Back in 2021 we solicited stories from Cheap Trick fans about their first time seeing the band. The response was amazing, and we promised to make it a regular feature on Pencil Storm, so here we are - in typical Pencil Storm fashion - three years later, this time, talking about The Replacements! Enjoy these stories and start getting your stories together for Episode III: KISS, sometime around 2027!

WHEN WAS YOUR FIRST TIME SEEING THE REPLACEMENTS?

Ricki C. - Columbus. OH, Pencil storm Copy-Editor

The first time I saw The Replacements was September 10th, 1984 at Stache and Little Brothers – an 85-capacity hole-in-the-wall club in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio – that everybody here called Stache’s. (I also saw Richard Thompson, Joe Ely, Lucinda Williams, Soul Asylum, Dave Alvin and a fuckload of other acts there, but today we’re talkin’ Replacements.)

I know Hootenanny was already out, but Let It Be was still a couple weeks from being released. Westerberg and company were being touted as The Next Big Thing in “alternative rock” after REM, so I wanted to check ‘em out. The Replacements staggered up onto Stache’s “stage” – literally one step up from the floor – and lurched into some kinda unholy din that I think was supposed to resemble a song. Bob and Tommy Stinson were cutting huge ragged swaths of guitar and bass noise through the paltry Stache’s PA, but nobody was anywhere close to being in tune, nobody was changing chords at the same time (if indeed those WERE chords being played) and Westerberg was so drunk you couldn’t understand a single word he was singing; it was a MAJOR fucking train-wreck of a set. The only person even close to being on the ball was drummer Chris Mars, who was striving manfully - single-handedly, really - to hold the songs together, and he was failing, badly.

I was standing at the back of Stache’s by the soundboard with local scenester Ron House (Great Plains, Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments) that night, surveying the carnage that was The Replacements, and I shouted over the din, “These guys are supposed to be The Next Big Thing? This is HORRIBLE.” Ron, yelling back in my ear, concurred and Ron and I have seldom agreed on ANYTHING having to do with rock and roll. Just at that moment - fully a half-hour into the set - the band launched into “Take Me Down To The Hospital” from Hootenanny and it was fucking FANTASTIC! They were AMAZING. It was really a quite unbelievable turnaround. From “Hospital” they went into the yet-to-be-released “Unsatisfied” and it was even better than “Hospital.” They went from total indeterminate, out-of-time, out-of-tune noise to one of the greatest rock and roll bands I’d ever seen, all in the course of three songs. “Can you believe this? They must just have been getting warmed up before.” I yelled sideways to Ron, unable to take my eyes off of them.

And then, after “Unsatisfied” they went right directly back to sucking. Right. Directly. Back. To sucking. Ron and I just stared at the stage and then at each other as the band veered off-course back into The Rock and Roll Wasteland. They did that at least two more times in the course of 70-minute set. They would be world-beaters for a song or two, and then go completely off-the-rails for four or five more. (Including their textbook move of veering off course into “covers” they were barely familiar with and stopping halfway through, because they realized they didn’t know the music OR the lyrics.) It was the weirdest, most off-kilter set of rock and roll I have ever witnessed in my 71 years on the planet. – updated 11/21/2023 Ricki C. 

(editor’s note; This is the main part of a longer blog by Ricki, first published on Pencil Storm in 2015. To read the longer version check out The First Time I Saw The Replacements. Also you might wanna take a look at his follow-up, Ricki C. Turns Down a Roadie Job With The Replacements.)

Jeff Evans, Atlanta, GA - Musician - Chickens and Pigs, Jeff Evans Porkestra

My first time seeing The Replacements, I didn't actually see them... Orlando National Guard Armory, late 83/early 84, maybe still touring Hootenanny, maybe Let it Be. I arrived just as a local punk band was finishing their opening set, seemed like a good time to retreat to my car and swing a 32 oz Busch jug that had been expressly purchased for such purpose... Slugged it, tossed it into the back seat (as was the custom in those days) and headed across parking lot headlong into a stream of leaving, disappointed audience, as the cops had stopped in at halftime and shut the show down due to unknown circumstances prob involving alcohol and destruction.

