• Voto:
Recensire i Replacements è difficile quanto recensire i Sex Pistols o i Nirvana.
Difficile per il sottoscritto, abituato a dare spazio all’analisi tecnica dei brani a scapito della componente “emotiva”. Non che le canzoni dei Mats (così ci piace chiamarli) siano prive di interesse dal punto di vista formale, ma pare evidente che la loro fantasia compositiva e la loro eleganza esecutiva fossero sempre subordinate alla comunicazione di sentimenti forti, intensi, immediati. Come Sex Pistols e Nirvana, i Replacements privilegiavano la sostanza, il contenuto.
Il loro immaginario non era dissimile da quello di molti altri compagni di avventura, alle prese con la necessità di esprimere le gioie e i dolori della gioventù americana del loro tempo (anche se la grandezza di questi gruppi va ricercata nell’universalità del loro messaggio): Adolescents, Descendents, Husker Du, Soul Asylum, Lemonheads sono solo alcuni dei gruppi che contribuirono a compiere il fatidico passo dall’hardcore all’indie, nel cuore degli anni 80, spostando il fulcro dell’interesse dalla dimensione pubblica a quella privata, dalle problematiche sociali a quelle esistenziali, dal pessimismo storico a quello cosmico, dalla rabbia alla rassegnazione, dall’azione alla contemplazione. La parte più superficiale della critica è solita spacciare i Mats come il gruppo gemello degli Husker Du (venivano entrambi dalla fredda Minneapolis), ponendo le due band a capo di un fantomatico filone “pop-core” . Facciamo un pò di chiarezza: non c’è un solo modo di unire pop (melodia, orecchiabilità) e hardcore (rumore, velocità). C’è la maniera californiana (Bad Religion, Descendents, Adolescents, Pennywise), quella Chicago-ana (Naked Raygun, Pegboy, Screeching Weasel), quella newyorkese (Ramones, Misfits), quella di Minneapolis (Husker Du, Replacements, Soul Asylum) e così via… E pure all’interno delle stesse scene locali, vigevano molte differenze.
Tra tutte queste band, i Replacements si rivelarono i più tradizionalisti: i loro modelli andavano da Chuck Berry ai Rolling Stones, dai Big Star ai Kiss. Il rock della vecchia guardia, rivisitato con malinconia rovente. Ci ho messo un pò ad apprezzare “Tim”. Ai primi ascolti mi lasciò perplesso: lo trovavo troppo scontato in alcuni momenti, troppo sdolcinato in altri. Ancora oggi, se devo cercare un difetto nella band di Westerberg, lo trovo nei brani più passivamente revivalisti, più calligraficamente ripropositori del chiassoso rock’n’roll anni 50, quello dei vari Little Richards e Jerry Lee Lewis: “Dose Of Thunder” e “Lay It Down, Clown” (come “Gary’s Got A Boner” dal precedente disco “Let it be”). Preferisco i Mats quando hanno saputo dare una nuova veste al rock’n’roll, adattandolo all’umore affranto e disperato degli anni 80. Ad ogni modo, dopo l’iniziale indifferenza, mi innamorai di questo disco. E non poteva essere altrimenti: “Tim” colpisce dritto al cuore e ogni suo ascolto scatena una serie di piccoli movimenti dell’ animo, di palpitazioni, di brividi e di ricordi.
Impossibile non visualizzare, dinnanzi ai fremiti di “Kiss Me On The Bus” o alla trance di “Hold My Life”, scene di vita liceale, appartenenti ad un passato più o meno recente (nel mio caso): viene così spontaneo parlare di “college-rock” per definire in qualche modo la musica dei Replacements. Sono brani in cui la band (formata da Westerberg, Mars e i fratelli Stinson) accompagna le confessioni del leader con delicati ricami strumentali, serpentine che si intrecciano convulsamente, tessiture dal sapore onirico, che paiono riprodurre l’andirivieni dei pensieri che affollano la mente di Westerberg; pensieri, dubbi, reminiscenze, entusiasmi, inquietudini che vengono trasmessi all’ascoltatore con un’efficacia unica. Per gran parte del disco, regna questo clima di sospensione, incanto, magia. Per quanto azzardato possa apparire questo accostamento, “Tim” pare talora una rievocazione di “Pet Sounds”, col quale condivide l’umore dolce-amaro.
