As we celebrate the Ed Stasium remix of The Replacements album ‘Tim‘, we thought gathering other music lovers’ thoughts would be a great way to stop and consider the impact of this record. The second ‘Revisit’ comes from our friend and music writer, Kevin Alexander. Make sure you subscribe to his Substack!
There used to be a wall in downtown Portland Oregon, where someone had painted “Paul Westerberg is God.” Anytime my friends and I were down there, we’d see it, laugh, and make the sort of inside jokes funny only to us.
It would be ~25 years between seeing that sign and finally seeing the Replacements. My wife & I drove 75 miles to hear 26 songs, and it was worth every last minute. My ears bled like I thought they might. It was everything we expected. And more.
It would take 38 years for The Replacements’ Tim album to get the remix it deserves. The result is far more than merely “punching up the drums” or tweaking a note here or there. Ed Stasium has overhauled the record, resulting in a much more dynamic, heavier sound.
The original was produced by Tommy Erdelyi (better known as Tommy Ramone) and sounds tinny, nasally even. Despite being packed with songs we hold so close, there is a distance to it. It’s flat, but to my ear, that’s how most ‘Mats records before Don’t Tell A Soul sounded.
It was all part of the bargain and matched their (then) chaotic style, which never much lent itself to fidelity. The record production on Tim left a lot on the table, but The Replacements was always a band that rolled their eyes at terms like “potential,” so maybe that was part of the bargain too.
Tim represents an inflection point for the band where Westerberg’s lyrics start pivoting toward a more poignant place. Think less “Gary’s Got A Boner” and more “Little Mascara.“
With Stasium’s help, the sound is finally leveled up to match the words.
The usual box set ingredients (B-sides, live tracks, etc.) are here, but the original album tracks themselves are the real treasure. Listening to a fresh take on something so familiar can be fraught, but Stasium has gone to great lengths to amplify & enhance only the best parts and finally bring the music closer.
To my ear, the biggest changes are to the rhythm section. Tommy Stinson’s bass had always been relegated to the back, almost an afterthought as Westerberg and Bob Stinson battled it out on guitar. Here, his playing is much closer to the front, and the lines are much cleaner and clearer.
Chris Mars also benefits from revisiting the record. With Stasium’s touch, the drumming is revealed as much more intricate. Even listening with less-than-stellar headphones, you hear new fills here or a cymbal crash there. A record like Tim is one you grow to love by heart, down to every last note. Hearing a series of new parts in the equation is unexpected but in the best way.
Bob Stinson sees some posthumous redemption here, too. At this point in the original recording, he was already headed toward drug-fueled oblivion and had a much-reduced role on the record- almost as a vestigial nod to their louder, more raucous days than anything else. Part of that is down to his wrestling with his demons, but part of that might’ve been down to being on the outside looking in.
With Westerberg taking an increasing turn toward being a singer-songwriter, where’d he fit in?
Indeed, one of the two “Bob” tracks is “Dose Of Thunder,” a lovely homage to scoring speed. I used to regard it and “Lay It Down Clown” as two of the weaker tracks on the record. Neither will make any “favorite ‘Mats song of mine” lists, but both are improved significantly here, sounding more electrifying. More importantly, both highlight Stinson’s guitar work as someone who, despite going completely off the rails, could still nail it when the mood struck.
No track perhaps encapsulates all of this better than the “new” version of “Little Mascara.” Westerberg has a knack for squeezing an entire story into one verse; this is no exception. The original is good, but this is sublime. Parts have been moved around and overhauled. The intro is now the chorus, each verse a step up to the next, and the whole track is now somehow even more anthemic–and that’s before we get to the outro, which is much longer and features a ripping solo by Stinson.
It just might be my new favorite.
If you dig far enough on YouTube, there is cellphone footage from the show my wife and I were at. Like the early ‘Mats records, it’s raw and shaky. It’s short on production but long on enthusiasm.
As Westerberg tears into the opening riff of “Bastards of Young,” someone just out of frame says, “f**k yeah!” it’s more rapturous than anything– as if the person has been waiting their whole life to hear those chords in person. It’s a dream fulfilled.
In a lot of ways, the newly mixed “Tim” is the same way.
