Not "When It Began," today's installment. To me this is the Mats firing on all cylinders as a power pop band, a final callback to one of the things they did best over the final 5-6 years of their career when they got a little more serious about making truly great songs. This one falls into a category with "I Will Dare" and "Kiss Me On The Bus" and "Alex Chilton" and "Valentine" and "I'll Be You" and "Achin' To Be" and more. It's not as rough as some of the earlier stuff, nowhere near as loud as classic rockers like "Color Me Impressed" or "Favorite Thing." But it's alive, it's fun, it's edgy, it's perfectly written and, maybe more than any song on the album, it shows maybe where the band could have gone had they kept it together.
With its country jangle that would have made R.E.M. proud and may have even given Wilco some ideas way back when, "When It Began" is fully bathed in this pop glow the band so often could trot out and give the what-for. It sounds light but it's really not; there's a touch of menace underneath the somewhat unorthodox chord progression. It bounces along but it's got enough teeth to leave a mark, and the heightened pace is cheerfully juxtaposed against (where have we heard this before?) lyrics that are anything but. And it paints quite a telling picture of where the Mats were when they pressed "RECORD" on this track.
Stop at a light that shined bright blue
And where you been is still in view
You stopped at nothing at your first chance
Now it's nothing like when it began
Long ago, or yesterday
The queen sits quiet, the jester plays
She plays, "Off with their heads and on with my pants"
Oh it was something when it began
Oh and nothing? That's something I understand
I'll dance to try and make you laugh
I'll play the fool, the king at your command
Oh yeah - HEY!
I never had to bow to you when we began
And I can play you a tune at your command
Oh, and if you say nothing, well that's something I understand
When it began
When we began
When it began
Okay, Paul. I guess goodbye to you, too.
Most bands don't intentionally tell people they're done in song. Sure, some did it with much acclaim and fanfare. The Beatles left fans with the entire second side of Abbey Road, little snippets of this and that which rolled into one huge suite that was irresistible and unforgettable. Cream had an entire album called Goodbye which, well, showed why breaking up was a good idea. Other great bands just walked away (The Police, R.E.M.) or came to a screeching halt (Nirvana, the Sex Pistols) without much adieu. But the Mats did say goodbye to each other, to fans, to the label, to detractors, to rival bands and to anyone else who mattered on All Shook Down. And the true farewell is found in the form of "When It Began," and a chance for Paul to get a bit nostalgic while still unleashing at least a bit of venom one final time. And it works just beautifully.
Paul brings out all his tricks for "When It Began." The absurdities (a traffic light being blue?), the humor ("Long ago...or yesterday"), the word games ("Off with their heads and on with my pants"), and then he wraps it up with a line for the ages, one which may define the Mats in their final incarnation as well as "Swinging Party" did ("If being afraid is a crime we'll hang side by side") in their heyday.
"If you say nothing, well that's something I understand."
Is that or is that not the Replacements in one damn little nutshell? A band so often paralyzed by the idea of success, so terrified that making a career turn that seemed right could lead them to ruin, that they so often just said "Fuck it" and skidded off the highway. Nothing could have changed that about them, it was in their DNA. And as Paul tells us at the end, nothing is probably the one thing they have always understood. Brilliant.
Like "Can't Hardly Wait" with its horns and stops and Chris' delightful fills, or "Talent Show" with its breakdown and shades of "Portland" at the end, there are so many little touches in "When It Began" that make it great. I've always loved when Paul and others yell "Hey!" at the peak of a song (think "I'll Be You" or "Valentine" or, a few tracks earlier on All Shook Down, "Nobody"), and we get that here too. The slide solo is a new touch (it's Slim, right?) that ups the lite-country factor by a bit and creates this breezy feel that crackles with energy. The band (whomever they may be) singing backup on the outro really does sound like everyone saying goodbye. And those little moments of defiance from Paul that tell us yeah, we're having fun here for now, but don't push me ("I never had to bow to you when we began") is a cool reminder of how tension was such a necessary part of the band's formula.
And finally there's this. Paul always seemed to have high expectations of his fans; he wanted them to truly listen, and listen right to the end. It's why a song like "Favorite Thing," while it seems to ultimately careen into a kind of sweet sentiment at the bridge ("You're my favorite thing, bar nothing!"), it emerges after Bob's gonzo solo with a terrific punchline, "My favorite thing...once in a while.") It's why at the end of "Achin' To Be," after three minutes of describing this unreachable mystery girl, he lets us know who he's really talking about ("...just like me.") It's why as Scott pointed out a week or so ago, he saves one hell of a kicker for the end of "Nobody" (You're still in love with nobody, and I used to be nobody. Not anymore.") Paul doesn't mind making us wait to get the full story; it's the mark of a great songwriter to expect as much of the listener as he or she does of him or herself. Joni Mitchell did it. So did Bob Dylan. And so did Paul Westerberg.
So that's why at the very end he makes it clear he's not talking about the band as some third-party vessel that he is all at once nostalgic for and fed up with, but he's really talking about them. The four of them. Or five of them including Bob, who by this point had been gone for five years. He sends a message not just to the band known as the Replacements, but to the specific members, his brothers for the past decade. How does he do this? Like this:
When it began
When we began
When it began
The "we" makes all the difference in the world and personalizes it in such a way that makes "When It Began" fully realize its lofty vision. It says goodbye and good riddance at the same time. It looks back fondly and scoffs at the past at the same time. And it remembers not only what the Replacements were, but who they were. Bravo.
Because after all, Paul was dead on, and never more right in his career, when he sang this line: "Oh it was something when we began."
It sure was, Paul. Thanks for that.
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