Pre-Show
Expectation has the power to be a damning thing. High hopes
can be Mrs. Dashed like so much mechanically separated and store bought chicken
in America’s suburbs in the 1980s. Exposing those who dress up the bland with
so much promised pizazz that they hope you forget it’s just the same crap as
always underneath the hype. Superstars can become mere musicians and bands can
transform into everyday people on a slightly elevated platform over the course
of one evening. I can remember being somewhat devastated at a mid to late
nineties Polvo show in Boston that just didn’t live up to those seminal
records. (Polvo released a string of beauties by the way- not really a bad one
in the discography pre or post reunion) A Skylab-like descent of your respect
and admiration can be experienced song by song as bands burn up, break apart
and crash into an ocean of regret.
Not that crushing defeat is the only possibility for
expectation. Some things in life actually meet and/or exceed all previous
thoughts on the matter. In my experience, this category brings to mind Best Pizza (I’ve been told it has something to do with the yeast strain in the
dough.), Terrapin’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Porter (It smells like peanuts) and
the bucket list item of seeing J, Lou and Murph playing together on stage in a
room I was also occupying. These are all things that raised the bar on my
initial thoughts of what is possible for each of those vices.
Tomorrow, I am about to have another of these soul crushing
or life affirming moments. After years of nothing but intense record listening,
my eyes will see the glory of The Replacements attempting to play select gems
from their back catalog. Hold up- I can hear what you’re thinking. This is only
Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson. True, but Bob Stinson has passed on and Chris Mars just simply passed, meaning this is as good as it’s
ever going to be from here on out. I acknowledge this fact and take no umbrage.
Truth be told, Paul and Tommy could use a couple young guys in the band to add
some extra vitality and some structure (when needed). Most importantly, it
would be hypocritical to have an issue with the replacements in The
Replacements.
The Mats are legendary for their hit or miss shows and for
their fuck it and you attitude. Drugs and alcohol had quite a bit to do with
that worldview or at least its exaggerated form. Back in the day, their shows
could be absolute train wrecks or the best musical moment of your life. Take a
listen to their live release When The Shit Hits The Fans (a cassette only release that has been bootlegged many times over) for an audio document of this time period. My
non-researched guess is those particular indulgences (chemically at least) are
somewhat in check as middle aged, suburban family men tend to find the tread
mill and the produce section more often than bottled trouble.
I’m not going to lie- expectations are high. Higher than
they’ve been in a while as this is a significant band. The Replacements are a
bedrock piece of the foundation that supports the well-oiled machine that is today’s
independent music scene. Without bands like The Replacements, Kurt Loder’s job
would have been a lot more boring in the nineties to say the least.
Yes, I was witness to a solo Tommy Stinson show in the
twentieth century but drink was heavy that night and my familiarity with all
The Replacements albums was low at that point. Unfortunately, it is safe to say
I have no memory of that particular show except for several still images in my
mind of Tommy on stage with his guitar and thinking it was an awesome show.
Paul Westerberg, on the other hand, is still a mystery to me as a live
performer. The documentary Come Feel Me Tremble which documented his solo
tour in the early aughts did nothing but increase my anticipation with clips of
live shows that made me envious of those in attendance throughout. Hands down,
the man still has chops. Paul’s solo work the past few years has been better
than ever with Folker and 49:00 as standout moments in an already hall of fame
career. In fact, if Paul Westerberg had just announced that he would be doing
an acoustic tour this year- that would have been enough for me. To actually
tour under the Replacements’ moniker, share the stage with Tommy and perform
those songs live has taken this all the way to DEFCON 1 for me.
I am literally nervous for this show because I feel like
something real is on the line. The Replacements will always have great records
but will they also now conjure personal memories of transcendence through song?
Will this show become a cherished piece of my live music canon or an instantly
lost file in my brain? Being that this show is at The Forest Hills Tennis Stadium in Queens (aka the former home of the US Open Tennis Tournament), it
leaves me a bit anxious. I have never experienced this piece of architecture
with my eyes, my feet or (most importantly) my ears and it would appear that it
holds quite a bit of people. Will this setting be distracting? Will I get a
view of the “stage” with my general admission ticket? Answers will arrive soon
enough. In fact, they will be made available right after this sentence as 24
hours will have magically come and gone after this period.
Post-Show
What was I worried about? Those songs, that voice and the
cumulative experience on stage equaled an happening that made the world a place
worth living. The night was perfect for an outdoor show with a light breeze and
not even a slight chance of rain that always brings up the umbrella risk/reward
decision before leaving the house. Forest Hills Tennis Center turned out to be
on a scale larger than anticipated. It was a real life, honest-to-God,
1970’s-type outdoor stadium. The set up was bleacher seating ringing the
circular floor with general admission in front of a large stage that included
serious rigging, lights and the whole nine yards.
Beginning at happy hour, large swaths of jeaned people from
all over NYC were streaming to Queens for this show. It turns out the city’s
department of transportation was notified in advance and extra subway and Long
Island Rail Road commuter trains were run to accommodate the crowd. The MTA had
extra staff directing people to the show from both their subterranean stations
and on the sidewalks above. Police were everywhere as well- in cars, on foot
and on horseback as Forest Hills became inundated with pre, post and dry
drunken Mats fans. This moveable crowd skewed older but, at the same time,
allowed for pockets of youth to spring up more than you would think for a band
that split up over 20 years ago. The perfect analogy for this being the Walking
Dead like pace of the packs of middleagers filing down the blocked off streets
from the train to the venue while the younger and more able bodied weaved
through the Lipitored at a much quicker pace. Make no mistake, 40-somethings
were the kings of this crowd and an 8:30 start time and 10pm cut off probably
helped make the ticket buying decision a lot easier.
