at 3 AM because they can. Nothing wrong with that, but I used to enjoy the anticipation and build-up to a new Westerberg release. Now it seems like all I have to do is wait a couple weeks and something new will be out there.

In sadder Mats-related news, drummer Steve Foley – who replaced Chris Mars and also played with bassist Tommy Stinson's short-lived Bash & Pop – died at the age of 49 from what is being described as an "accidental overdose of prescription medication".

Amazon Shipment Notices Get Me All Tingly

It should come as no surprise that I love getting mail. When I was a kid I used to fill out those giant ads on the back of the Sunday comics for travel brochures and then wait p-a-t-i-e-n-t-l-y as the envelopes for such exotic locales as Williamsburg, VA and Luray Caverns arrived in our mailbox.

Years later I would start zines like Exploitation Retrospect and The Hungover Gourmet partially as an excuse to have something to send like-minded folks in exchange for more mail.

Unfortunately, e-mail doesn't give me quite the same thrill and even going to my PO Box once a week has become a ritual based upon sadness more that anticipation.

But e-mail has taken on a more tingly feel the last couple days. Not only did Amazon inform me that my copies of the new, bonus-packed Replacements reissues are on their way, but I also just received notice that my copy of Johnny Legend's TORTURE CHAMBER OF DR. SADISM / DEATH SMILES ON MURDER Eurosleaze double-feature is also on its way.

'Mats Fans, Start Your Wallets! Or, Best Reissue News Ever

Nice to see that the long-rumored deluxe editions of The Replacements' back catalog are more than just rumors. April 22nd will see the release of deluxe editions of all four of their Twin/Tone vinyl releases, Sorry Ma Forgot to Take Out the Trash, Stink, Hootenany and Let it Be. Each disc will include everything from live tracks and unreleased versions to demos, all picked by the band for these releases. And from the looks of the track listings about 80% of the bonus cuts will be new to my ears.

According to this article over at Pitchfork the band's Sire output (Tim, Pleased to Meet Me, Don't Tell a Soul and All Shook Down) will receive the same deluxe treatment later this year.

Hey Mr. Congressman... bring on my rebate check!!

Thanks to fellow Mats buff Anita at Syndicate Product for the tip.

AMERICAN HARDCORE (2006)

It's no wonder that The Replacements ended up being my favorite band of all-time. Like me, they briefly flirted with the world of hardcore punk, cranking out one pseudo-hardcore EP with heart-wrenching songs like "Go" alongside spirited, but out-of-place anthems like "Kids Don't Follow" and "Fuck School".

As Mats bassist Tommy Stinson says in the documentary AMERICAN HARDCORE, listening to the music of the time made you want to go out and play that stuff, but they just weren't that band.

Unfortunately, Stinson's 30-seconds is about all the insight you'll get on Minneapolis's role in the American hardcore scene in the 1980s. Oh sure, the incredibly influential Husker Du – one of the genre's truly great bands, critical darlings and success tales before their flameout – gets a brief mention and their iconic logo shows up on a map at one point, but that's about the only mention in this sometimes interesting but largely disappointing documentary.

Not to be confused with the bands that mainstream media had labeled "punk" (Sex Pistols, Clash, Ramones, etc.), American hardcore punk was an angry, aggressive, testosterone-fueled outburst ignited by the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980. Reagan, the failed movie star, was seen as an anti-Christ, a vacuous talking head whose Republican politics meant nothing good for anyone other than America's elite.

Striking a blow against the government and pop culture fads like disco and new wave all at the same time, American hardcore exploded on the scene thanks to bands like Black Flag, Bad Brains and Minor Threat. Pretty soon those bands were pressing and releasing their own records and – more importantly – touring and spreading their message and music in towns all over the country thanks to gigs in shitty venues like abandoned glass factories, church basements, suburban backyards, and VFW halls.

I came a little late to the punk party, first getting into bands like The Misfits, Ramones, Sex Pistols, Lords of the New Church and New York Dolls around 1983. By the time I reached college in 1984 and ended up on the school's radio station, my musical horizons opened up before me and I found myself sampling hardcore to go along with my leanings toward new wave and power pop. But here's what I realized at the time and what was driven home by watching this documentary – a lot, and I mean a LOT of this stuff really, really sucked and was unlistenable. Then and now.