In the world of music, there are certain instruments that transcend their conventional roles, carrying with them the weight of history and the soul of a culture. Among these, the cigar box guitar has emerged as a true icon, steeped in bluesy mystique and a symbol of defiance against the conventional. This unassuming instrument, born from the ingenuity of impoverished musicians captured the essence of a genre so perfectly that it became emblematic of an entire musical movement. The electric guitar is undoubtedly one such instrument, carrying the weight of rock ‘n’ roll on its frets. Yet, nestled in the dusty corners of American musical heritage, there’s another instrument that’s been making a quiet but powerful comeback, breathing life into the roots of blues and folk music: the Cigar Box Guitar. This humble instrument, often crafted from repurposed materials like cigar boxes, reclaimed wood, and improvised hardware, has seen a resurgence in recent years, reviving the spirit of the Delta blues and capturing the imaginations of musicians and artisans alike.
The origins of the Cigar Box Guitar are as humble as the materials used to construct it. It traces its roots back to the mid-1800s when it first emerged in the American South. In those days, slaves and impoverished workers denied access to conventional musical instruments, turned to their resourcefulness. They pieced together these simple, resonant instruments from discarded cigar boxes, broomsticks, and whatever else was readily available. These creations, initially seen as products of necessity, soon became the voice of a generation. The sound of a Cigar Box Guitar wails with the sorrow of the Delta, echoing the hardships and hopes of its creators.
Fast forward to the early 20th century, and the Cigar Box Guitar found its place in the burgeoning blues scene. Musicians like Blind Willie Johnson, Lightnin’ Hopkins, and Hound Dog Taylor adopted these homemade instruments, which were often easier to obtain than store-bought alternatives. The raw, primal sound of the Cigar Box Guitar complemented the emotional intensity of the blues, resulting in a unique and unforgettable sonic experience. These instruments embodied the spirit of the working-class bluesmen, using whatever they had to create music that would resonate through the ages.
The revival of the Cigar Box Guitar can be attributed to a confluence of factors. First and foremost, there was a growing desire among musicians to break away from the homogenized sound of mass-produced instruments and return to a more authentic, raw, and grassroots approach to music-making. In an era dominated by digital technology and auto-tuned perfection, the Cigar Box Guitar stands as a symbol of authenticity, imperfections, and individuality.
Another catalyst for this resurgence was the DIY (do-it-yourself) movements that have periodically swept through the musical world. Musicians and hobbyists began building their own Cigar Box Guitars, drawing inspiration from the past while infusing their creations with modern design sensibilities. The internet played a crucial role in connecting like-minded enthusiasts, enabling them to share knowledge, tutorials, and resources for building and playing these unique instruments. This newfound sense of community further fueled the Cigar Box Guitar revival.
This revival was not limited to just musicians. Artisans and craftsmen embraced the Cigar Box Guitar as a canvas for their creativity. These instruments became works of art, adorned with intricate designs, and crafted with meticulous attention to detail. Luthiers experimented with different materials and techniques, pushing the boundaries of what a Cigar Box Guitar could be. The intersection of craftsmanship and music gave rise to a subculture of Cigar Box Guitar enthusiasts, turning these instruments into coveted collector’s items.
One of the most significant factors contributing to the resurgence of the Cigar Box Guitar was its role in the modern blues and roots music scene. Musicians like Ben Harper, Seasick Steve, Samanta Fish, and Jack White began incorporating Cigar Box Guitars into their performances and recordings, introducing a new generation of listeners to the instrument’s unique and evocative sound. These artists breathed fresh life into the blues tradition, using Cigar Box Guitars to connect with the genre’s deep roots while adding their own contemporary twists.
Moreover, Cigar Box Guitar festivals and gatherings started popping up across the country, providing a platform for enthusiasts to showcase their creations and talents. These events brought together musicians, luthiers, and fans, fostering a sense of camaraderie and celebration of the instrument’s rich history. The Cigar Box Guitar had officially made its comeback and was here to stay.
The resurgence of the Cigar Box Guitar has not only been a revival of a musical instrument but also a revival of a rich cultural and artistic tradition. It’s a testament to the enduring power of music to transcend time and place, to connect people across generations, and to keep the spirit of the blues alive.
Today, Cigar Box Guitars come in various shapes and sizes, from the traditional three-string models to more experimental creations with multiple strings and complex electronics. Some are adorned with intricate artwork, while others retain the rustic charm of their predecessors. What unites them all is the unmistakable sound that harks back to the origins of the blues—a sound that carries the weight of history and the soul of the Delta.