Finally saw them open for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in 1989, they seemed to be a thoroughly disillusioned band, I believe they played Musical Instrument Chairs at least twice (Paul proving a not very proficient drummer along the way) That's it, except for seeing a glorious solo Westerberg show in a 1000-seat theatre in `92 or `93 that made up for all those disappointments, and then some

Jim O’Kane, Chicago, IL

I didn't discover "alternative" music until sometime in my Sophomore year in HS, on WNUR out of Northwestern, in Evanston IL, but I never heard the Mats on there. As soon as I got my driver's license, I was finally able to get out of Arlington Heights and into Chicago. I drove down to Wax Trax, the infamous record store on Lincoln and came across this cover of 4 guys in the midst of an action shot of them rocking their asses off. The immediacy of the pictures on the front of Sorry Ma affected me enough to think, these fuckers are letting it all out. I knew nothing of the band, period. But that cover made me think I should, so I bought it.

Shortly after, I saw the Mats were playing. A place called Club Exit in Chicago (the original location) so I made plans to go see them. I called the place before I went, and got the discouraging news the show was 21 only (I was 16), so, I concocted a plan. I got out of school, created an excuse to take the car all night, and roped one of my few friends into going. We were sitting at the bar of Club Exit probably right around 5 or 6pm. Too early in retrospect, now that I type this. The plan was to eat, take our time, and blend in with the crowd, when it starts to fill up, and we wouldn't get carded to come in.

It was around 8 or 9 when they switched over to show mode from dive bar. I got antsy before that and asked the bartender if the show was "all ages." She said yes, and I shut my mouth. I shouldn't have asked that. Around then, this guy comes and sits a seat away from us at the front of the bar near the door. There's maybe 6 people at the bar, including my friend and me, so there were plenty of other seats at the bar, it probably held about 20-30 stools. He orders a beer, maybe a shot, gets it and has a drink...looks around the bar, looks out the window, looks at us, has another gulp...and I wait a few seconds and then ask, "are you Bob?"

He turns toward us both with a big smile, holding his beer and says "yeah". I said, "cool...we love your band, you're awesome." The usual conversation took place about telling someone you love their music and them being uncomfortably grateful and appreciative -- especially if the person tells you that too much, like I'm sure I probably did. I started to ask him about Minneapolis. Told him my brother lived at 26th and Lyndale and I had been up there a bunch to visit. We briefly spoke about the 7th St. Entry, the Cabooze, and the CC Club before he lit up when I mentioned, Lake Harriet, Lake Calhoun, and Lake of the Isles, where he proudly took a swig and said he fishes at Lake of the Isles all the time -- the lake where his memorial bench is located. At that point, Bob leaned over to me and quietly asked me if I had any coke. I said, "What, you want a Coke?" He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. I said, "Oh, do I have any...no man. I'm only 16."

"So?" he quipped.

 "Well...yeah...no man. Don't have any drugs."

Then, the beautiful dude that Bob was came out. "That's cool kid. I get it. You're staying for the show right?" ...and that was the help we needed. I explained how I came to the show, and my plan to sneak in because I it was all ages. He said it was a good plan and should work..."who cares?!" he said.

And right as I thought he'd finish the last sip or two of his beer and leave, the bartender came over, asked us to settle up, and if we wanted to stay during shift change, the show is 21+ and she’d need to see our IDs. Fuck. We're gonna get kicked out.

As we struggle for our wallets entering panic/plan-B mode... Bob, pipes in and says “These guys are relatives, family I got down here, cousin Jim, and...well he's not a cousin but Jim's friend. They were gonna help us load and stay for the show.” The bartender says “Yeah, well, you really can't do that, it's 21+ only.” Bob insists “Look man, haven't seen this guy growing up in 4 years, we're on the road, he's coming to see what I'm doing, it's family man. They'll sit near the back door to the alley (he points) and they won't move. They'll be with us.”