Oh sure, there were some great bands: pre-SLIP IT IN Black Flag, the aforementioned Husker Du, some of the SoCal punk groups like Channel 3, Circle Jerks, TSOL and Agent Orange, and mid-American punks like the Zero Boys to name a few. But I never "got" the likes of Minor Threat or Bad Brains (though they're both widely revered) and the less said about Gang Green, SSD, Cro-Mags, etc. the better.

The film attempts to chronicle the genre's explosion on the scene in 1980 and its eventual – and inevitable – implosion in the mid-80s when it seemed to just, well, end. As one interviewee in the film suggests, it wasn't even a gradual decline, the genre just seemed to come to a screeching halt.

Along the way, director Paul Rachman talks to some of the biggest names on the scene: HR (Bad Brains), Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat), Greg Ginn (Black Flag, SST Records), and no surprise here, Henry Rollins (Black Flag) as well as members of the Cro-Mags, Jerry's Kids, SSD, MDC and more.

What's missing, though, is almost any – and I mean ANY – mention of the Dead Kennedys, a massively influential band known in many circles as the most important American hardcore band. Ever. How you make a documentary that chronicles this era and you don't talk to Jello Biafra or anybody else involved with making what's arguably the most savagely brilliant – and best – music of the genre is beyond me.

It's oversights like this that make AMERICAN HARDCORE a disappointing and hardly encyclopedic look at this brief, incendiary time in punk rock history.

Making 'Pleased to Meet Me'

A couple months ago I mentioned 'All Over But the Shouting', a long overdue oral history and appreciation of my favorite band of all-time, The Replacements. Not surprisingly, the book was a bit of a disappointment. By not including interviews with key members of the band – especially Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson – the whole affair had a gossipy, secondhand feel to it.

While I loved the passages from guitarist Slim Dunlap, who replaced dismissed founder Bob Stinson after he won the distinct honor of being the most wasted member of the world's best most wasted band, Slim was only there for the latter portion of the band's grab at life outside indie rock stardom.

One of the things that I thought the book lacked most was insight into the recording of their albums and Westerberg's songwriting. Most disappointing, perhaps, was the section on the time around 'Pleased to Meet Me', arguably the band's best album. Tales from the making of the record are legend and it might have been interesting to read more from producer Jim Dickinson, who somehow harnessed the maelstrom that was The Replacements and did a pretty damn good job of preserving it for all to hear.

If you want that story, though, you'll have to read Torn and Frayed: The Story of The Replacements' 1987 Classic 'Pleased to Meet Me' by Ted Drozdowski over at the Gibson website. It's a great piece that shoots holes in some of the long-standing myths about the album's making and it does a damn fine job of capturing what made the band lovable then and now, warts and all.

Chris Mars and Johnny Thunders

In honor of the new book ALL OVER BUT THE SHOUTING: An Oral History of The Replacements by Jim Walsh I dug out this photo featuring original 'Mats drummer Chris Mars.

Booted from the group after recording their final album – 'All Shook Down' – Mars embarked on a solo career that resulted in one terrific album, 1992's 'Horseshoes and Hand Grenades', as well as a few more follow-ups. He eventually left the music world behind and turned his attention to an art career that has continued to flourish. (I'm proud to say I have a Mars original – a drawing of Fred Flintstone – on the back of an "Alex Chilton" 12" single.)

Mars recently wrapped an exhibition at the Jonathan LeVine Gallery in New York City and has several more exhibits scheduled in the coming months and years.

The photo was sent to ER HQ back in the early 90s after I mailed Mars a copy of ER #36 which featured a review of 'Horseshoes...' and a Johnny Thunders release, hence the Thunders-inspired inscription.

Check out his website at Chris Mars Publishing.

I'm In Love, With That Song...

It's not everyday that a large, photo-filled, hardcover book about your favorite band of all-time is delivered to your home. By courier, no less. But that was the case yesterday when the long-awaited ALL OVER BUT THE SHOUTING: An Oral History arrived on my doorstep.