As the Cigar Box Guitar resurgence continues to gain momentum, it serves as a reminder of the enduring appeal of handmade, authentic music. It’s a tribute to the resourcefulness of those who, in times of hardship, crafted beauty from the simplest of materials. It’s a celebration of the blues, a genre born from pain but tempered with resilience and hope.
In an age where the music industry is often dominated by commercialism and conformity, the Cigar Box Guitar resurgence is a rebellious and refreshing movement. It reminds us that music is not just a product to be consumed but a living, breathing art form that can be reinvented, reimagined, and reclaimed by anyone with a passion for its power.
As the Cigar Box Guitar takes center stage once again, it beckons us to rediscover the roots of American music, honor the legacy of those who played it in the past, and to carry forward the torch of creativity and authenticity. In the hands of a new generation of musicians and artisans, the Cigar Box Guitar is not just an instrument; it’s a testament to the enduring spirit of the blues and a symbol of the boundless possibilities that can arise from the simplest of beginnings.
So, as you listen to the hauntingly beautiful strains of a Cigar Box Guitar, remember that it’s more than just an instrument; it’s a living piece of history, a testament to the enduring power of music, and a reminder that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can emerge from the most ordinary of materials. The Cigar Box Guitar resurgence is a testament to the timeless allure of handmade music, and it’s a revival that’s here to stay, carrying the spirit of the blues into a new era.
Dayton musician Max B. Greene has a new collection of blues music recorded on 3-string cigar box guitars that he is celebrating on Thursday, October 5th alongside guitarists Casey Ott, Eric Henry, Todd the Fox, and Cigar Box Scott. Max will be bringing in one of his guitars and playing a couple tunes on a cigar box guitar, as well as discussing the cigar box guitar phenomenon sweeping the country.
Tamar Berk’s “Shadow Clues” from her record “Tiny Injuries” is a haunting brilliant masterpiece that weaves a tapestry of emotions with each delicate note and evocative lyric. Much like a detective searching for hidden truths, Berk’s songwriting skillfully unravels the complexities of the human experience, leaving listeners mesmerized and introspective.
From the very first chords, “Shadow Clues” cast a spell, drawing you into its ethereal lightless world. Is it dark because of our choices, the slow realization that we can only hold back the long night for so long? Berk’s voice, a rich and emotive instrument in its own right, resonates with a raw vulnerability that feels like a whispered confession in the dead of night. Berk’s singing evokes Rebecca Gates. Her phrasing and delivery are reminiscent of great music storytellers, yet there’s a contemporary edge that makes the song uniquely her own. The slow build of the song encapsulates the twists and turns of both discovery and disconnection.
The lyrics of “Shadow Clues” are a masterclass in epic storytelling. Berk paints vivid images with her words, offering glimpses into a shadowy world of secrets that linger in both delicate exploration and uncertainty. Consider lines like:
"Because all that you learned was a solid stare
And a stiff upper lip and a handshake grip
And a deadpan expression with a frigid touch
Unresponsive to the needles that stab you so much"
These lyrics evoke a sense of mystery and intrigue, while the chorus’s refrain of “You know I never know What you’re feeling, Look for the shadow clues, On the ceiling” carries a sense of longing, fear, and nostalgia that is impossible to ignore. Yet you want to know what is being felt. But you can’t. Is this a song about losing someone we care about and watching them fade away from us when all we want is to see the life run back into their face, their hands, their spirit? It feels that way.
The arrangement of the song is equally captivating. The instrumentation is sparse and building, allowing Berk’s voice to take center stage, but every instrument is carefully chosen and expertly played. The haunting, almost cinematic quality of the music complements the lyrical themes, creating an atmosphere of suspense and melancholy that lingers long after the song fades.
In “Tiny Injuries,” Tamar Berk has crafted an album that explores the complexities of love, loss, and self-discovery through pain, and “Shadow Clues” stands out as a standout track that encapsulates the album’s emotional depth. It’s a song that demands repeated listens, revealing new layers of meaning and nuance with each playthrough.
“Shadow Clues” by Tamar Berk is a song that deserves to be celebrated and dissected, a beautiful piece of art that speaks to the human condition with honesty and grace. It’s a reminder of the power of music to touch the soul and stir the heart, and Tamar Berk is undoubtedly an artist more than capable of weaving a landscape of distance and closeness in unison. And this song catches in your throat like the effort to suppress a cry that traveled through you and within great distance in order to be released.
