Aaron: With this entry we jump across the pond for our first look at an American contribution to the 1980s scenes we’ve been discussing – that seminal, rag-tag, punk/power-pop band from Minneapolis, The Replacements. And we’ve got a very special treat this time around – joining us for the discussion is my old friend Chris Dall, himself a resident of Minneapolis. More importantly, it was Chris more than anybody else who switched me on to the great indie music that had been coming out in the 1980s. And it was Chris, most definitely, who turned me into the ‘Mats fan that I remain today.
Lew and I will both take part in the conversation, but since Chris is our guest, we’ve asked him to choose the track up for discussion and to give it a brief introduction. So, Chris, what can you tell us about the song we’ll be talking about?
Chris: For my contribution to this blog and its examination of ‘80s musical genres, I’ve chosen the song “I Will Dare” by The Replacements, the band that, along with REM, introduced me to what was at the time called “Indie Rock.” I first became aware of The Replacements in 1986, when they released their first major label album, “Tim,” made a drunken appearance on Saturday Night Live, and by some accounts had already sold out. Knowing nothing about them but what was on that album, I immediately fell in love with their music. By the end of 1986 my cassette of “Tim” was pretty well worn, and I wanted to explore what had come before.
That fact that Let It Be has no one song that really captures its essence makes it hard to select one song to write about, but I ultimately decided on the one that begins the album. What strikes me about “I Will Dare” is that on an album marked by shambling, unfocused sprawl, it is perhaps the most concise and complete song ever written by Paul Westerberg. At its core it’s really a simple song. There’s no bridge, just verses and chorus interrupted by a guitar solo (and a slightly off-key mandolin solo by none other than Peter Buck of REM), with a great shuffle beat driven by the drumming of Chris Mars and the bassline of Tommy Stinson. On first listen, the song sounds deceptively upbeat and jangly, but what comes through on repeated listens is the hard, punk edge of the bass and drums, with the driving overlay of the lead guitar mimicking the bass line. It’s punk rockabilly, raw and pure and vibrant. And lyrically, it has all the classic Westerberg themes: inadequacy masked by bravado. “How smart are you?/How dumb am I?/Don’t count any/of my advice.” And what makes this song great is that it sounds just as fresh today as it did when I first heard it.
But now to the question that this blog is taking up: where does it fit on the musical spectrum? It’s raw yet not completely unrefined, stripped down but not primitive, rough-edged but melodic. It’s not punk, nor is it New Wave. The Replacements were never either of those things, but they incorporated elements of those genres into their sound, both stylistically and attitudinally, and essentially grafted them onto what was a “classic rock” template. And to me that’s what Indie rock was essentially all about. Taking a lot of the musical influences of the past and creating something new by stripping the music down to guitar, bass, and drums and then layering on melody, spirit, and emotion. And it seemed then, as it still does today, to be a reaction to the musical excess of the MTV era.
So I’ll toss it now to Aaron and Lew: what do you guys make of “I Will Dare”?
Aaron: Thanks, Chris, that’s a great introduction to the song, and your description really conveys a lot of the reasons I like it so much. It took me a long time to come around to The Replacements, but when I finally started listening to them around 1990, this was one of the first songs that I found myself playing on repeat.
I’m sure I’ll have more to say about what makes the song work for me, and also how it fits in the “indie scene” (if there can be said to have been one “scene”) of the 1980s. But I’d like to pass this along to Lew first. As somebody who hasn’t spent a lot of time listening to the ‘Mats, what’s your initial reaction to this song? Also, to be a bit more specific, I’m wondering what you think about Chris’s description of the song as mixing the rawness of punk with a standard sort of classic rock. Also, do you agree with his assessment that song still “sounds fresh today?”
Lew: Well guys, I have to admit, I wasn’t completely bowled over by “I Will Dare” out of the gate. It seemed pleasant, and maybe a little inconsequential. After reading Chris’s intro piece, I gave it a few more listens, and it grew on me a bit. However, what really made the difference was taking some time to dig into Let It Be as an album, and then coming back around to “I Will Dare.” The album itself is a great piece of raw recording and songwriting, with a lot to recommend it. So, with that added perspective, I went back and listened to “I Will Dare,” and it made a lot more sense to me in the context of the album, rather than as a standalone. As you rightly point out, Chris, it’s tough to find a song that really sums up Let It Be. The album spans quite a gamut of songwriting, so almost any one song is bound to be misleading, if taken as representative of the album as a whole. I’m not sure I’d say that The Replacements were “trying on” different sounds for Let It Be – that sounds a bit pejorative – but, to my ears, they were definitely restless and experimenting. From that angle, “I Will Dare” is as interesting as any of the other songs on the album, and as viable for examination. And, it’s a quality pop song.
Aaron, to answer your questions, I do agree that the song mixes a punk sound with something that’s a bit more classic rock in origin. That makes sense, considering that bands like The Who and The Kinks can probably be thought of as the earliest punk bands (at least up to a point). From looking at a couple of interviews with Paul Westerberg, he seems to have been influenced by ‘70s rock bands (the version of Kiss’s “Black Diamond” on Let It Be definitely supports that idea), and also to have quite a broad range of musical tastes. Is it fair to say that he was most responsible for the diverse influences on Let It Be?
As to whether “I Will Dare” sounds fresh? I’m not sure, but I don’t think it sounds dated, except in the sense that it, along with the rest of the album, really seems to forecast the music that alternative bands from the Midwest would make in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Is it accurate to say that The Replacements were one of the catalyst bands for the Minneapolis scene, or were there bands that predated them?
Returning to “I Will Dare,” I’m glad that you listened to all of Let It Be to put the song in context. It wasn’t until I put the album on repeat and listened to it a few times that I was able to write about “I Will Dare” in any meaningful way. On it’s own, I’m not sure the song really stands out. As you say, there’s not necessarily one song on Let It Be that captures the album better than any other, but in my mind “I Will Dare” is the most polished pop song of the bunch, and an indication of the band’s potential. On an album with many high notes (and some low notes, which all Replacements albums had), “I Will Dare” is the song that showed they had the potential to be a really great rock and roll band.
You’re right to assume, Lew, that Paul Westerberg was the main artistic force in the band, though not the only one. (His claim to that role was on the reasons why the band eventually split.) But I think you can hear a lot of his influences on the album. Ultimately, Westerberg was a fairly conventional songwriter who took a lot of cues from the songwriters of the ‘60s and ‘70s. And while the band started on the fringes of the hardcore scene, what you hear on the album are his, and the band’s, efforts to further distance themselves from hardcore (a journey that began on the previous album Hootenany) and move closer to conventional rock, albeit with a punk edge. Although the term “post punk” never really caught on as a marketing label, that’s essentially what the Replacements were.
I think that’s where the conversation gets into where to put a band like The Replacements within this conversation you two are having about the music of the ‘80s. While I chose to write about The Replacements because I’m a fan and because they have been an influential group, I wouldn’t necessarily say they were revolutionary, for lack of a better word. They didn’t take music in a new direction. What makes them worthy of discussion is that they, along with bands like REM and Hüsker Dü, created a new iteration of the concept of the rock band. They weren’t larger-than-life rock gods, they weren’t angry young punks, they weren’t art school rockers, they weren’t creations of the video era. They were garage bands who had the talent to make smart, meaningful rock music on their own terms. And they paved the way for a lot of bands to be successful when indie rock became mainstream.
