In their original incarnation The Replacements were always a hair’s breadth from disaster; a runaway train constantly in danger of jumping the tracks and plummeting down a mountainside. What kept them on course for a time was a stunning catalogue of songs, provided by head songwriter Paul Westerberg, and a reckless youthful abandon that made them one of the most exciting live bands around. What constantly derailed their potential was a booze-soaked couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude that saw them banned from Saturday Night Live and, as the opening act for Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, curse out the headliner while dressed in drag.
Live, The Replacements rode a fine line between being both the best and worst band of all time – frequently edging into the former category but almost just as frequently nose-diving headfirst into the latter, a feat captured so beautifully on notorious bootleg The Shit Hits The Fans. What was unique about the Minneapolis band was that their audience was often just as excited about an appearance by either incarnation because, if nothing else, The Replacements were consistently entertaining and endlessly loveable. It was this very duality, this engaging unpredictability that fuelled the myth and legends surrounding the band in the years since they called it a day in 1991.
So, what version of the legend would the sell-out Roundhouse crowd be greeted with tonight? Would the final nights of the most unlikely of reunion tours end in a spectacular flame out (as hinted at by Westerberg’s cryptic collection of t-shirt clues that have so far spelled out “I have always loved you, now I must whore my pas…”), or would we witness one of those storied life-affirmers, where everything comes together and Westerberg, Stinson and Co. live up to their reputation as one of America’s great lost rock 'n' roll bands?
A bit of both, as it turns out – the best of both worlds in every respect.
The reunited Replacements are a thing of ragged glory, a shambolic exercise in punk rock euphoria – everything a good band should be and something that is sadly missing in much of modern rock music. Lyrics are occasionally fluffed, and a cover of ‘Lost Highway’ is begun but almost instantly falls apart with Westerberg admitting “I fucked that one up, that one’s on me!”, but it all gets left by the side of the tracks as the rock 'n' roll train barrels onward. ‘Talent Show’ begins in the wrong key, necessitating a restart, and the audience is treated to unexpected but enthusiastic covers of Elmore James’ ‘Dust My Broom’ and Barbie Gaye’s ‘My Boy Lollipop’. What this all amounts to is an atmosphere of The Replacements at their ramshackle best. Informal and verging on the unprofessional, this is an important part of a legacy that has endeared the band to a loyal audience that grows with every passing year. Tonight we get to feel like we are witnessing the same band that crashed around the world as they, along with their contemporaries in REM and the Pixies, kick-started alternative music in the 80s and early 90s.
When they put the boot in though, as they do pretty much from the get-go with an opening salvo that includes early punk rockers, ‘Takin’ A Ride’ and ‘Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out’, they damn near take the roof off the place. Even the famously staid London audience (there will be very little in the way of dancing tonight) sings along to every word as the band burns fast and loose through a litany of their greatest songs, from ‘Kiss Me On The Bus’, to ‘Achin’ To Be’, from ‘Androgynous’ and ‘I Will Dare’, to the punk rock blitzkrieg of ‘Color Me Impressed’. A thrilling back-to-back run through of ‘Can’t Hardly Wait’ and ‘Bastards Of Young’ is a particular highlight as the band does spectacular justice to two of Westerberg’s finest compositions – outing them finally as the alt-rock anthems that they truly are. Indeed, tonight is proof if proof were ever needed that The Replacements have songs that could stand up to the prime output of any of rock music’s biggest bands.
The band leaves the stage following the knockout one-two punch of ‘Left Of The Dial’ and ‘Alex Chilton’, but soon returns for an encore that includes a beautiful version of what might forever be one of Westerberg’s crowning glories, the heart-breaking ‘Unsatisfied’. Grown men cry – and why not? This means something.
Leaving the ecstatic crowd on a high, fittingly with a cover (this time a rousing version of The Only Ones ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’), The Replacements live up to their reputation as a band that couldn’t care less about their own reputation. There is nothing self-important about The Replacements and maybe that is why they are so relatable, and why they will continue to be so beloved and treasured by generations to come.
For tonight, though, they are simply the greatest rock 'n' roll band on the planet.