Pissing on the guest list
120. Replacements "Color Me Impressed"
At a local newsstand, the 14 year old jonmc bought an issue of Musician magazine to read an interview with Mick Jagger, who was on the cover. One of the smaller pieces featured a picture of four bleary looking young dudes drinking beer accompanied by an article full of goofery, describing them in the most glowing terms.The artcle said they were called The Replacements. The next day I went to the local Sam Goody and bought a cassette of their then current album Let It Be. I was in, hook, line and sinker.
The 'Mats (as they're known to fans) occupied a strange niche in the 1980's. Although their sound showed that they shared some of the same source material, they weren't exactly punk. They weren't above the occasion Kiss or Thin Lizzy cover, but it'd be wrong to call them metal either. What they were was the last great prefix-free rock band. possibly ever.
They were also somewhat ambivalent about even the limited success they had. Their greatest popularity was on college campuses although only singer/guitarist Paul Westerberg had managed to obtain so much as a high school diploma. In a time where sophistication was often the rage, they were wonderfully drunkenly crude much of the time. Ans while 'underground' scenes can be great for opening up avenues of expression to those who would otherwise remain unheard, they can also be rife with pretentious posturing, faux-sophistication and tiresome trendiness. Listening to the one-upmanship of cooler-than-thou poseurs must've rubbed the rock instincts of the 'Mats the wrong way one time too often since they poured it all into this glorious song.
"Color Me Impressed" from their second full length LP Hootenanny was a quantum leap in terms of musical tightness and polish, opening with some snarling guitar that sounds like angry fist from the late Bobby Stinson, and drums that careen along like an out of control car. Over this, Westerberg spews, in his unique hungover voice, some bile soaked lyrics epitomized by the withering sarcasm of the title. If you've ever been disgusted by having eyes rolled at you for not meeting some vague standard of hipness, then this song speaks right to you.
At a local newsstand, the 14 year old jonmc bought an issue of Musician magazine to read an interview with Mick Jagger, who was on the cover. One of the smaller pieces featured a picture of four bleary looking young dudes drinking beer accompanied by an article full of goofery, describing them in the most glowing terms.The artcle said they were called The Replacements. The next day I went to the local Sam Goody and bought a cassette of their then current album Let It Be. I was in, hook, line and sinker.
The 'Mats (as they're known to fans) occupied a strange niche in the 1980's. Although their sound showed that they shared some of the same source material, they weren't exactly punk. They weren't above the occasion Kiss or Thin Lizzy cover, but it'd be wrong to call them metal either. What they were was the last great prefix-free rock band. possibly ever.
They were also somewhat ambivalent about even the limited success they had. Their greatest popularity was on college campuses although only singer/guitarist Paul Westerberg had managed to obtain so much as a high school diploma. In a time where sophistication was often the rage, they were wonderfully drunkenly crude much of the time. Ans while 'underground' scenes can be great for opening up avenues of expression to those who would otherwise remain unheard, they can also be rife with pretentious posturing, faux-sophistication and tiresome trendiness. Listening to the one-upmanship of cooler-than-thou poseurs must've rubbed the rock instincts of the 'Mats the wrong way one time too often since they poured it all into this glorious song.
"Color Me Impressed" from their second full length LP Hootenanny was a quantum leap in terms of musical tightness and polish, opening with some snarling guitar that sounds like angry fist from the late Bobby Stinson, and drums that careen along like an out of control car. Over this, Westerberg spews, in his unique hungover voice, some bile soaked lyrics epitomized by the withering sarcasm of the title. If you've ever been disgusted by having eyes rolled at you for not meeting some vague standard of hipness, then this song speaks right to you.
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