Aaron: Well, guys, this is a great conversation so far, and you’ve introduced a lot of threads that I’d love to tackle, but I’ll try and keep from getting too long-winded here. First I think it might be worth taking up a line that you’ve both brought up about the band’s influences. We’ve talked quite a bit already in this series about where both The Cure and Iron Maiden have drawn some of their influences. Sticking to the indie side of things, I think it’s safe to say that The Replacements are much more . . . American-centric? . . . than The Cure. As far as post-punk, or late punk, or New Wave goes, it’s pretty easy to see how the American bands we’re talking about are looking back not only to the American classic rock you’ve mentioned, but also the early American roots of punk, with bands like The Stooges or The Ramones. Whereas The Cure had a much more Brit/Euro approach in calling on everything from Glam to Kraut rock to New Romanticism. Would you say that, even keeping in mind bands like The Sex Pistols and The Clash, American punk in the ‘70s was a bit more garage than British punk?
But getting back to “I Will Dare,” one of the things I think is great about it, and one of the things that I think makes Let It Be more polished than it at first comes across as, is that, as the lead track, it not only sets the album’s tone, but it starts off what I think is a perfect sequencing choice for the album. The first side basically begins very poppy and then grows more aggressively punk up through “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out,” which could have slotted in well on the first two albums. It’s a great build up that seems to jump out of the gate right in the face of fans and then to sort of say, oh, you want hardcore, how about this? Not hard enough? How about this? And then, all of a sudden, “Androgynous.” Which could only have been the most wtf moment on the album if it weren’t followed by a freakin’ Kiss cover!
Side Two is a little more ragged in its sequencing choices, but the key, I think, is that it starts off with “Unsatisfied,” and it’s here that I might disagree a bit with some of the things you’ve both said. “Unsatisfied” is not only the quintessential Let It Be song, I’d say it’s the quintessential Westerberg (if not Replacements) song. I’m glad you didn’t choose it, Chris, because I think “I Will Dare” has been a lot less picked over. But I do see an important connection between the two in the way they lead off their respective sides. Side One is about attitude and, even to a certain extent, hope. It has its aggressive moments, but they’re coming from a place of empowerment. Even “Androgynous,” with its mournful melody, is in your face in the way it declares that the kids are going to do whatever they want to do. Side Two, on the other hand, is much more defeatist. It’s like, after the bravado of the first side, the band or Westerberg or the “singer” went out, “dared,” and realised that it leads nowhere. As Becket might say, “nothing to be done.” And this brings me back to thinking about why this album is so beloved by the band’s fans: Paul Westerberg is one of the greatest lyricists of weariness and that bitter-sweet feeling that comes from having tried and failed, and Let It Be seems to capture so many facets of that process. In that sense, “I Will Dare” is the perfect song to kick off the album because in some ways it’s about that first attempt at making something happen. It’s got that vibrant, “I can do anything” nature about it that so well captures the feeling of invincibility that comes before failure replaces it with a feeling of worthlessness. I’d argue it’s the honesty with which Westerberg describes that process that is a large part of what makes Let It Be (and the band) “indie” rather than punk or straight up rock.
Lew: Aaron, I agree that American punk bands of the ‘70s were more garage than their British counterparts, and probably less concerned with being seen as somehow separate from the rock bands that preceded them. I’d go so far as to say that “Psycho Killer,” and “I Wanna Be Sedated” have a closer connection to songs like “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” and “My Generation,” than “Anarchy in the UK” or “London Calling.” Where the latter two seem to be making a broader social commentary, each of the other four, while positioning a narrator as generally alienated from his/her social context, avoid broad observations about that context. In that same sense, I’d say that The Replacements strike me as having more in common with British Invasion bands than they do punk bands of their own era.
