WHAT’S THAT SONG? is a track by track tour through the discography of the only band that matters … THE REPLACEMENTS.
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Written by: Paul Westerberg
available on SORRY MA, FORGOT TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH (EXPANDED EDITION) ℗ 1981 Rykodisc, Inc. Provided to YouTube by Ryko/Rhino
Drunk. Cowardice. Masturbation
Thematically that was me circa my. mid 20s. And late 20s. And part of my 30s And two Christmases ago at my parents. They are the key words to how I once approached dating. Or … more specifically .. wanting to date. Or ... sadly ... misinterpreting that one night stands were achievable. And that achievement would soundtrack itself into long term drama. True love, as portrayed on a mix tape. And that mix tape ... like any mix tape ... unspooled with at least one life lesson mangled by the muttering of The Replacements.
I discovered the Replacements out order and at varying ages so my relationship with their discography is a shuffled deck. And one of the more wild cards of that horrible analogy is their very first release, a 45 of their debut single “I’m In Trouble” coupled with, at least for the 1990s, an obscure and difficult to find B-Side entitled “If Only You Were Lonely.” It was a staple of their live shows, so I had it on a bootleg but ... I never paid it much attention. It wasn’t on an album release. And, despite the fact that EBay had helped me build a four panel piece of wall art from their original Twin Tone releases , I never sought a copy of this two song single. Even if I had, it would of just been for the bragging rights of a completist. Truthfully... as a song ... I’m not really drawn to it.
“If Only You Were Lonely” makes of itself the same misdirect I initially made of the band in that... its solo Paul Westerberg. Him, his guitar and the hung over fumes of a surprisingly sharp basement demo. That’s not to say it was recorded at his home (it definitely sounds clear and studio quality). It more that, for a four piece band that was just making its mark, this two song selection should have unveiled four flannel scruff identities. And you sort of get it, with the two minutes and 40 seconds of the actual title track. “I’m In Trouble” which is what would have gotten this into the demographic hands of disfranchised punks bundled in beer to catch their favorite noise in the din of a community ash tray doubling as a performance space.
1981 was a good year to be malcontent. I’m told. I mean, I was 4 in one of the more rural parts of small town Connecticut. But multiply that by itself and and strand it in Minneapolis and you’d be tacking up mimeographed fliers for basement shows that would never pass code. The Suicide Machines and Suburban Comandoes we’re making noise that mattered and these Replacements, whose median age averaged to 19, aimed to be part of this.
So, if you had that friend, who was telling you about the band that struggled through a Buzzcocks cover with an 8th grader on Bass you’d at least remember their name. And when that name showed up up on a paper thin sleeve at the local record store, you’d at least be interested. But after you brought it home, having spun it on your turntable, that initial bubble of expectation would be burst by the strange hiccup of an alien transmission.
Was this acoustic? Was this a ballad? Was this ... country?
I was predisposed not to like country music. Maybe its nots genetic as the Gambler played a LOT growing up, but i was no fan off the genre. And this song had that certain twang. There was the gal glimpsed from the spinning POV of a bar stool. But instead of some drawl in a gallon or two hat, our cowboy spills his first shot with post modern desperation.
“...I ain’t very good, but I get practice by myself.”
That line came be interpreted two ways, both with the inclination of a self-service hand job.
The closer to romantic one is that he’s not the kind of guy to normally approach a lady. Sure, he can daydream, fantasize, and practice in front of a mirror but... to actually cross over to her... is worth a heroic mention. See, he blanked on his come-on and, instead, bared his soul, acknowledging that she’s far out of his league. Its a pedestal engraved as a compliment now bearing the added weight of our rom-com protagonist. That’s exactly the sort of self-indulgence my 20 something self could get behind. Pre-packed humility meant to win over whatever “Insert Girl Here” I was inserting.
But that lyric, “I ain’t pretty good but I get practice on myself” could just as easily be the defeat of never leaving the barstool. And look, I’m not applauding the deluded flirtation I previously detailed but, if you are going to ask the audience to sympathize, the least you can do is take the risk. Instead of staying put to script any ingenue’s response without offering a hint that you’re into them. That’s just rehearsing both parts and then filing it away with the other unproduced episodes.
Of course those episodes need a soundtrack. And with this one labeled a Replacements song, I eventually got around to using it. But calling it a Replacements song ... is that an accurate label? Not really. I mean… there’s no Bob hiked up in a skirt. No reflection of Chris glimpsed in a hi-hat. And I can’t imagine it would have kept the attention of 8th grade Tommy. No, this song is a solo outing for the intoxicated insight of one Paul Westerberg (yeah, apparently he gets a last name).
I came to this song late and already singing the praises of Paul Westerberg’s solo career. In fact, the years I spent amassing the Mats studio catalog were pretty much bookended by his first and second album. So I kind of just tacked this song onto his ongoing ouvre. It was a subtle curiosity of his creative development, Memorexed onto a second hand collection of demos and rarities.
The Paul Westerberg I knew dealt in waggish wordplay and neurotic insight. And with that as a filter, “If Only You Were Lonely” became a parody of genre. You could play with the conventions of country to illustrate how unheroic its narrator was. Such a reinterpretation almost grants the song a sudden maturity. I say “almost” because this song is not actually that reminisce of a man in his 30s. It was written to be the forgotten ballad of an otherwise punk band. Something for its author to whisper while the world misconstrues him as a drunk. No one in 1981 was going to listen to Paul Westerberg’s sentimentality. So, despite his lyrical leaning, he had to self serve himself up as something more crass.
But, for being a song I'm really not that crazy about, it pretty much sums up what I was finding in the Replacements. See I wasn’t a punk kid but I liked punk music. So I stabbed safety pins into my tattered coat as a way of passing through that venue. And during the shows, I would hold a stool at the bar and magnify my alcoholism through well-worded ramblings meant to hold anyone’s attention. It was all very romantic to me. And I leveraged that romance with the sort of self-serving poetry that kept actual insights at a safe distance. When that show was over I could finally go home and curse why I was alone while spinning out to some lyrics by the band that knew me best.
“Somewhere there’s a smile with my name on it” are the closing lines to this one. And that little bit of ownership they express was my own sentiment toward the band. I had decided, through the grand design of what I had already heard, that this band was to be my life … er… story. That every word stitched to music and sequenced by album could be laid out in illustration of what it meant to be me. That meant sometimes fudging things a bit to fit the content but hey, as long as it saved on actual interaction. So you, by yourself in that corner … if you already liked the band … wouldn’t you already like me? Let me slur their words instead of my own and pretend that that’s enough to be.
Drunk. Cowardice. Masturbation.
If only you were lonely. And if only I could play guitar.
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MUSIC FEATURED IN TODAY’S EPISODE:
”DENIGRATING FLANNEL” (main theme) performed and composed by The Madeline Priors.
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“WHAT’S THAT SONG” returns tomorrow holding a second hand copy of SORRY MA, FORGOT TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH.