In Hear This, A.V. Club writers sing the praises of songs they know well. This week, we’re talking about the songs we hate by bands we love.
The Replacements, “Merry Go Round,” 1990
If we were to graph the level of how much The Replacements rocked per album, we would find a straight line peaking with the 1981 debut Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out The Trash, then heading steadily downward at a 45-degree angle until the band’s egregious final release, 1990’s All Shook Down. While the Minneapolis quartet expertly straddled the pop/punk line, songwriter Paul Westerberg always slipped some extra vulnerability and emotion in somewhere. Most of the time, these odes offered a welcome break from punk tantrums like “Gary’s Got A Boner,” and added a deeper, thoughtful level to Replacements releases. Even a record as bombastic as Hootenanny contained Westerberg’s heartfelt “Within Your Reach” wail; Let It Be ended with a perfect, plaintive plea to an “Answering Machine”; Tim slid down into “Here Comes A Regular” (with one of the saddest descriptions ever sung: “You’re like a picture on a fridge that’s never stocked with food”); and Pleased To Meet Me free-fell into the pretty and wistful “Skyway.” No one can say there weren’t signs.
The energetic Stinson brothers, Tommy (bass) and Bob (guitar), usually helped tamp down Westerberg’s sentimental streak before it got out of hand. But after Bob Stinson’s departure from the band (and subsequent death in 1995), there was only so much that one Stinson left could do. Tommy tried, but the writing was on the wall with 1989’s pop-happy and radio-ready Don’t Tell A Soul. When Soul failed to take off, the discouraged ’Mats were on their last legs after six albums in less than a decade. All Shook Down—never a more appropriate title—started out as a Westerberg solo project, but was retooled into one final chance for the band in 1990. It turned into the first Replacements record I never bought.
All Shook Down’s single, “Merry Go Round,” was a travesty of everything that made the ’Mats so great to begin with. Without the Stinsons to balance out his moody self, Westerberg slid right into sing-songy treacle, with no rocking in sight. In the video, The Replacements look so bored, they’re barely moving. Tommy fiddles with his suspenders at one point, and drummer Chris Mars might be asleep, it’s hard to tell: