A lot of my picks for my favourite lyricists of all-time are pretty basic go-to’s. Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Paul Simon, Nick Cave, Elliott Smith, Joni Mitchell etc etc. The one name that usually brings a raised eyebrow is Paul Westerberg, but I’m not entirely sure why.

The Replacements have very quickly cemented themselves as one of my very favourite bands of all-time and Westerberg’s dense lyricism is the primary reason. The barraging rocker ‘Hold My Life’ opens their 1985 album ‘Tim’ with all the energy you’d want from these fresh-faced alternative rockers, but it was always the multiple meanings taken from the chorus that grabbed me.

“Hold my life

Until I’m ready to use it,

Hold my life

Because I just might lose it.”

The raggedness of the instrumentation and Weseterberg’s vocals suggests that “lose it” hints towards an allusion to insanity and being on the brink. You could also take it as meaning the protagonist is literally about to lose his life and that this song is more of a portrait of a man on the brink of suicide, begging for someone to “hold his life” as he tries to cling on. This is a deceptively dark start to the album and it sets the tone for the kind of character Westerberg’s lyrics portray regularly. Snarky and sarcastic but ultimately sensitive and almost defeated at times. Just a heads up, I am going to be taking this album as a loose concept album, since I think a lot of these songs seem to express similar thought patterns and philosophical ideas.

Looking at the album through this lens gives the seemingly perky and upbeat ‘I’ll Buy’ a different feeling. What seems to be a song about a boasting gambler flaunting his winnings has several references throughout that this isn’t a man who has as much money as he thinks. The “down and out drunkard” theme that runs throughout the album arguably starts here. There is a sense that the protagonist feels genuine love for his “dear” and wants to shower her with gifts and money, but that his claims and hopes can’t quite be backed up. ‘Kiss Me on the Bus’ is seemingly a bit more poppy and straightforward, and continues the love theme running through the album.

‘Waitress in the Sky’ is the next song really worth dissecting. It’s become quite infamous for having a protagonist who is a total asshole, perhaps presenting the protagonist’s drunk alter-ego, which will show its face again later. Comparing this woman to a “garbage man” and a “janitor” is pretty derogatory, and the contrast of the douchey lyrics with the perky acoustic guitar suggests an intentional irony to me here. The protagonist (who I suppose I can call Tim) clearly has a high opinion of himself, at least thinking he is above the people serving him on a plane. The dreamy ‘Swingin Party’ is an album highlight, and its light jazziness almost seems to me as a representation of being tipsy and like an entry into this party that is “never ending”. Of course the “swingin party” in question is possibly an allusion to people hanging from their necks and could be another darker piece of imagery, alluding to the inevitable end course of alcoholism. “If being afraid is a crime we hang side by side” is a line I’ve always loved, hinting towards Tim’s view of the world, that we are all just scared and trying to get by.

“If being alone’s a crime

Then I’m serving forever

If being strong’s your kind

Then I need help here with this feather”

This set of lyrics brings us back to the love theme and really highlights Tim’s nihilsm and pessimism. His defeated attitude only really emerges at times throughout the album, but rears its head more and more until it reaches a climax with the closing song. ‘Bastards of Young’ seems like a more obviously triumphant song on face value, but paying any kind of attention to the first lines of the song will dispel that feeling.

“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 picking cotton, waiting to be forgotten.”

Westerberg here further emphasises Tim’s bleak view of the world, this time through his view of the scary world of being in your 20’s and lacking prospects. What I love about the character portrayed throughout this album is that my connection to his plight varies throughout. Of course, his douchey behaviour on ‘Waitress in the Sky’ is not particularly relatable and there are times where the pessimism gets a bit too much (yes, even for me!). But then come lines that just capture the human condition as well as anything those I mentioned earlier have:

“The ones who loves us best are the ones we’ll lay to rest,

Visit their graves on holidays at best,

The ones who love us least are the ones we’ll die to please,

But if it’s any consolation, I don’t begin to understand that.”

‘Bastards of Young’ is a total banger. Almost Bruce Springsteen-esque whilst also having that beautiful biting punky riff. It’s *so* heartland and such a great sing-a-long track, but it’s drenched in irony too. Westerberg was a part of the mid-80s punk/alternative rock scene himself, so I would imagine a lot of this is confessional. Very few bands drank like The Replacements did, and you could definitely safely assume that more often than not, their live performances involved plenty of beer. That is the great irony of The Replacements. Westerberg seemed to be more self-aware about his behaviour and more existential than those around him, but it didn’t stop him from being an absolute nutter. ‘Lay It Down Clown’ is another song that isn’t quite as open to analysis, but it’s short and snappy, catchy and fits really well in the flow of the album. It feels like a defiant display of classical masculinity that Westerberg was also prone to despite his sensitivity. Again, a man full of irony and dichotomy which makes him so fascinating to unpack.

‘Left of the Dial’ is another introspective track, with lines which foreshadow the final song again:

“Growin’ old in a bar

You grow old in a bar

Headed out to San Francisco

Definitely not L.A.”

The idea of stardom is another interesting theme throughout this album, mostly around Westerberg and his own band’s lack of radio success but here he is speaking down to someone (presumably an actor). Though there is also the growing existentialist theme where there is a paranoia around growing old alone with nothing beside you but drink. Penultimate track ‘Little Mascara’ is one of the most bleakly self-aware songs on the album and another that feels very Springsteen-esque.

“All you ever wanted is someone to take care of ya

All you’re ever losing is a little mascara.”

This is another hint that Tim can see the pain he’s causing around him. Merely pointing out that pain doesn’t get him anywhere though, and it seems this is where he is left permanently by his other half. The repeated refrain “That you cry your eyes out” is haunting, as he sees himself powerless to fix things. Of course, it seems he largely wasn’t powerless and could’ve changed his behaviour. To what extent these songs are connected and are autobiographical is up for debate, but it’s all there if you look for it. This could almost definitely be categorised as a breakup album, or at least an impending breakup album.

Then comes ‘Here Comes A Regular’, the glorious finale to this album and to my money, the greatest set of lyrics ever written. Let’s unpack:

“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.”

This first verse establishes the character at rock bottom. Of course the “mean, mean thirst” here is in reference specifically to alcohol and a dependence on it with a “hard day of nothin’ much at all” serving as either a sarcastic remark or a hint towards depression. This song is full of these kinds of double meanings in the lyrics. The defeatist attitude shines through most brightly on the repeated line “there ain’t much to rake anyway in the fall”, which of course… there is. By this point, our protagonist is so beaten down by his own toxic behaviour and the world around him that all that’s left for him is drink. The second verse ends with the line “I used to live at home, now I just stay at the house”, again emphasising the depression of the character. It’s interesting how the song paints the kind of people who spend all their time at pubs and bars. What starts off as an enjoyable hobby can quickly become miserable and make the rest of your life miserable. Considering the party animal that Westerberg was, it is a surprising change in attitude here. The chorus hammers home these points simply, with the closing line “am I the only one here today?” echoing out as if he were in a bar alone, which is changed in the second chorus to “am I the only one who feels ashamed?”.

The third verse paints the picture of someone rebuilding their life after drink had ruined it, with the ironic line capping it: “I’ll take a great big whiskey to ya anyway”. The song is positively heartbreaking. Tim at this point has lost everything. The line “I’m so sick of everything that my money can buy” calls back the second song ‘I’ll Buy’ in a harrowing way. The final verse calls back the end of the first verse effectively too:

“First the glass then the leaves that pass,

Then comes the snow,

Ain’t much to rake anyway in the fall.”

It’s a heavy end to an album that was largely a party, but not one that Westerberg had presented himself as having up to that point. This was a party clouded by paranoid self-awareness, watching time slip away as fast as loved ones had. A never-ending party swamped in misery and regret. Sure, there were some good times, but the biggest takeaways from Tim for me are not the screams of ecstasy and energetic joy. It’s more the existential musings, the shame, the loneliness and the dependence on the bottle. I could’ve talked about the musical elements more but I really feel the album deserves this kind of lyrical unpacking more than anything else. Maybe I’ll revisit it for a more musical review sometime, remember to bring your own lampshade.