“Fine,” she says reluctantly. We couldn't believe it.

We helped them move their gear in, met the other members briefly, who were psyched they had two kids to move their shit ("Nice goin' Bob" - from Paul) and then we had to wait in the alley after their sound check and during the opening band.

They come out to the alley before they play to smoke and drink and goof around while the opener is finishing up. We're just watching them, not even really aware of us -- they have their own language between the 4 of them. When it's time to go, Bob says “C'mon” and we sit on two little milk crates near the door that once had their cables.

What I saw next, is another story in itself, and quite frankly, I can't remember any songs, etc., all I can remember is how ferocious, loud, funny, and good it was. They played fantastic, and were having a good time, like we were all there in their rehearsal room...and these guys were brothers and tight. Lots of seemingly inside jokes and laughing hysterically and then playing like their lives depended on it. It was infectious to be around and see.

Apologies to those who wanted more details of the actual show. I think that's all that's really relevant. But, there's one more thought to this memory.

A year later or so, I was back in Minneapolis visiting my brother. I pulled out the Yellow Pages and looked for a record store nearby, but before I left, I had a thought: All those clubs and bars are around here...the Replacements must live nearby. I looked up Mars, Stinson, and Westerberg in the phone book. There were a lot of Stinson's and a few Mars' -- but there was a "Westerberg, Paul" over on Garfield; a few blocks away from my brother's house. I thought, “Could he have a house? They're all young!”

I headed out to the record store, via Garfield Avenue. Minneapolis has alleys between streets where there's a detached garage at the end of a backyard, just like Chicago. I didn't want to ride by the front of the house and stop like some kind of creep, so I turned into the one alley just before Garfield and began looking at address numbers on the garages to find the house. As I rode down the alley, I heard some laughing up ahead. When I got near the laughing, there were bushes blocking my view to the backyard where it was coming from. I stopped. I peered through the bushes to look. I saw Tommy, Chris and Paul playing croquet and drinking beers. There was an older gentleman, manning a grill. Must've been Paul, Sr. Westerberg. I thought I said "Holy Shit!" quietly to myself, as I instinctively reacted to what I was seeing. Then I saw them all stop and look toward the bushes. I hammered the pedals and got out of there hoping I wasn't seen. 

Later I thought, if Bob was there, would I have poked my skull through the bushes and said "Hey Bob, remember me?" I would have thanked him for the Club Exit help. But, I probably would not have done that...I was too chicken.

So, thanks Bob. I never went to the record store. I just went home to my brother's.

Bill Heaphy - Aspiring Leader of the Great Northern Tribe, in the fullness of time

I saw the Replacements for the first time in October of ’84 at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor. They were opening for the band X. I was looking forward to the Mats; I didn’t yet own any of their music, but I’d heard good things about them. I think I’d also heard their live shows could be a little chaotic, and that’s the kind of show this was. I think they all walked on stage wearing stupid-looking, over-sized overalls with no shirts underneath. They started a bunch of tunes, but only finished a few of them. In the middle of the set, they played one tight, loud rock song (Goddamn Job?) which made me think, “well they can bring it when they feel like it.” I also recall a “lounge act” version of Light My Fire that amused me greatly.

This probably qualifies as one of their “disaster” appearances. Every other time I caught them (two more times with Bob, maybe four times with Slim), there would be wacky moments, but they’d make it through a full set of mostly great music. I wasn’t put off by this first viewing, either. They didn’t seem drunk (at least not fall-down drunk) or mean-spirited. They simply didn’t take the idea of opening for X that seriously and decided to have a little fun goofing off.