The hour and a half set list was a solid mix of their former
glories. Comprised of nearly thirty songs that drew from all their albums with
the most coming from their peak masterpieces, Let It Be and Tim. They packed in
the hits (I Will Dare, Left of the Dial, I’ll Be You) along with some odd
choices (Waitress In The Sky, unreleased in the US track Nowhere Is My Home and
b-side If Only You Were Only) as well as their inevitable covers (Jimi Hendrix,
Jackson 5, even a solo Paul Westerberg song from the cartoon movie Open Season).
The song Androgynous was a particular success as it allowed for Paul’s voice to
shine in a quieter moment while the absence of it’s trademark piano line gave
the song an even more off the cuff quality than on Let It Be.
Paul Westerberg is not a perfectionist. The simple truth is
that he doesn’t have to be given his raw talent. Perfectly weathered vocals and
an innate sense of melody balance out his historic flirtation with
self-destruction. Songs (or legendarily- entire sets) teetering on the edge of
collapse have become part of The Replacements charm. In Queens, Westerberg
carried on this tradition. He forgot a lot of the lyrics, mumbling and humming
through some verses and not making it to the mike in time for others. Hearing
him utter the words “fuck it” became almost commonplace before the night was
over. Unlike earlier in their career, the wheels were only allowed to come off
so far this time around. Paul and Tommy are older, more sober and backed by
quality session musicians in David Minehan on lead guitar and, more
importantly, Josh Freese on the drums. Freese, fresh off his recent tour with DEVO,
pounded the drums all night keeping metronomic time like he was playing along
to the records. Tommy Stinson on bass looked and sounded comfortable on a large
stage being that he has toured the world over with the in-name-only Guns N’ Roses for the past few years. That said, he was visibly excited to be playing
these songs again and interacted with the crowd consistently even feeling free
enough to tell a long story about how he tripped on an uneven sidewalk before
soundcheck and banged up his nose. The crowd would have roared in approval no
matter what and that story proved it.
The Replacements playing this surprisingly large venue was a
physical validation for the legacy and continued draw of this now classic rock
band. Their attitude, the 60s psych leaning attire and propensity for
displaying their blues roots gave them a more than subtle Rolling Stones vibe.
This fact further implanted on the subway heading back to Brooklyn after the
show. I found myself surrounded by nothing but drunken hordes of graying rock
fans who all seemed to mention knowingly that The Rolling Stones themselves
played the same tennis venue in the sixties (Apparently, it’s also a scene in
the TV show Mad Men). On reflection, Westerberg’s physical age (he having
almost a decade on Tommy) seems to have finally reached the maturity of the
sound in his head and heart which made for a confident man on stage. It may be
important to note that Paul is now in the age range of the Rolling Stones’ Mick
Jagger and Keith Richards during their tours in the 1990’s. The first
introduction to the Stones for a lot of younger fans whom only ever knew them
as wrinkled and weather-beaten older men. Westerberg now appears comfortable to
embrace that role himself and his band, instantly on reformation, have become
part of the elder statesmen of rock for their generation.
Nearing the end their set, The Replacements uncovered the
surprising highlight of the night by playing two of their biggest, Can’t
Hardly Wait followed directly by Bastards of Young. Unquestionably, two of the
most played songs of their catalog that, after twenty years of listening, you
now jump to skip on the ipod due to over saturation. Yet, as part of a large
crowd becoming a collective consciousness singing in unison from start to
finish, it was like hearing those songs again for the first time. The crowd hit
a new level of noisy appreciation and the band responded in turn by feeding off
the energy given to them. It all building to that moment near the end of
Bastards of Young, where the lyrics are just a melodic belting out of a
stretched out version of the word young. The entire crowd joined in creating a
moment that put even the best Guided By Voices drunken sing along concert
moments to shame. The words, sung like a church chorus out of thousands of beer
soaked mouths, loudly hung in the air before rising into the night sky
unabated. If you closed your eyes, it kinda felt like your feet were starting
to leave the ground as well. My inner thoughts at that moment turned to the surrounding
residential Queens neighborhood of Forest Hills. What must they think about a
stadium full of people singing along to a song they probably had never heard
before in their lives? I decided in stereotypical New York fashion, they
probably couldn’t care less. This neighborhood birthed The Ramones years ago,
they’ve heard it all before. To me though, it was inspiring on both an
emotional, gut level and also in terms of history given the depth and the
length of this band’s path to be on that stage at that moment.
With the distinctive blue/green surface and white painted
lines of center court now covered with spilled beer and crushed plastic cups,
the final song of the now darkened night sky ended with Westerberg saying the
hopeful line of “See You Next Time”. I love all that this succinctly optimistic
statement implies…. and it better be true! We can all use more of what this
band is selling in our lives. While this is not always the case, sometimes it’s
great to know that so many people also see the same magic in a band as you do.
While I had expectations going into this show, they were instantly met with
affirmation by the very first chords played on that enormous stage. At least
for one night, the world seemed to correctly understand what should be honored
in this life and to what degree. I look forward to experiencing that feeling
again very soon.
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