In the throes of a vibrant local music scene, one might expect shows in the community to be a cultural cornerstone, drawing diverse crowds in droves for a singular reason, seeing great local music. Yet, in recent years, there has been a decline in the attendance of these grassroots gatherings. Even before the Covid-19 pandemic, a decline in the number of people attending music events was shrinking. As I dig deep into this challenge, we take some time and think about the many reasons why people are increasingly opting to stay home rather than stepping out for a night of live music. In the spirit of trying to understand this so that we can encourage attendance at local shows, let’s embark on a brief effort to explore the dynamics that are reshaping the landscape of local music event attendance.
I have to be honest about my motivation. I am an active show-goer! I attend many local, regional, and national music events and shows. I am a passionate supporter of local, Dayton, Ohio, and regional music — a major premise of Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.
I was fortunate to experience some amazing music during my college years (1983-1988) in the state of Minnesota during a time of unbelievable explosion in creativity attending shows from Husker Du, The Replacements, Soul Asylum, Prince, The Gear Daddies, The Suburbs, The Jayhawks, Run Westy Run, ZuZu’s Petals, and so many more. I also saw touring bands such as R.E.M., The Connells, The dbs, NRBQ, Miracle Legion, The Ramones, and far more than there is time to list. And since the 2000s, I have attended more local shows in the Dayton, Ohio area than I can list here. Mrs. Dr. J and I spend time each week planning what shows we will attend and there are more shows that we would go see than we have time.
The Allure of Digital Convenience
One inescapable factor reshaping the landscape of local music event attendance is the digital age. In an era where the world is at our fingertips, streaming services and virtual concerts offer an unparalleled level of convenience. The ease of tuning into your favorite artist’s live stream from the comfort of your own home is a siren song that has seduced many away from the raucous atmosphere of local venues.
Digital platforms not only offer ease of access but also empower fans to curate their music experiences. With personalized playlists and algorithmic recommendations, listeners can indulge in a highly tailored musical journey, often without the need to step one single foot outside. The pull of the digital realm is undeniably strong and presents a substantial challenge for local music scenes. That coupled with the abysmally low compensation for digital streams can create a financial hardship for bands and musicians.
Economic Considerations
Local music events have traditionally been an affordable and accessible option for music fans. However, the economics of entertainment have been shifting beneath our feet. Ticket prices, particularly for well-known local acts, have been creeping upwards, costs that were under $20 for a couple have now increased as acts and venues seek to recoup expenses. Considering the cost of transportation, parking, drinks, and merchandise, attending local music events can strain the budgets of many.
Furthermore, the gig economy has reshaped the financial stability of younger generations, making disposable income scarcer. This financial precariousness forces potential attendees to weigh the value of a night out against other financial priorities and expenses. For some, the fun of local music events is overshadowed by the economic realities of life in the 21st century.
Changing Tastes
Music, like any art form, evolves over time, and so do its listeners. What fans want to hear changes. The kinds of performances that draw a crowd evolve. The changing demographics of music audiences have led to a diversification of musical tastes and preferences. Local music events, with their challenge of advertising — the perennial problem of ‘getting the word out’ — may not always reach the eclectic tastes of a diverse audience.
As a result, individuals who prefer genres or styles not typically showcased at local events may be disinclined to attend. The widening spectrum of musical genres, coupled with the ease of access to niche music communities online, means that many can explore their musical interests without ever leaving their comfort zones.
We also have to consider that the reluctance to attend local shows may have increased post-pandemic. There may be a greater concern about being in a crowd due to health concerns.
The Urbanization Conundrum
In the shifting demographic landscape, urbanization has played a critical role in reshaping local music event attendance. Cities are cultural hubs teeming with artistic expression, and local music scenes thrive in these environments. Yet, the downside of urbanization is the relentless pace of life and the reluctance of folks who live in the suburbs to come into the city to experience music events. For some city dwellers, the cacophony of daily life is enough to discourage them from seeking out additional auditory stimulation at local events.
Furthermore, urban areas are often marked by high living costs, making it challenging for residents to prioritize regular attendance at local music events. The erosion of affordability in urban centers can lead to a decline in the vibrancy of local music scenes.
The Virtual Spectacle vs. the Live Experience
The allure of virtual entertainment, I discussed above, has challenged the primacy of the live music experience. Virtual concerts and livestreams allow artists to reach global audiences without the constraints of venue capacity or geographic location. While this may be a boon for artists, it poses a dilemma for local music scenes. If you can see your favorite artists without leaving home, why go to a local show?