Don Gerard - Bowery Boys, Steve Pride and His Blood Kin, former mayor, Champaign, IL

It was 1986 and we all got to Mabel's (Champaign, Illinois) early to see our pals, Reaction Formation, open. The Bowery Boys were jealous because Jim McGuinn (nee Sluzarek) was a DJ at WPGU and had some in with the promoter to snare the support spot. After RF wrapped Lars Gustafsson (Bowery Boy and later Titanic Love Affair, Mother May I) and I were out on the back porch of the second story club. Some drunk was vomiting over the railing into the dumpster. We bust out laughing when someone stuck their head out (probably the legendary Bill Sullivan) and said, "Bob! Time to play!" and, sure enough, it was the elder Stinson who bounded back into the club. 

Lars had brought a copy of "Let It Be" to my college apartment a couple of years earlier when we were in the Farm Boys (with Adam Schmitt & Charlie Dold) and we cranked it up. "Listen to that bass," Lars laughed. "It's AWESOME!". I liked them a lot and delved into their back catalog, however, nothing would prepare me for seeing them live. 

It was one of those "awesome" sets. They walked up on stage, looking much like the photo on the back of their latest record, "Tim", and Bob let fly the "Bastards of Young" opening guitar riff. When Paul Westerberg let out "the scream" it was as if I was being baptized into the Church of Rock. I felt goosebumps and life was never the same again. It was glorious.

They ripped through their set with not a lot of nonsense save a few quips ("We'd like to thank the opening band, but we're afraid that would only encourage them"). I've heard since they were so drunk and sloppy they made the opener look like slick professionals, but I just remember it being glorious. I could be wrong.

After the show I was drinking beer at a crowded afterparty and a guy crouching near me tugged on the threads around the holes in my jeans. "Got any coke," the fella we saw puking into the dumpster whispered, pointing to his nose.

Alas, I did not, and I don't remember much of anything else, but to this day whenever I hear "Bastards of Young" I float back for the just a bit for the length of the opening salvo of steel strings and raw vocal chords to the night I finally "got it".

John Burke (Los Angeles Musician)

As I did every summer break since I was a kid, in 1985 I headed south from my home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to stay with my mom and other family who lived downstate in Ann Arbor.

Throughout my childhood and then even more so as a teenager, I was obsessed with rock and roll. My days in Ann Arbor were filled with combing all the cool record stores to feed my ever-expanding record collection with stuff I could never find in my small hometown of Marquette.

Going to live concerts of bands that would never make it up north was also part of my summer agenda. Initially the plan that summer was to stay for about four weeks before heading back up to the U.P. to start my Junior year of high school, but while I was in Ann Arbor it was announced that my favorite band at that time, The Replacements from Minneapolis, would be playing a show August 21st at the local nightclub Nectarine Ballroom ten days after I was set to leave.

In its previous incarnation, the Nectarine Ballroom was known as the Second Chance, a legendary venue during the ‘70s and early ‘80s that hosted a bunch of great up-and-coming rock, punk and new wave bands, including the Ramones, Cheap Trick and so many others. There was absolutely no way I was going to miss the chance to see The Replacements — and school didn’t start until after Labor Day — so I extended my stay so that I could go to their show.

I had a ticket to see R.E.M.—another favorite of mine, but not like The Mats— at the Fox Theater in Detroit on August 10th. I had already seen punk legends Black Flag earlier in July at the Nectarine Ballroom. The summer was shaping up to be one of the best for concerts, for sure! Two days before the R.E.M. show, there was a surprise announcement that The Replacements were added the bill. Now I would be seeing The Mats sooner than expected and twice within a couple of weeks! I was so psyched!

Slotted between the Three O’Clock—an L.A.-based band who were touring as the opening act for R.E.M.—and the headliner, The Replacements came stumbling out on stage before the house lights went down and proceeded to play a fiery set that began with a couple songs I didn’t recognize from their upcoming major label debut album Tim. The new ones sounded amazing as did the familiar songs like “I Will Dare” and “Gary’s Got a Boner,” and their unlikely cover of the Ohio Express ‘60s bubblegum hit “Yummy Yummy Yummy” was the cherry on top of the sundae for me.

That surprise appearance by The Mats opening for R.E.M. has since become the stuff of legend around the Detroit area in the decades since. I still hold out hope that a live bootleg recording of The Replacements’ set will emerge one day.