In thinking about the role of a narrator in rock music, as well as Aaron’s remarks about Paul Westerberg as a lyricist of weariness and disappointment, I got to thinking about the themes expressed by rock lyricists. While there are some subjects that seem to continually recur in rock songs – love, heartbreak, and so on – the topics described by narrators of rock songs changed over the course of the ‘60s and ‘70s and into the ‘90s, where a more personal, confessional style of narration increasingly became the norm in rock music. While Bob Dylan and John Lennon (among many notable examples) certainly provided a guideline for a change in lyrical style, I suspect that either of them would have been surprised to see the frank discussion of sex, drugs and self-harm that populated rock radio in the ‘90s, at the time they were providing that blueprint. In contrast, the ‘80s is commonly thought of as a decade of frivolity, with pop metal and pop artists writing songs about fairly commercial topics. While I don’t completely agree with that characterization, it’s interesting to hold The Replacements up to that backdrop, since they seem in so many ways to have been a band out of time – almost anachronistic, in some respects.
I would guess that we’d all agree that punk is a major influence on the confessionalism that became popular in the ‘90s. The expressive themes of punk songs found a home in safer, more melodic settings, simultaneously allowing ‘90s rock stars to lay claim to a greater degree of authenticity than the ‘80s metal bands that preceded them by writing about “real” life experience. With that said, and keeping in mind The Replacements’ own progression from hardcore to the more melodic songs on Let It Be, I wonder if Paul Westerberg can be seen as an individual, highly accelerated example of that exact progression. Listening to Let It Be – if not for the first time, at least the first time I was paying close attention – I couldn’t help thinking that it sounded like an album that could have been released in 1994, and captured a good part of the expressive range that would be common for ‘90s bands. Is it fair to say that The Replacements are anomalous, or would you guys be more inclined to say, conversely, that they’re at the extreme forward edge of a movement?
Chris: Interesting thoughts, Lew. While I wouldn’t argue that the Replacements broke any new ground musically (at their best I think they perfected a post-punk sound that many other bands were trying to achieve), I do think Paul Westerberg’s songwriting provided a blueprint for the bands of the ‘90s. While Westerberg certainly wasn’t the first confessional singer songwriter, his blend of jaded weariness and cynicism, and his willingness to write about his own failings and feelings of insecurity, gave those who came after him a new avenue for song topics. Write about yourself, warts and all, and don’t hold anything back. For those who were fans of the Replacements, that was a huge part of the appeal. Sure, Westerberg had cool hair and was in this great rock band, but fans connected with him because when it came down to it, he seemed like a pretty regular guy who had the same hopes and fears that many of us have. And the “alternative” bands of the ‘90s ran with that blueprint. They sang about their insecurities, their fucked up families and relationships, and they connected with their fans on a very personal level.
Not to go off on too much of a tangent here, but what’s interesting to me, Lew, is how that brand of confessional songwriting differed from the brand that dominated the ‘70s (with artists like James Taylor, Carol King, and Neil Young, just to name a few). Those artists, while they were still writing about their lives and their experiences, were very much a part of the music industry machine, a machine that made them “rock stars” and thereby put them on a different plane from their fans. While an artist like Neil Young may not be someone we associate with the excess of ‘70s rock, he still had a huge, secluded ranch in California that he could disappear into to make his records. And so while Neil Young may have been writing very personal songs, I’m not sure his fans connected to those songs in the way that a Replacements fan connected to Paul Westerberg’s songs. I think it was a very different relationship.
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| Black Flag's Henry Rollins diving into a crowd |
Aaron: Nicely put, guys. I’m not sure if I’ve got a lot to add to what you two have said in this last exchange. I think combined you’ve done a great job of establishing The Replacements’ and Westerberg’s roles in the development of both the post-punk indie scene and the confessional songwriting tradition. And Lew, I really like that idea that the ‘Mats’ progression from hardcore to melodic is highly representative of a similar progression in a certain, wide strain of American indie rock.