I first heard the 'Mats back in 1985 when I was doing a radio show at Drexel's WKDU. My show that semester aired on Saturday afternoons sandwiched between a boyfriend/girlfriend team that wore black turtlenecks and Ginny, an older DJ who I'll always associate with the Comsat Angels.

And introducing me to The Replacements.

A caller phoned in a request for "Gary's Got a Boner" from 'Let it Be' and when I couldn't find the LP on the shelves I mentioned it to Ginny who was there early pulling records for her show. She informed me that the record had been lifted from the station as had more than one replacement copy (no pun intended). That, she said, was the sign of a good record and I should probably give the band a listen. She thought I'd dig their mid-American rock sound.

Little did she know the Pandora's Box she was opening. I picked up a copy of 'Let it Be' before I got on the bus back to Jersey and threw it on the turntable as soon as I got home. I played it and played it again. And played it again. And again. Within days I'd picked up all their other albums and was making compilation tapes for anybody who would listen.

Up until that time I'd been searching for a musical identity. My tastes were all over the place and still are, but I didn't really have a sound or a band that I could call "mine". Sure, I liked the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag and Ramones but I was hardly a punk. I dug the new wave represented by Missing Persons and A Flock of Seagulls, but I was doomed to a lifetime of hair like Chachi – there would be no cool 'dos in my future.

But The Replacements were a different story. They were about my age and their music was a pastiche of all the genres I'd grown up on thrown into a blender. Listen closely and you could hear Top 40 pop. And KISS. A little bit of country. And Black Flag.

Pretty soon I was championing the band to everybody I knew. I was, for lack of a better term, a Replacements Evangelist and looking back it was probably pretty obnoxious. For me there were the Mats... and all other bands fell somewhere behind them. Each record seemed to arrive at a crossroads in my life and like every other fan of Paul Westerberg I felt like his lyrics were speaking directly to me.

I still have a fat manila folder filled with articles about the band pulled from newspapers and magazines. At one point I even entertained the idea of writing a book about them myself and promptly shelved it because who else would read it?

It's more than 20 years since I "discovered" The Replacements that winter afternoon and they remain my all-time favorite band. I don't continue to labor under the misconception that they never recorded a bad song, and the bandmates' solo work has been hit or miss at best. (Call me crazy but I think Slim Dunlap's first solo disc – 'Old New Me' – may be the best of all the post-breakup albums and his second one ain't bad either.)

Reading the preface to the book last night I couldn't help but remember my own encounters with the band over the years. The first came in 1987 when they were touring in support of the great 'Pleased to Meet Me' (which flip flops with 'Tim' as my favorite, depending upon my mood). We'd arranged an interview at the radio station and I was going to conduct it. Though station rules prohibited smoking and drinking in the recording studio we threw both out the window and stocked the room with plenty of ice cold beer and didn't bat an eye when Westerberg pulled out a smoke and lit it up as he grabbed my notepad from my hands and hid my questions.

Though it was more than 20 years ago I can remember it like it was yesterday... Slim, drummer Chris Mars and Paul cracking jokes and avoiding questions they didn't want to answer by cackling "So how about them Phillies?" Tommy Stinson, his hair spiked to an unnatural size and wearing checked orange pants, getting up in the middle of the interview because I'm pretty sure he was annoyed. The band drinking and smoking and seeming to have a good time, so good that we were later informed by their record company that they weren't allowed back to the station on future tours. (I have a transcript of the interview somewhere and will have to dig it out.)

It was also one of the few times in my life that I allowed the "fan" in me to overrule the "journalist" in me. I've interviewed more than my share of celebrities, actors, directors and musicians over the years, and I've always felt compelled to maintain an air of professionalism. But that day in 1987 was a different story. I lived and breathed the Replacements and though I felt like a dork doing it (and still do) I got Westerberg and Mars to sign my promo 12" of "Alex Chilton." (Slim told me "You don't want my autograph" and Tommy never returned from his trip to the bathroom.)

Though I've sold off a good deal of my 'Mats-abilia over the years, that signed, framed 12" remains one of my prized possessions.

Oddly enough, I'd encounter the band again years later thanks to Ginny, the former DJ who had first told me to give them a listen. As I said, they'd been banned from the station and our repeated interview requests had been turned down. As it turned out, though, Ginny was now working for Warner Bros. and had the unenviable task of acting as their "handler" during their spin through Philly.

Running into her before their show in support of 'Don't Tell a Soul' she told me that they'd be hanging out at a local bar after the gig. Sure enough that's where they were and at one point I found myself in a booth with Westerberg, Stinson and two women, drinking red wine we "bought" with tickets they seemed to have an endless supply of.

At one point Paul got up and sang a couple Doors covers with the local band playing to one side of the bar while Tommy continued to hold court in the booth. Mars and Dunlap stood back, far from the melee surrounding their bandmates and it was the first time it dawned on me that the band would not be together forever. You could sense a schism even in that smoky, boozy room in Upper Darby, PA.

A few years later that schism would open wide. Mars left or was dismissed from the band he helped form. Paul was pushed further and further into the role of frontman, a fact I always assumed bothered Stinson. I think Slim was just happy to play. Original guitarist Bob Stinson died and dreams of a reunion featuring the band's first lineup were dashed.

These days I'm a far cry from the drunken lout who screamed at a couple of "new" Replacements fans during a show at the Tower Theater. They didn't know "Another Girl, Another Planet" by The Only Ones – a favorite cover performed by the band – and the beer and Cisco and hatred for my then-girlfriend coursing through my veins spilled over as I let loose on them. How dare they worm their way into my inner circle? Where were they in 1985 when I was bumming smokes off cute girls and taking photos of the band at Penn's Houston Hall?

These days I'm more likely to get choked up as I sing "Achin' to Be" to my daughter or feel a rush as "Message to the Boys" comes up on my iTunes. I'm looking forward to reading the book and hearing what other people have to say about their memories of the band, but like many other fans I'll always have my own.

Replacements 'When It Began' Video

You never know what you're going to stumble upon while surfing the web at 5 AM. I thought I'd seen every video The Replacements recorded during their brief flirtation with MTV which started with the legendary "Bastards of Young" video which showed nothing but the band members sitting on couches and chairs while a speaker pounded out the tune.

Somehow I missed the video for "When It Began," an ironically titled track from their last album, 'All Shook Down.' Frankly, the album is more a Paul Westerberg solo effort than a 'Mats effort, with guests appearing on almost all tracks. I can't imagine the shoot for this video – featuring the band performing in and wandering through a claymation town I assume is meant to represent Minneapolis circa the late 1970s – was all that pleasant, given the band's overall distaste for the medium and the in-fighting that was leading to their eventual breakup.

The video comes from the minimalist blog '120 Minutes' which features nothing but videos from the days when MTV not only showed videos but often showed videos from bands I liked. If only I could find one for "Crush Story" by Too Much Joy.

At Least Somebody in The Violent Femmes Has Standards

I had a weird dream last night that I was hanging out with Axl Rose before a gig and helped pull him out of an elevator after he beat the snot out of guitarist Charlie Sexton. Weird. Dream Axl also confirmed that Tommy Stinson of The Replacements is still in the band and that their new album will be worth the wait. Weird.

Back in the land of reality, I was pleased to see that somebody in The Violent Femmes has standards. Apparently, despite the fact that they still play together regularly and just finished a world tour, bassist Brian Ritchie is suing lead singer Gordon Gano saying he was deprived of songwriting credit on some of the band's songs. Ritchie also states that he wants an accounting of the band's earnings.

More importantly, Ritchie was apparently as appalled as I was that the band's overplayed "hit" 'Blister in the Sun' was used in a commercial for the Wendy's chain of fast food outlets. Mmmmm, nothing like a song about masturbation to get me in the mood for a big, beefy burger.

What's next? McDonald's scoring their next McFlurry spot to "Orgasm Addict"?

Westerberg's Wife

20 years after the release of 'Pleased to Meet Me', the album that should have made them stars, it's nice to still see The Replacements getting some press. Though this fall's release of the band's oral history is the big event for this 'Mats fanatic, Chris sent me this link last night about a memoir from Paul Westerberg's wife.

You might remember Laurie Lindeen from her role in the Minneapolis band Zuzu's Petals and her book 'Petal Pusher' chronicles her rock and roll coming of age.

