Perhaps the most significant collection of misfits to
emerge in the 1980s, Minneapolis-based The Replacements were a group
unquestionably deserving of crossover success, at their peak releasing a series of albums that screamed mainstream appeal which never really eventuated. From their early
snarling and hissing punk-laden beginnings, the group matured surprisingly
quickly with the sublime release Let It
Be in 1984, an album that gained so much acclaim that the group was granted
an inevitable major label contract with Sire Records, leading to the release of
their fourth album Tim in 1985.
Originally intended to be handled by Big Star’s Alex
Chilton, the production duties on Tim were
instead managed by punk contemporary Tommy Ramone, and with the financial
backing of a major label, Tim sees a
vast technical upgrade over the rather sparse, budgeted Let It Be. True to the band’s style, the opening track “Hold My
Life” wastes no time setting the tone of much of the album, roaring into life
with a mess of heavy guitar, crashing drums and pounding bass, along with lead
vocalist Paul Westerberg howling with the spirit of a young Bruce Springsteen,
but with an indifferent, adolescent edge – “Hold my life until I’m ready to use
it / Hold my life because I just might lose it”. Slightly more refined but just
as emphatic, the following “I’ll Buy” is a rollicking number that not just
evokes 50s Rock ‘n Roll, but references it (“Movies are for retards like me and
Maybelline”) and it’s here that the album’s higher-end production style becomes
its greatest asset, with Westerberg’s vocals jumping from prolonged wails of
“Anything you want, dear” and “Everything you say, dear” to powerful reverberating bursts of “fine, fine, fine, fine” and “buy,
buy, buy, buy”.
An endearing, backhanded ballad to unfriendly flight
attendants, the thumping, folk-driven “Waitress in the Sky” is among the
album’s highlights, as Westerberg cruelly points out “You ain’t nothing but a
waitress in the sky”, later comparing the term ‘air hostess’ with other
professions that are somewhat unsavoury (“Sanitation expert and a maintenance
engineer / Garbage man, a janitor and you my dear”). The closer of the album’s
first side, “Swingin Party” presents itself as evidence of the band’s ability
to shift in tempo, featuring delightfully breezy, jangly guitar along with
prolonged, heartfelt and pained vocals by Westerberg. It’s a track filled with
so much self-deprecation and insecurity that it’s almost unbearable, as
Westerberg laments his future (“Quittin’ school and goin’ to work and never
goin’ fishin’”) as well as bleakly putting his faults on display (“If being
wrong’s a crime I’m serving forever / If being strong is what you want I need
help with this here feather”)
Completing a superb one-two punch of track sequencing, the
opener of the album’s second half “Bastards of Young” is without a doubt the
ultimate rambunctious punk anthem, with Westerberg continuously screaming over relentless,
blistering guitar work by Bob Stinson. As gnarly and hard as this track is, the
poignancy of Westerberg’s lyrics are remarkably striking and hard-hitting (“The
ones who love us best are the ones we lay to rest / The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please”) all the while chastising the state of
Reagan’s ruthless, competition-driven America – “God what a mess on the ladder
of success / Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung”, and the
refrain “We are the sons of no-one / Bastards of young” typifies a sort of confused,
adolescent sense of marginalisation. This track was fittingly chosen for the
band’s network debut on Saturday Night
Live, which has since become infamous not just for its raucousness, but
also the band’s conduct – Westerberg cursed on air and the band stumbled around
drunkenly on stage after concluding the song. Although this wasn’t a huge shock
to Replacements fans (they were notorious for their hectic live performances),
it was a bit of a setback for the band, receiving a lifetime ban from the show
and probably hurting their chances of further mainstream exposure.
After the adrenalin-infused college radio staples “Lay It
Down Clown”, “Left of the Dial” (the title itself a reference to college radio)
and “Little Mascara” is the down-tempo, miserable closing track “Here Comes a
Regular”, featuring just acoustic guitar alongside Westerberg’s morose vocals. As
the album’s final chance to impart anything on Westerberg’s generation, he
warns against idly sitting in a state of procrastination and apathy – “The fool
who wastes his life, god rest his guts” all in the context of a narrator in a bar,
watching the seasons pass as the people around him come and go, while he just
stays at home and endlessly drinks. I’ve always regarded R.E.M. as America’s
counterpart to The Smiths, but after hearing tracks like this, I’d say The
Replacements are probably more fitting of that comparison – particularly when
considering Westerberg’s emotionally-driven, introspective lyrics as well as
his undeniably emphatic presence as a vocalist, not to mention chaotic and
captivating displays by Stinson, who resented playing compositions similar to “Here
Comes a Regular”, eventually being ejected from the band.
Overall, Tim is
an astonishing, breath-taking record, carrying the listener through soaring
highs and subterranean lows over indisputably passionate and energetic
instrumentation, with Westerberg being the ideal spokesperson for a
disillusioned generation of young Americans, his grizzly, throaty voice at
times furious, other times forlorn. It’s a flawless collection of songs from a
band that flew far too low under the radar, but as a consolation their output
has been consistently ranked by critics as among the greatest achievements of
the era, and deservedly so. Simply put, Tim
is the quintessential rock record, easily a must-have for any music fan.
A+
-Karl