After their memorable appearance at the Fox Theater, I could not wait to see The Replacements headlining their own show in the much more intimate Nectarine Ballroom. There was one problem, though: I had bought a ticket not realizing until after that it was not an all-ages show and no one under eighteen would be admitted. I was sixteen. Luckily my mom’s best friend knew the manager at Prism Productions who was promoting the show. She called him up and he assured her that, as long as my mom was with me and I didn’t drink, he would make sure there wasn’t a problem getting into the show. He ended up putting her and my mom on the guest list as well. Yes!!!

The show at the Nectarine was packed. Another Minneapolis band I had never heard of at the time called Soul Asylum were the opening act and started their set with a fine version of the Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale.” I was up close to the front of the stage when The Replacements came on. Moshing ensued from the moment the opening chords to “Bastards of Young” rang out followed by singer Paul Westerberg’s introductory scream, which now sounded familiar to me after hearing it at the R.E.M. show, though I had no idea what it was called at the time. And there they were—The Replacements, as significant to me as the Beatles were to my mom and her generation—up close and literally a few feet away. It seemed almost surreal.

They proceeded to play more new songs — and “Yummy, Yummy, Yummy” again! — with plenty of the familiar ones from their catalog. The night ended with guitarist Bob Stinson taking over lead vocals on a hilariously bad version of Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown.” I had read about how unpredictable a Replacements show could be, that it could be the most amazing show you had ever seen or an absolute train wreck, usually depending on how drunk the band was that night. Luckily, both times I saw The Replacements that summer they were in great form, but that show at the Nectarine Ballroom—amazing with just the right amount of train wreck sprinkled in— was legendary and ranks up there as one of my all-time favorites.

Jeremy Porter - Musician, Jeremy Porter and The Tucos, Co-Editor in Chief at Pencil storm

My first Replacements show was at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor, Michigan in April of 1986. It was the only time I’d see them with Bob Stinson, and the first of another dozen or so times altogether. My pal Jim had a blue 1970 Camaro and we piled in at 4am, breath visible in the cold, Upper Peninsula air. There was a crack in the frame just in front of the driver’s side rear wheel well, so that’s where they put me, since I was the smallest and would offer the lightest load above it. I felt every bump, pothole, and roadkill skeleton in my ribs and spine for the next eight hours as we approached Ann Arbor, and the eight hours back north the next day. Sometimes I think I can still feel that drive in my rib cage, 37 years later. 

After a long day of wandering the streets of Ann Arbor, we closed in on the Michigan Theater. Someone knew somebody who worked at the Nectarine Ballroom, formerly known as the Second Chance, a legendary rock club, across the street, and we enjoyed shots of Chambord in the basement before the show. My friend John and I weren’t 21, not even close, so when our friends went to the bar to pre-game, we went to Schoolkids Records, where a pink-eyed Bob Stinson was standing alone by the front door reading the Metro Times. We got autographs, but he was a bit cantankerous so we didn’t bother him much. Not that he didn’t deserve his privacy, but I was a bit perplexed that someone seeking privacy would be hanging out at the record store next to the theater they were playing in a couple hours. 

I remember they had random kegs of beer in corners of the lobby of the Michigan Theater where you could get a plastic cup full for $3, like some beach party back home. It’s not like that at the Michigan anymore, now catering to the whims of a much more civilized and uptight Ann Arbor than it was in the 80s. My heart sank when The Replacements came out on stage as a three-piece, with Bob Stinson nowhere in sight. Folklore since has him partying at a halfway house in Kerrytown, shooting up in the alley next to the theater, and a few other seedy places, but my blurry recollection has him seated with friends a few rows back, stage right. Guitarists from the opening bands rotated in and out through covers of “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Sweet Home Chicago” until Bob meandered on stage about 10 minutes in. “Don’t clap for him - he’s late!” Tommy said, but I was so happy my first Replacements show wasn’t going to be one of “those” shows. They ripped into “Color Me Impressed” and I was in awe. 