In terms of how Westerberg’s confessionalism differed from that of his ‘70s predecessors, I agree that a lot of it has to do with economics, but of both the individuals and of their eras. Chris, those artists you mentioned from the ‘70s were not only rich, but they were coming of age in an era of plenty, and (like it or not) and era when politics was front and centre and “the personal was political.” So their personalised lyrics often sprang out of a place of, if not comfort, at least financial security (as you mentioned). The ‘80s, with its Reganomics and depressed cities and unemployment was a very different era. I think part of the reason, Lew, that the image of the ‘80s was one of an era of frivolity as you mention probably had a lot to do with escapism (perhaps, in some ways, similar to the reason that blockbuster films like Top Gun and E. T. took the place of grittier ‘70s fare like Taxi Driver or Chinatown). But for a confessional songwriter like Westerberg, escapism isn’t a choice – he’s not going to write about his “secluded ranch,” since that was dream not even worth dreaming, but, rather, bumming cigarettes and the girl down the street, and pretty much being totally fucking bored. I think that, Chris, is part of what made his songs so appealing – because they’re so grounded in a reality that seems tangible and relatable, whereas the confessionalism of Dylan, Lennon, Young, etc (as much as I love it), is much more idealistic, which makes it more abstract in a way.
I guess another thing worth pointing out is that The Replacements were a Minneapolis band. I’m perhaps not the best amongst us to talk about this, so I’ll only mention it. But the burgeoning Minneapolis punk scene seems to have been very different than those in LA and New York. And because bands like The ‘Mats and Hüsker Dü (and even Soul Asylum) were so de-centered from the big scenes on the coasts, they were, in a sense, freer to craft their own kinds of punk. Would that be fare to say, Chris? Not that they formed a “school” or anything like that, because the three bands are very different. But the importance of that I think, which is huge, is that they put a city on the map that wasn’t LA, NYC, Detroit or Chicago, which, in terms of rock music had pretty much dominated the decades before. Is it possible that this opened up the idea that there might be “scenes” in other cities as well, most particularly the Seattle scene that was just about to explode?
Lew: Aaron, you make some great points. I think that your observation that The Replacements weren’t from LA/NYC/Chicago/Detroit, and the effect that had on their sound/songwriting is right on the money, and really, goes hand-in-hand with the type of confessionalism favored by Paul Westerberg. I completely agree that his approach to lyrics is a lot less overtly idealistic than writers like Dylan or John Lennon, although I think that Paul Westerberg’s writing might act as a kind of callback to the topics chosen by earlier, more idealistic writers, because his sense of weariness and disappointment seems to be, in some sense, reacting to a loss of those ideals. As you say, the American landscape of the 1980s – particularly the landscape removed from those central locations mentioned above – reflects its own set of disappointments, namely, the growing realization that the possibilities envisioned by the artists and musicians of the ‘60s and ‘70s had fallen drastically short, and that the art of such a hopeful era had been generally subsumed by a culture industry that re-cast it as a commodity (obviously, one could make a strong case that this observation only serves to pull the curtain back on a consumerist undercurrent that was always present, even at the height of ‘60s idealism).
To circle back to Let It Be, within the lens of this conversation, I’d like to take another look at the way “I Will Dare” and “Unsatisfied” inform one another. Aaron, you made a remark earlier that the way each song kicks off its own side of the album is significant to the way the songs unfold from there, and also that “Unsatisfied” might represent a different moment in the narrator’s experience – that sense of having dared, and having it come to nothing. I think that’s a strong interpretation, and I agree with it. But, I’d also like to add that I think the album, as a whole, presents both of those conditions as existing at the same time; the sense of boredom and restlessness comes out of dissatisfaction, but there’s also a hopefulness that re-emerges in “I Will Dare.” It’s having those two thing happening at the same time that makes the album so unique, for me.
I can’t help thinking that if The Replacements had come to fruition in a larger music scene, some of edges would have been sanded off, and maybe the emotional complexity of what Westerberg’s trying to express would have gotten simplified into something more in line with what was happening around him.
