I'll drink to that: Replacements book finally validates dozens of Mpls people's lives

Finally people in America's second drunkest city (based on a 2006 Forbes magazine report)have a nationally-recognized (maybe!) reason to be proud of their fine city. Let me rephrase that. People from Minneapolis are always proud of being from Minneapolis (or Murderapolis, a nickname popularized by the New York Times in 1995 when M-town's murder rates got ultra high). How could they not be? There's all that Frank Gehry/Michael Graves/Herzog and de Meuron new architecture, the city's got more theatre per capita than any American city apart from NYC, Tom Waits wrote a song about it, and there are those two bars that people go to all the time. So you see, people from Mpls are duly proud of being from their fair, fuckin' cold city, and they think it's damn well time that people from other parts of the world stopped lumping it in with those slovenly, less exhilarating Midwestern cities like...well, anywhere that is not Minneapolis or (I am being lenient here) St. Paul. The thing is, Minneapolis is in a league all of its own. You might not know it yet, but Minneapolis is the last point of civilization after leaving Chicago--the last place you can find truly awesome, big independent record stores, a college radio station that got big ups from super wordy/famous rock critic Greil Marcus, and a kickin' restaurant scene. All of these are valid reasons for setting M-town apart, but they are not the Most Important Reason. No. Because if you live in the Twin Cities, you know that the best band ever lived, rocked, and got fucked up in Minneapolis.

If you are from Minneapolis you obviously know that I am talking about the Replacements. If you are not from Minneapolis, this could be confusing for you. If you are from Minneapolis, and you are just reading that people from outside Minneapolis do not immediately think of the Replacements when they read the phrase "best band ever", let me explain for you, too.

Three Fun Facts About Minneapolis

1. Seemingly normal people from other parts of the country move to Minneapolis based in part on their appreciation for the Replacements (much like sedentary Grateful Dead fans, but with better personal hygiene and record collections!) I know this to be true about at least two people. I am not making this up.

2. People outside of Minneapolis do not always consider the Replacements to be the most life-changing, best band ever. Strange, but true!

3. Some people refer to the Replacements as "the 'Mats". This is a stupid nickname.


So, how are non-Mpls residents suddenly going to recognize the brilliance of these frequently-sloshed, flannel-rockin' hometown heroes that inspired three decades of Minneapolis dude life? With the publication of local music writer guy Jim Walsh's The Replacements: All Over But the Shouting: An Oral History, that's how. I admit it; I really am excited about this book. Like any good M-town expat I know which bar "Here Comes a Regular" is about, I've been to a solo Paul Westerberg show where dude smashed a guitar and refused to come back onstage, and I have even been ridiculously intoxicated and ill at the house where "Let It Be" was recorded. You'll see. The day when that twenty-year-old American Apparel douche in Portland and that former Bowery hipster doing consultancy work in Manhattan both happen to step inside their local Barnes and Noble, notice that Replacements book in between Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain's Please Kill Me and Michael Azerrad's Our Band Could Be Your Life and think, "Hmm, well, I am running out of punk-rock oral histories to read, perhaps I'll check this out!" that will be just the start. Gradually, consciousness of M-town's "I'm fairly sure it's still 1980 here" cool will spread. Just wait. It's only a matter of time before those "Mats at the Entry" t-shirts start popping up at Urban Outfitters.

There is a new best book ever.

Move over House of Mirth. You, too, Absalom, Absalom! Because there is a new best book ever, a book that could really have changed my life had I read it at an a younger age. It's written by a man with an imagination much more perplexing (and possibly hallucinogen-influenced) than my own. His name is Daniel Manus Pinkwater, and he's responsible for a little gem entitled Lizard Music. Basically, according to Amazon.com (where I found it), the book is pretty much what it sounds like. But with a twist! Because, you see, it's not just about lizards in a band. No. It's the story of how "when left to take care of himself, a young boy becomes involved with a community of intelligent lizards who tell him of a little known invasion from outer space."

How awesome do these guys sound!?!? I mean, if they know about this "little known invasion", what other obscure stuff do they know about? Could the lizard band recommend you an album that would really give you a good sense of the Turkish psychedelia scene circa 1971? Maybe they always know about the best new restaurants in town, the ones where the tastiest dishes aren't even on the menu and you have to ask specially for them? Perhaps one of them hosts an awesome bimonthly movie series where he shows rare experimental German films. Really, all you have to do is check out the cover to assess the situation. See the guy in front, the one who kinda looks like a Hell's Angel lizard squealing away on the sax? You just know he's brusque but kind-hearted, and that he'll become something of a surrogate father figure to the little boy.

And just 'cause I'm sort of burned out from the Halloweekend, here's a picture that was for three minutes earlier today the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Who knew lizards were so soulful? This guy is DEFINITELY into Elliot Smith.

I am obsessed with the American West

For some reason, spring/summer always makes me want to go on a roadtrip out west. Do I ever do this? No. Why? I blame my friends. Who would not want to spend 17 hours in a car with me? We could go to Reptile Gardens! We could eat pie at diners! We could go to Mystery Spots! I would not make you listen to Depeche Mode's cover of "Route 66" all the time. Just once or twice.

Richard Grant, author of "Ghost Riders: Travels with American Nomads", would probably go on a road trip with me. I mean, this blog is named after a Suicide song, and the title of his book may or may not be a reference to another Suicide song, "Ghostrider"! So obviously we'd never run out of topics for conversation. I could ask him about the RVers, hobos, and frontier re-enactors he describes in this excellent account of the various subcultures (both past and present) that live on the American road year round. He could ask me about the amazing amount of web traffic coming to this blog every day. He's a good guy, I imagine, this Richard Grant. So read his book and maybe write him an email--don't be too creepy, though-- and ask him to assist me in my life-long career goal of being a drifter.