Once Bob was plugged in, they were the best band on the planet, and it was the best show I’ve ever seen (though most days I’ll put it tied with The Ramones, Detroit `88). I remember a few songs; “Unsatisfied,” “Kiss Me on the Bus,” “September Gurls,” (not yet familiar with Big Star, I couldn’t believe they were covering The Bangles!) but it’s mostly a blur. A recording has never surfaced, though a girl two seats over from me had a small tape recorder in her waistband. The show was documented in Creem magazine a couple months later, and lives on in Ann Arbor rock and roll lore as a legendary night. For me, as with others’ First Times above, it was life changing. 

Brian Phillips - Host of CD92.9 Morning Show -Columbus,OH

My first Mats show is burned into my brain. I missed them sadly when Bob was still in the band. I was tucked away in Pullman, Washington at Wazzu back then. They weren't coming there. The band that did stop at our remote outpost on more than one occasion were The Young Fresh Fellows. They are one of the truly great, unsung bands of my life. My God I saw them all the time. In college, after college in Seattle. They were my house band! If they were playing, and I was anywhere near I would not miss it. 

My first Mats show was July 5, 1987 at the Moore Theater in Seattle. The Moore is more or less the size of Newport Music Hall, but there are seats throughout. The Fellows had become more than friendly with the Mats by then. In fact they played the reception at Paul Westerberg's first wedding. It would be during a late 1987 run that the bands would famously get drunk and shave their eyebrows. Anyway I digress.... The Fellows opened for the Mats, and I remember drummer Tad Hutchinson performing as I had seen him do at other shows: With a tiny plastic Mr. T head taped to a turtleneck sweater. The hilarious result was a man who played the drums like a monster,  and happened to have a very long, thin neck and a voodoo shrunken Mr. T head attached. 

The Fellows of course killed it. (I've never seen them do anything but an amazing show). Toward the end of their set I saw Tommy Stinson sneak behind them and switch out their drinks. God knows what was in em. With all the sweat Tad's head eventually appeared through the neck of his powder blue thrift store turtleneck. For a few minutes the hilarious result was his head and a tiny head. 

When the Mats came out they crawled down into the Moore's opera pit. With only Chris Mars visible, they played "Hold My Life." You have to understand. This was my first moment at long last with my favorite band. When you're 21 this shit sticks with you ya know. It still gives me chills. 

After the first song Paul, Tommy and Slim crawled back on stage. Tommy threw both thumbs in the air. A sign to the sound guy to, I imagine, shove all the faders north and then perhaps duck next door to that dive bar that I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called, but it was an all time Seattle haunt. After that it was so fucking loud. I swear I lost hearing on my right side that night. To be honest the Young Fresh Fellows were the better band on July 5, 1987,, but I'll never forget that first song from the Mats. Still haunts me as to how fucking great it was. That's a metaphor for their career really. Showing you their cards, and then pushing the poker table over and walking away. 

Lenny Grassa - Detroit Musician - Popular Creeps, The Leonards

My introduction to The Replacements music on record and my first live Mats experience was only separated by a few days. My best buddy (RIP Mike) was a few years older than me and was going to U of M in Ann Arbor at the time. And he always had a stack of new records from Schoolkids Records at his place when I would visit on the weekends. I think I must have listened to “I Will Dare” 20 times in a row on that visit. Let It Be was a life changing record. How could a band that doesn’t give a shit about anything one moment be pulling at your heartstrings on the next song? That’s a question that could be asked about every record that followed.

A few days later they were playing The Michigan Theater, opening for X. Unfortunately, I don’t remember a lot of the details from that show. Being young and drunk will do that to you. But I do remember that they swapped instruments while playing “Wipeout” and played a little bit of “Light My Fire”. This would be the first of many shows. A few months later I saw them play to a packed house at Joe’s Star Lounge, one of the greatest clubs ever.

The following year I moved to Los Angeles and they released Tim. I would see them anytime they got close. One week I remember seeing them in Long Beach and then twice at The Roxy. They were not always on top of their game but always entertaining!

When I saw them on the All Shook Down tour, I didn’t know for sure, but it certainly felt like a farewell show… I remember thinking… if they played this well all the time, they would have been huge. But it was not in their DNA, they didn’t have it in them. And that was part of their charm-they were our loveable losers. Or were we the loveable losers? Twenty two years later I drove up to Toronto to see Paul and Tommy reunite. It was awesome! You couldn’t have asked for a better setlist! The only thing that could have made it better was if Bob, Chris, and Slim had been there. You’ve never seen so many old men getting misty eyed and a rock show.

Long live The Replacements!

Colin Gawel - Musician Solo and with Watershed - Pencilstorm Founder

The Replacements were a regular act in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio for many years but well before I was old enough to attend club shows. See Ricki C. blog…

But honestly, they weren’t seriously on my radar until I was old enough to legally buy a beer. Coincidence? Maybe not. The only music I got exposed growing up in my midwestern suburb was classic rock radio and whatever MTV was playing. And even when I moved 10 miles down High Street for college, despite being a gigantic university, Ohio State did not, and still doesn’t, have any student-run college radio format. That whole “Left of the Dial” thing did not exist in Columbus, Ohio. 

But once I was living on campus and started traveling with Watershed, I got a better idea about shit v shinola. Don’t Tell a Soul was the first record I paid attention to, but it left me with a hollow feeling. All the hype for this? Personally,  I preferred Sidewinders Auntie Ramos Pool Hall. But shortly after, I picked up a cassette copy of Pleased To Meet Me and from the first blast of “I.O.U.” it was all I listened to as I bar-crawled up and down High Street seven nights a week. Once I got it, I got it hard, and I have listened to every Mats’ record and solo effort incessantly ever since. But, the band had broken up by the time I got on the bandwagon. 

In the ensuing years, I saw Paul Westerberg a bunch of times, shared a bill and got kissed on the lips by Tommy Stinson, and most importantly, Watershed backed up Slim Dunlap at a festival and he became a lifelong friend and mentor to our band. His ongoing advice about life, rock n roll and what it all means still serve me to this day. I’ve got no Chris Mars stories but I’ve enjoyed his records and admired his artwork from afar. 

So, when my good friend Nadia Pressure reached out to Biggie & myself, inviting us to join her at Riot Fest Denver in 2013  we didn’t hesitate. The three of us grew up together and bonded over our love of the Mats. She had never seen the band either and wanted a couple other Mats diehards in tow so we could be drooling fanatics together. 

The actual festival was nowhere near Denver, it was 30 miles East in the dusty plains straight out of Dances With Wolves. To find the venue, there were literally hand-written signs with arrows taped to stop signs on two lane county roads. 

No matter, we weren’t going to be denied. And the day we attended was perhaps the greatest rock n roll lineup ever assembled in a dusty windswept field. I saw - in order - Superchunk, Rocket From the Crypt, Guided By Voices, The Stooges, and..…The Replacements. 

I was shocked by the size and enthusiasm of the crowd. Who were all these people? There must have been 15,000 people.  Where had they been hiding when the band was in its “Heyday”? Check a box for the positive side of streaming. The Mats tunes are now just a click away. That is a very good thing. 

The band came on wearing cowboys hats and skirts and blasted through a set that could do no wrong. Not to the assembled faithful anyway. Sure, it was just Paul and Tommy from the Mats but I’m not prissy about those things anymore. It’s all about hearing the songs before we die. And I did. And then again at the homecoming show in St. Paul. 

Good thing, too. That special relationship between the Mats and my hometown of Columbus, Ohio? The sold-out show here got canceled on short notice, and never rescheduled. If I had planned on catching the show a mile from my house, I would have no story to tell. But as a true Mats’ fan, I knew better than to play it safe and expect it to all work out. That’s not how Pauly Westerberg dooz it.