Ho una mia teoria: Buddy Holly/Brian Wilson/Alex Chilton/Paul Westerberg, uno per decennio, a formare la tetrade dei rocker intimisti-adolescenziali. Come non pensare all’introverso e sensibile Buddy Holly di fronte alla gioviale filastrocca acustica di “Waitress In The Sky” o ai capogiri del rockabilly di “I’ll Buy” ? E come non avvertire il magone del Brian Wilson dell’ età matura, una volta immersi nella nostalgia infinita di “Swingin’ Party” ? “Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there’ s a party/Here it’ s never endin’ , can’ t remember when it starded” , cantata con tono sommesso, e poi, in un repentino ed illusorio sussulto, “If bein’afraid is a crime, we hang side by side/At the swingin’ party down the line” … ecco, l’effetto è quello di una festa di fine estate, vissuta in disparte, con un drink in mano che fà fatica ad andare giù, e la testa da un’altra parte… oppure, è come vedere dall’esterno la scena romantica di una “Don’t Worry Baby”, con Westerberg a dimostrare che, ad un animo tormentato come quello di Brian Wilson, i Beach Boys stavano davvero stretti…
Ma non c’è solo commiserazione, sofferenza, rimpianto in “Tim” : c’è spazio anche per la rivalsa, per lo sfogo, per l’urlo catartico, come quello che apre “Bastards Of Young”, uno dei capolavori misconosciuti del rock anni 80 (al pari di “Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill” degli Huskers). Un inno, di quelli da cantare a squarciagola, col cuore in mano e a testa alta. “God/What a mess/On the ladder of success… We are the sons of no one/Bastards of young” : con queste liriche, Westerberg riprende in mano il suo destino, scioglie le briglie alla sua ugola roca e dà vita ad un inno generazionale, non distruttivo come “Anarchy” ne’ auto-distruttivo come “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, ma vitale, energico, rigenerato, sia pur col consueto velo di disperazione ed amarezza.
L’ultima parte del disco prosegue all’insegna di un vivido power-pop, coi sospiri di “Left Of The Dial” e col tuffo al cuore di “Little Mascara” (“You and I/fall together”), prima della ballata conclusiva, quella “Here Comes A Regular” che molti considerano addirittura il capolavoro di Westerberg, ma che a mio parere non vale quanto una “Swingin’ Party” o quanto le tre grandi ballate di “Let it be” (“Androgynus”, “Unsatisfied”, “Sixteen Blue”): resta comunque, nel suo accorato classicismo springsteen-iano, un degno finale per un disco da annoverare tra le più emozionanti esperienze musicali degli anni 80.
Elenco tracce testi e samples
01 Hold My Life (04:21)
Oooo well, well, well
I bought it
Down on all fours
Let me crawl
If I want I
Could die
Oh by
My hand
Time for decisions to be made
Crack up in the sun
Lose it in the shade
Razzle dazzle razzle droll
Time for this one to come home
Razzle dazzle razzle die
Time for this one to come alive
And hold my life
Until I'm ready to use it
Hold my life
Because I just might lose it
Because I just might lose it
Because I just might lose it
Well, well, well
Anyone could tell
Classic awe
A lucky shot
Ooo-leh-do
Hate 'em
Someday soon
Face 'em
Time for decisions to be made
Crack up in the sun
Lose it in the shade
Razzle dazzle razzle droll
Time for this one to come home
Razzle dazzle razzle die
Time for this one to come alive
And hold my life
Until I'm ready to use it
Hold my life
Because I just might lose it
Because I just might lose it
Because I just might lose it
Just my, just my, just my
We might crack up in the sun
But we'll lose it in the shade
Razzle dazzle razzle droll
Time for this one to come home
Razzle dazze razzle die
Time for this one to come alive
And hold my life
Until I'm ready to use it
Hold my life
Because I just might lose it
Because I just might lose it
Hold my life
Hold my life
Hold my, hold my, hold my, hold my, hold
02 I'll Buy (03:25)
Cruisin' in the sunshine, ain't yet been to bed
I could hear the motor whistlin', something's off the wall again
Give my regards to Broadway, tell 'em I got change to spare
Want big bucks? Gonna have to suck up air.