Chris: Wow, a lot to chew on from both of you. I’ll start with the Minneapolis scene, at least the indie strain of that scene. While I don’t think I’m any more qualified than either of you to discuss the Minneapolis music scene of the ‘80s, I think there are a few things worth mentioning. While they were different bands stylistically, The Replacements, Hüsker Dü and Soul Asylum all essentially evolved from the hardcore scene and shared that DIY sensibility. And while Hüsker Dü seemed to be angrier (or angstier, if that’s a word) than the Replacements and Soul Asylum, the songs that Bob Mould and Grant Hart were writing were also very personal and confessional, with less bravado and cheekiness than Westerberg’s material. Did the Minneapolis music scene shape that type of songwriting? It’s hard to say.
But to your point, Aaron, I agree that the development of the Minneapolis scene is one of the key features in the development of indie rock and really one of the things that changed the way that the music biz “discovered” musical acts. What I mean by that is that the “success” of the Minneapolis scene enabled music scenes to develop in places like Seattle and Athens and Northampton and other places around the country, and enabled bands to develop their own sound and find success on their own terms. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, artists and bands had to go to New York/LA/Chicago/Detroit to get discovered. With the development of smaller music scenes around the country, and small record labels, that was no longer the case. And the major labels started to catch on to this. I think having a supportive music community enabled bands like The Replacements to hone their sound free of interference from the major labels. Some may argue that they lost something after they went a major label, but I don’t think their sound really changed all that much. Would Westerberg have developed differently as a songwriter had the band headed to LA or NY early on? Again, hard to say. But I think that by staying in Minneapolis they were able to make the music they wanted to make.
I think you both make some interesting points regarding what Westerberg’s confessional style of songwriting was a reaction to. And again it brings it back to punk, which was a reaction to what had come before both musically and lyrically. I think part of the frustration voiced by punk bands was toward the artists of the late ‘60s and ‘70s who had sung about peace and love and changing the world, but had achieved nothing. Lyrically, a lot of punk songs reflect that sense of disappointment and disaffection not just with the system, but the bands and artists that had professed to fight the system. They may have found success and stardom, but they didn’t change the world in any meaningful way. So for some of the songwriters (like Westerberg) who bridged that gap between punk and indie rock, idealism was not only not an option, but also a dead end.
Finally, to bring it back to Let It Be. I think it’s interesting to juxtapose the bravado of “I Will Dare” with the despair of “Unsatisfied,” and I’ll add that the final song on the album, “Answering Machine,” ends things on an even bleaker note. Is the girl Westerberg’s trying to woo in “I Will Dare” the same one he’s begging to pick up the phone in “Answering Machine”? That question just occurred to me. But again, it’s Westerberg writing about something pretty mundane, but the desperation in his voice makes it a really powerful statement about the difficulty of truly connecting with another person, and how technology makes it even more difficult. If there is a theme to this album, it’s that growing up and becoming an adult is a thrilling and confusing and heartbreaking journey. “I Will Dare” starts the album with the thrill, and “Answering Machine” ends it with the heartbreak.
Aaron: And heartbreak is where we’ll leave it! Before we sign off, we’d like to give a heartfelt thanks to Chris for pitching in on this round of Track Chatter - Chris, it’s been a real pleasure talking with you about the ‘Mats like this, you’ve definitely brought an insight to the chat that would have been lacking without you. And you’re always free to pop around in the future!
Coming next: The ‘80s LA Metal Scene - that’s right, the ‘80s LA Metal scene! Will punk still manage to make its ghostly presence felt?
(For more of Chris’s writing, check out his own blog, The Casual Fan: http://chrisdall.blogspot.com/)
(Oh, and Chris wanted to leave us with one final thought about life in Minneapolis: “On a side note, I live about 10 blocks from Paul Westerberg, and over the years I’ve caught fleeting glimpses of him around the neighborhood. Since we’ve started this conversation, I swear I’ve seen him about 10 times … in the liquor store, at the local co-op, walking his dog. Just today I saw him riding his bike, carrying a bag from Trader Joe’s. It’s good to be reminded that your heroes are, when it comes down to it, regular people.”)
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