A while back, the Replacements reunited to record their first new material since 1990 (or 1989, if, like me, you consider Don't Tell A Soul to be their last album and All Shook Down to be Paul Westerberg's first solo album, simply mislabelled), all for the purpose of supplementing their forthcoming new "greatest hits" release. They debuted one of the songs last week on, of all places, the nationally syndicated sports talk radio show of noted moron Jim Rome. Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson were supposed to be interview guests as well, but Westerberg neglected to call in. Typical Mats.

The song itself is more like typical solo Paul Westerberg. It was probably unrealistic to expect that they'd be able to recapture any of the beautiful clatter of their early records--The Mats go where Westerberg leads, after all, and lately his songwriting map is full of dull, familiar routes--but clinging to the chance that sharing a studio with the reckless souls of his youth might shake Paul down a bit was better than anticipating another neglible contribution to the Westerberg catalog. At least the opening lyrics are nicely self-deprecating (and suitable for a subject heading, apparently) willingly calling attention to the obligatory nature of the whole endeavor.

In case there's anyone in Oshburg, Stevens Point, or other points northish who's interested in hearing the first song in over fifteen years to be attributed to The Replacements, click here.

On the other hand, anyone who's interested in a sure-fire way to attract some top-notch ladies whilst enjoying a night on the town, look no further than the product featured directly below.

We needed some envelopes for mailing stuff at the radio station today, so I opened some of the accumulated mail (sorry silent_spring) and discovered, among other things, the new Paul Westerberg "greatest hits" comp. It's called "Besterberg," a title which only confirms David St. Hubbins' assertion about the fine line between stupid and clever.

In the liner notes, Westerberg includes a comment or two about each song selected, a collection of half-thoughts that will prove exceedingly useful for whoever out there writes their college thesis on The Painful Descent of a Great, Revolutionary Songwriter into a Woeful, Workmanlike Waste. Basically, he's most proud of the songs that he recorded practically on a whim. He'd literally be walking out for the night, get a little tune in his head and march back to the studio and record it, releasing the noodle of a song on his next album. No wonder all of his solo albums are crammed with half-assed filler. And he makes a point of noting that he dislikes "Dyslexic Heart," the first single of his (official) solo career and probably the best, most fully-realized song he's released without sharing credit with his fellow Replacements. It was basically the intellectual rambunctiousness of The Mats all growsd up. The fact that he dismisses that and touts the spontaneous first drafts posing as finished works that populate his later records tells you everything you need to know about the quality of that later work.

Sorry for the whiny music rant. If there's one thing we old Replacements fans seem to have in common it's the tendency to take the diminishing returns of Mr. Westerberg's career personally.