Paul Westerberg

Rip It Up, Issue 161, 1 December 1990, Page 14

Paul Westerberg

Talk about the best-laid plans going astray. After successfully scouting out a Minneapolis bistro with a drool-inducing wine list as the ideal locale to loosen the lips of Replacements mainman Paul Westerberg, the visiting scribe is shocked to hear that Paul's been hitched to the wagon for a full month. "Magazines always send us their drunks, their fuck-ups —people they think can relate to us!" Westerberg says. "You wouldn't believe the number of journalists we've had to carry out from Replacements interviews, and then their articles are always half full of descriptions of their hangovers!"

Westerberg playfully teases the drinking scribe while toying with his sixth bottle of non-alcohlic beer, seemingly enjoying the flight of the curveball he's thrown with the revelation of his sobriety. Normally another rock n'roll star drying out is no major news but the Replacements, along with the Pogues, have written the book on drunken rock n'roll revelry. The smell of booze soaks through their now lengthy catalogue—eight albums overtheirl 1 yearexistence—and much of the Replacement's legendary live reputation is based on the sloppy, drunken spontaneity of their shows. You could even make a case for analysing Paul Westerberg's lyrics and music strictly in terms of the effects of excess grape and hops consumption on bis muse. Variously loud, obnoxious, sentimental, funny, melancholy and emotional, his songs mirrorthe moods of the heavy drinker but they stem from the pen of a writer with an open heart, a sharp intellect and a genuine flair for melody. Quite how sobriety will affect Westerberg's work remains a mystery but it certainly hasn't diminished his conversational skills or his generous personality. Overthe course of four hours split between a couple of his favorite haunts and a downtown stroll, he reflected candidly on, well, just about everything. The key topic, of course, is All Shook Down, the new album from the Replacements that isn't, we discover, strictly a Replacements' record. "I made the record with a group of musicians. The Replacements among them," explains Paul, "There were only one ortwo songs on which all four Replacements played. I didn't wantto call itthe Replacements but you can't do that if the record company has 'The Replacements' on the contract. "I wanted the music to come first. To hell with the name. We're just four guys who play music. I hearsongs

that may sound differently than they can play. I'm not going to settle for their playing if I don'tthink it'sfairto the song. Yes, it was difficultforthe others. (bassist Tommy Stinson, drummer Chris Mars, guitarist Slim Dunlap) to take. I told them first that I wanted to do it all alone and that didn't fly but I think they've come to grips with it now. I'm saying The Replacements' isn't a sacred cow. It's a name we use to play live but let's break away from that." Ratherthan signalling the inevitable death of the band, Westerberg's stance can be viewed as him flexing his muscles as leader, reminding his comrades that it is, in essecne, his show. "Overthe years, I talked myself into being one-fourth of a unit but, frankly, that got stifling," he says, "The other guys had songs they wanted to do but in my estimation they weren't as good as mine. In a true democracy I'd allow them to do some and put mine on hold, butthen I thought'Damn it. I'd rather just make my own music'. True democracy neverworks in a band." Whether it's seen as a Paul Westerberg record ora Replacements record, All Shook Down is his best work yet, a superbly written collection of songs played by some stellar musicians. His supporting cast includes saxophonist Steve Berlin (Los Lobos), drummer Charlie Drayton (Keith Richards), John Cale bn viola, Heartbreaker Benmont Tench on keyboards and Concrete Blonde's Johnette Napolitano on vocals on 'My Little Problem', the raunchiest Replacements-style cut on the album. Fervent Replacements fans who were disappointed in last year's overly produced outing Don't tell A Soul, may have anticipated or hoped fora return to the loud, raw guitar anthems that propelled the band to rock hero status through the 80s. But Paul wasn't about to cater to their craving. He does, however, agree with criticisms of Don't Tell A Soul. "I think there was pressure on co-producer Matt Wallace from the