The virtual spectacle, enhanced by breathtaking visuals and immersive technology, can rival the in-person experience. As artists invest in creating jaw-dropping digital performances, the question of whether the palpable energy of a live crowd can compete arises for us. For some, the convenience and spectacle of virtual entertainment outweigh the communal experience of local music events. However, the solitary experience of watching a concert in your living room separated from your friends and fellow music lovers can feel hollow. Of course, this assumes that people want to experience music together with people they may not know.
The decline in local music event attendance is a complex web of economic factors, shifting cultural tastes, technological convenience, and the pull of virtual entertainment. As the music industry continues to evolve in the digital age, local scenes must adapt to these changing dynamics to remain relevant and vibrant. To lure audiences back into the heart of their local music communities, venues and artists alike must offer experiences that transcend the allure of digital convenience and rekindle the magic of the live music event and the community that is built in those experiences. In doing so, we can ensure that the fading applause of local music events reverberates once more, echoing through the spaces where music is played.
What factors would you add to this consideration? What can we do to encourage more people to attend music events and shows in our local communities?
We Met in Paris‘ “Mont Blanc Massif” is a shock wave that leaves you gasping for breath in the rarified air of musical transcendence. This track is like a rollercoaster ride through the turbulent landscapes of human emotion, an exploration that takes you to the summit of musical ecstasy. It’s a song that grabs you by the ears and doesn’t let go until it’s wrung every drop of emotion from your soul.
From the opening notes, “Mont Blanc Massif” is a relentless force, like a raging river carving its path through the mountains. The driving rhythm section — including driving bass lines — provides the foundation for a cascade of sound that crashes over you like an avalanche, sweeping you up in its turbulent flow. The guitars roar like thunder, and the drums are the thunderclaps that punctuate this musical storm.
And then there’s the voice of Ruth Fawcett, a voice that’s simultaneously haunting and full of longing. It’s a voice that cuts through the noise and reaches into the very core of your being. It’s a voice that tells a story, a story full of depth that does not shirk yearning and despair. It’s a voice that doesn’t just sing the words; it embodies them, living and breathing every syllable.
The lyrics themselves are powerful, a raw and unfiltered outpouring of emotion about the sensation of being surrounded by natural beauty. They paint a picture of action that’s as majestic and treacherous as the Mont Blanc Massif itself. It’s an experience that soars to dizzying heights and plummets to unfathomable depths, a journey that feels fast, beautiful, and possibly destructive.
But it’s not just the individual elements of the song that make it so intense; it’s the way they come together in a perfect storm of sound and emotion. The arrangement is a masterclass in dynamics, building and releasing tension with expert precision. It’s a song that takes you on a rollercoaster of emotion, from the quiet introspection of the verses to the explosive release of the choruses.
“Mont Blanc Massif” is not just a song; it feels full of movement and that is appropriate since it is a song written about being within the Mont Blanc Massif mountain range. The song is a reminder that music has the power to touch us in ways that words alone cannot. It’s a testament to the enduring power of rock and roll that, even in our darkest moments, there is beauty to be found all around us.
In a world filled with disposable music whose only concern is staying with formulaic pursuits in both style and content, We Met in Paris‘ “Mont Blanc Massif” stands as an impressive achievement of the enduring power of rock and roll to move us, challenge us, and remind us of the beauty and complexity of the human experience. It’s a song that demands to be heard, and once you’ve heard it, you’ll never be the same.
Nineteen years feels like a long time to do anything. Why do a radio show when no one may be listening?
Let me tell you, being a radio DJ isn’t just a gig; it’s a cosmic voyage into the heart of musical expression and requires more endurance than you think. Just the other day, someone came up to me with ‘Hey, you’re that weird DJ guy!’ To which I answered, ‘Yup.’ And then they said, “Why do a show when you know no one is listening!” And, I stopped short, wondered about whether they were right, and then came to the conclusion that as long as one person finds comfort, as long as one person finds a song that speaks to them – then it matters. We are a community. We stand strong in the face of a destructive tide of avoidance and ignorance of new music. And that’s why I am who I am, standing behind the microphone every Tuesday afternoon, steering the ship that is ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.’