Dante's Inferno: 7/20/07

Was reading old pal Aj Michel's terrific Syndicate Product blog this morning, including her piece on a particularly great shuffle produced by her MP3 player (Zen, I believe). I commented that I swear sometimes my iTunes shuffle knows what kind of mood I'm in and picks tunes out based on how hard and fast I'm typing, how quickly I'm jumping from site to site, etc.

A few songs into this morning's playlist I realized that my shuffle and I were in almost perfect harmony. Since firing it up earlier this morning – no live Stern show on Fridays so I almost always go for the shuffle to start my day – my playlist has featured Paul Westerberg, Joan Jett (with Paul Westerberg), T Rex, Descendents, Dictators, Marvelous 3, a cover of The Replacements' "Little Mascara" by The Draft, Afghan Whigs (whose career-spanning best of is available now), All, Too Much Joy, ABC, Jawbreaker (covering Joan Jett), the late but great Philly band The Stuntmen, and Screeching Weasel.

Considering I have 7600 songs programmed into my iTunes (that's 17+ days worth of music) that's an impressive lineup and one I would've been proud to serve up to my listeners were I still on the radio today.

Other quick hit news of note on this Friday morning...

Now that Stuart Gordon's FROM BEYOND is headed to DVD, Fred Dekker's NIGHT OF THE CREEPS tops my DVD Wish List. Fans of Dekker's THE MONSTER SQUAD have gotten their wish with a new 20th Anniversary Edition that's not so much reviewed as drooled over here. Frankly, I never got MONSTER SQUAD, but I have no undying love for the Universal monsters it celebrates.

I imagine that if you had any significant interest in Tim Lucas' massive, long-awaited Mario Bava book you probably have already ordered it. If somehow the 800,000 word (no, that's not a typo, all those zeros belong there) book has flown under your radar, act fast. Lucas recently announced that upon receipt of the shipment of books getting ready to leave Hong Kong the book's price would more than double in price from $120 to $250.

The release of The Dark Knight. Christopher Nolan's follow-up to the phenomenal Batman Begins is currently shooting in Chicago. I have reached the point where I no longer want to know anything more about the film, which stars Christian Bale as The Caped Crusader and Heath Ledger as what promises to be a darker, sinister Clown Prince of Crime, The Joker. (Translation: No dancing to Prince songs.) If you want to keep up-to-date on TDK-related news, point your browser to the great Batman On Film site, the definitive clearinghouse for news, rumors, video, inside info and more.

Birthday Comes Two Weeks Early

My birthday will be arriving two weeks early this year.

No, government officials have not announced some kind of weird calendar reboot to reverse the effects of global warming. Instead, November 15 is the release date for All Over But the Shouting: An Oral History of The Replacements.

From Amazon.com:

At the dawn of “Morning in America” – a period that would nurse the rise of suit-and-tie culture – there emerged a national network of anti-corporate record shops, college radio stations, fanzines, nightclubs, and entrepreneurial record labels. In the watershed year 1981, this “indie” scene fostered several seminal releases. Among recordings by bands such as Sonic Youth, Black Flag, Hüsker Dü, The Minutemen, and R.E.M. was an album called Sorry Ma . . . Forgot to Take Out the Trash, recorded by a scruffy, flannel-clad quartet from Minneapolis called The Replacements.

Now, for the first time, all of the hearsay, half-truths, legends, and allegations associated with this maelstrom of a rock & roll band are unraveled in this oral history by longtime Twin Cities music journalist Jim Walsh. Through interviews with family, friends, and fans; former manager Peter Jesperson; Twin/Tone record label cofounder Paul Stark; and musicians around the nation influenced by the band, Walsh lays bare with painful clarity a tale that unfolds like a tragicomedy in three perfect acts. Celebrated by national publications, “the ’Mats” often seemed more hell-bent on sabotaging their status as critical darlings than parlaying it. With their markedly apolitical stance amid their decidedly political peers, their uncool embrace of “classic rock” influences like KISS and The Faces, and their Dionysian appetites (and the resulting tendency to literally fall on their own faces), The Replacements lasted 12 years despite themselves. From the band’s founding to their rise through the local and national club circuits, their major label deal in 1985, and the slow and painful implosion that followed, The Replacements: All Over But the Shouting lays down the gripping oral history behind the little band that could – but didn’t.