Originally published in Q, August 1987

Minneapolis: It must be something they put in the water.

As well as dominating the post-Thriller black pop market—via Prince and his acolytes (Sheila E, Appollonia Six, the Time, Jill Jones, Madhouse) and the Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis production stable (the SOS Band, Janet Jackson, Lisa Lisa and Full Force)—Minneapolis has also, over the past few years, been largely responsible for some of the very best contemporary white rock music. And nowhere is this more graphically illustrated than in Hüsker Dü’s Warehouse (Songs & Stories) and the Replacements’ Pleased to Meet Me.

The two bands’ approaches are quite different: The Hüsker Dü double album (their second) refines their former hardcore power-trio approach to a slick, powerful drive, a streamlined vehicle for some of the most euphoric melodies and urgent lyrical speculations of our time. The underlying theme is endurance, clearly the result of three solid years’ touring which left them emotionally and physically drained.

“It’s finding new ways to talk about the same old things about life and what it’s like to live,” says Bob Mould, earnest singer and guitarist. “I’m assuming there’s more clarity between people’s perception of negativity and emotion in our stuff. A love song doesn’t have to be about the best things in a relationship, it can be about the more painful aspects.”

Every one of the 20 tracks is a delight, and the cumulative effect is of one of those definitive statements of dissatisfaction that every now and then evocatively pinpoints the problems while suggesting some sort of resolution—the kind of thing the Clash tried desperately hard to do all through their existence, but never managed, and which Springsteen did so well with Born in the USA. Serious stuff.

The Replacements, on the other hand, wouldn’t know serious if it crept into bed with them. Their image is of rowdy rock ‘n’ roll bad boys going for broke, but with the distinct possibility of making a few million on the side: The crucial lines from their new record are on the desultory ode to dumbness, “I Don’t Know”: “One foot in the door / The other one in the gutter,” an echo of the sentiment expressed on their previous LP, Tim: “Oh, what a mess / On the ladder of success / Where you take one step / And miss the whole first rung.”

Actually, they haven’t so much missed the first rung as stumbled several steps further up on the back of a live show honed through seven years’ roadwork (bassist Tommy Stinson was a mere 13 when they first set off ’round America) and the powerful talents of singer-songwriter Paul Westerberg. He could be described as a cartographer of adolescent alienation, probably the best since Springsteen, able to put a new spin on familiar lyrical themes, as when he ponders the difficulties of modern love on “Answering Machine”: “How do you say goodnight / To an answering machine / How can you say I love you / To an answering machine?” It’s his influence that’s taken the Replacements from a hand-to-mouth existence on the local independent Twin Tone label, cranking out aptly-titled albums like Stink! and Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash (their debut), to a major label deal with Sire/WEA. His obvious debt to the former Box Tops and Big Star leader Alex Chilton has finally found expression in a song on the new album actually called “Alex Chilton”, after the man himself attempted to produce a track on their previous album. “Produced is a loose word. He was there in the room.”

The stage act pushed forward the frontiers of raucous chaos with drunken cover versions of everything from Sham 69’s “Borstal Breakout”, Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man”, “Dedicated to the One I Love”, the Jackson 5’s “ABC” to “Hello Dolly.” Indeed, the Replacements have a reputation as industrious boozers, frequently fall-down drunk onstage and off. It’s the staple subject of nearly every interview they’ve done. No regrets from Westerberg: “I like to drink, and I make no excuses for it. My father drinks, my grandfather drank—you look like you like to tip a few yourself!”

From his point of view, living in Minneapolis has several benefits for the aspirant musician, not least its liberal arts policy; more important, though, is its geographical situation, stranded midway between the American coasts. “If you grew up in LA,” he explains, “in two months you can have a showcase where every major label’s gonna see you. If you grew up in Minneapolis, it’ll take you three years to be able to get out to LA, and by then you’re good enough or you’ll never make it.”

For Hüsker Dü , there has only ever been one reservation about life in Minneapolis—the remarkable similarity between the sleeve of their Warehouse album and that of Prince’s Sign o’ the Times. Both are double albums in single covers, neither has the title or artist’s name anywhere on the cover, and both feature sculptural assemblages with lots of dead flowers.

“And you notice which one came out first, too,” says drummer/singer Grant Hart. (Theirs.) “I think the thing that got me was the lettering,” adds Mould, “and the word ‘Arcade’ on the cover.” (Their previous double album was called Zen Arcade.) “I met Prince once,” reflects Hart. “Wouldn’t talk to me. We were the only two people in the room.”

Watch: Hüsker Dü, “Don’t Want to Know if You are Lonely” [at youtube.com]

Watch: The Replacements, (random video for) “If Only You Were Lonely” [at youtube.com]

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Author Jim Walsh on His Friends: The Replacements

Shaggy Dogs: Paul Westerberg vs. Ryan Adams

The Replacements Stink Some More