Anything you want, dear, is fine, fine, fine, fine, fine
Everything you say, dear, I'll buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, goodbye
Talkin' about some pictures, now wouldn't that be a scream
Movies are for retards like me and Maybelline
Give my regards to Boston, ask 'em who'll buy the beer
Don't wanna get pop, find yourself a rockin' chair
Anything you want, dear, is fine, fine, fine, fine, fine
Everything you say, dear, I'll buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy
Never get passed the dice dear, goddammit, I'm gonna roll
People that pick your nose clean, so what we owe, owe, owe
Give my regards to Broadway, tell 'em I don't really care
If you want a good joke, why split? You'll go broke right here
Anything you want, dear, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine
Everything you say, dear, I'll buy, buy, buy, buy, buy
Anything you want, dear, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine
Everything you say, dear, I'll buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, I'll buy
03 Kiss Me on the Bus (02:54)
On the bus, that's where we're riding
On the bus, okay, don't say "hi" then
Your tongue, your transfer
Your hand, your answer
On the bus, everyone's looking for it
On the bus, I am looking for it
And everything ain't okay
I might die for money
They're all watching us
Kiss me on the bus
Kiss me on the bus
Oooo, if you knew how I felt now
You wouldn't act so adult now
Hurry hurry, here comes my stop
On the bus, watch our reflection
On the bus, I can't stand no rejection
Oh and let's make a scene
Oh baby don't be so mean
They're all watching us
Kiss me on the bus
Kiss me on the bus
Oooo, if you knew how I felt now
You wouldn't act so adult now
Hurry hurry, here comes my stop
Oooo, if you knew how I felt now
You wouldn't act so adult now
They're all watching us
Kiss me on the bus
Kiss me on the bus
Kiss me on the bus
Kiss me on the bus
04 Dose of Thunder (02:19)
Goin' down to the pool hall
Lookin' for the eight ball
When it comes, when it comes
Only want a little, you need a ton
Gimme one good dose of thunder
Gimme one good dose of thunder
Gimme gimme in a hurry
Texas added to Missouri
When it comes, when it comes
Only takes a little 'til you want a ton
One good dose of thunder
Gimme one good dose of thunder
I can feel it start to rumble
When it comes, when it comes
It only takes a little 'til you need a ton
Gimme one good dose of thunder
Gimme one good dose of thunder
And I can feel it
Gimme one good dose of thunder
Gimme one good dose of thunder
I can feel it start to rumble
05 Waitress in the Sky (02:02)
1, 2, 3, 4
She don't wear no pants and she don't wear no tie
Always on the ball, she's always on stride
Struttin' up the aisle, big deal you get to fly
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
Paid my fare, don't wanna complain
You get to me, you're always outta champagne
Treat me like a bum, don't wear no tie
Because you ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
And the sign says 'Thank you very much for not smoking'
My own sign says 'I'm sorry I'm smoking'
Don't treat me special, oh don't kiss my ass
Treat me like the way they treat 'em up in first class
Sanitation expert and a maintenance engineer
Garbage man, a janitor and you my dear
A reunion flight attendant my oh my
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
You ain't nothing but a waitress in the sky
Ohhhh
06 Swingin Party (03:51)
Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party
Here it's never endin', can't remember when it started
Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough room in jail
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If bein' strong's your kind, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
At the swingin' party down the line
Pound the prairie pavement, losin' proposition
Quittin' school and goin' to work and never goin' fishin'
Water all around, never learned how to swim now
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If bein' strong's your kind, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
At the swingin' party down the line
Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party
Here it's never endin', can't remember when it started
Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough room in jail
If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If bein' strong is what you want, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
[mumble] at the swingin' party down the line
Catch you down at the swingin' party down the line
07 Bastards of Young (03:38)
God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground, there'll ain't no beer tonight
Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no word to name us
The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Young...take it, it's yours...
09 Left of the Dial (03:44)
Read about your band in some local page
Didn't mention your name, didn't mention your name
Sweet Georgia breezes, safe, cool and warm
I headed up north, you headed north
On and on and on and on
What side are you on?
On and on and on and on
What side are you on?
Weary voice that's laughin', on the radio once
We sounded drunk, never made it on
Passin' through and it's late, the station started to fade
Picked another one up in the very next state
On and on and on and on
What side are you on?
On and on and on and on and...
Pretty girl keep growin' up, playin' make-up, wearin' guitar
Growin' old in a bar, ya grow old in a bar
Headed out to San Francisco, definitely not L.A.
Didn't mention your name, didn't mention your name
And if I don't see ya, in a long, long while
I'll try to find you
Left of the dial
10 Little Mascara (03:36)
You and I fall together
You and I sleep alone
After all, things might be better
After one, and there's one that's long gone
For the moon you keep shootin'
Throw your rope up in the air
For the kids you stay together
You nap 'em and you slap 'em in a highchair
All you ever wanted was someone to take care of ya
All you're ever losin' is a little mascara
Little mascara
Little mascara
Afternoon, things are quiet
Settle back now if you can
Stations clip by like a rocket
Don't you worry if you wonder why he ran
All you ever wanted was someone to take care of ya
All you're ever losin' is a little mascara
Little mascara
Little mascara
That you cry, cry
That you cry
Your eyes out
That you cry
That you cry
That you cry
Your eyes out
All you ever wanted was someone Ma'd be scared of
All you're ever losin' is
A little mascara
Little mascara
Little mascara
That you cry
That you cry
That you cry
Your eyes out
That you cry
That you cry
That you cry
Your eyes out
That you cry
That you cry
That you cry...
11 Here Comes a Regular (04:45)
Well a person can work up a mean mean thirst
after a hard day of nothin' much at all
Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass
There ain't much to rake anyway in the fall
And sometimes I just ain't in the mood
to take my place in back with the loudmouths
You're like a picture on the fridge that's never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house
And everybody wants to be special here
They call your name out loud and clear
Here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one here today?
Well a drinkin' buddy that's bound to another town
Once the police made you go away
And even if you're in the arms of someone's baby now
I'll take a great big whiskey to ya anyway
Everybody wants to be someone's here
Someone's gonna show up, never fear
'cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?
Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts
First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain't much to rake anyway in the fall
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