If I were to condense 19 years of my life into a single, rhythmic heartbeat, it would be the pulsating cadence of a radio wave, broadcasting stories, music, and dreams to an invisible audience. My journey through college radio has been a dance with the ether, a passionate affair with sound, and a canvas for my creative expression. I invite you to join me on a nostalgic journey through the tapestry of my radio experience.
The Birth of an Odyssey
As the crackling needle touched vinyl for the first time in 1983, I found myself immersed in a world that was both electrifying and liberating. I began doing radio to work on improving my stutter but I also wanted to know more about music. I wanted to comb through the vinyl collection and find records that I had read about but never had the chance to hear. I was hungry for music old and new. College radio at the University of Minnesota was not just a hobby; it was a calling. Like music journalist David Marsh dissecting the nuances of rock lyrics, I dissected the frequencies and wavelengths that carried the voices of generations before me while anxiously awaiting the new music that was to come.
My first show, Radio Artifacts, was from 1983 to 1984 where I truly learned about indie music, Minnesota-based bands, and in so many ways the future of music through bands like R.E.M., Hüsker Dü, The Smiths, U2, The Replacements, The Cure, The Connells, and The Clash. From 1984 to 1988, a new show focused on alternative and college music and the art of music making, the poorly named ‘Art for Artsake’ that was both a play on my first name and — at least to me — a reflection of the mission of the show. During graduate school from 1988 to 1993, I was involved with Bowling Green State Universities’ WBGU where I had a succession of shows whose names were lost to reflections and glimpses of memory. After grad school, I dabbled in radio at WMUB in Oxford, Ohio from 1995 to 2000. For four years I had an itch I could not scratch.
The love of indie and alternative music was something that stayed with me even without a show. But eventually, that itch became unbearable and I started a show “The School of Rock with Dr. J” in 2004 at The University of Dayton’s WUDR. Modeled in some ways on the Jack Black movie — yeah I know: Cue the eye roll. TSOR was an almost didactic approach, I played music that mattered to me and explored current indie, local, and Dayton music. I explored how current unknown and undiscovered music was connected to the music of the past. Several shows explored how The Byrds – The Flying Burrito Brothers – The Eagles – Jason and the Scorchers – Cowpunk – Uncle Tupelo – Son Volt and Wilco were all connected. The airwaves were my playground from which I discovered the richness of independent, alternative, and college music.
During these various shows, I interviewed indie artists and underground bands. College radio was not just about the music; it was about the stories behind the notes. The vibrant community of DJs, producers, and listeners was a testament to the power of shared passion. Just like Dave Marsh in his work united rock aficionados, we united lovers of alternative sounds, forging connections beyond the frequencies.
Nineteen years is a long time to do anything, and within the span of my radio experiences, I have witnessed the tectonic shifts in the audio and radio landscape. College radio stations evolved from humble FM stations to digital juggernauts streaming across the globe. Writers and journalists have chronicled the evolution of rock music, and I chronicled the evolution of radio itself in the changes in my own practice. The use of digital tools has made so much of the “doing of radio” the clicks of buttons and the dragging of files. Many tasks that once involved carts and tape or vinyl were replaced with CDs which in turn were replaced themselves with digital files. The advent of the internet brought a new dawn, expanding our reach but also challenging our authenticity. Is radio still real in the digital age? In an era of Spotify, does radio still matter when you can listen to what you want, when you want, and do it all in the palm of your hand? Why do a radio show when no one might be listening?
The Sonic Shaman
You see, being a radio DJ is more than just “spinning tracks,” It’s more than just “playing music.” It is far more than just clicking a button and dragging a cursor across the soft glow of a computer screen. It’s about conjuring emotions and weaving stories through sound. When I join with the airwaves and internet signals, I am driven by faith in the power of new music. The beauty and the lifeblood of local music call to me. Maybe all of this is some strange and unchangeable part of being a “music evangelist.” Perhaps one becomes a sonic shaman of sorts, guiding listeners through the labyrinthine tapestry of music. Every tune I play carries a piece of my soul, and when those frequencies hit your ears, they transcend mere notes and rhythms. It’s a trip through time and space seeking the person who feels alone with a simple message that they are not disconnected, they matter and the community is better for their contributions.
The Rebel Cry
Lester Bangs, one of the quintessential American rock critics, taught us that music is the language of rebellion. And that’s precisely what I aim to channel with ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative.’ It’s a rebellion against the mundane, against the homogenized playlists of corporate radio. in my vision of myself, I am like the underground guerrilla fighter, battling the forces of mediocrity with a vinyl arsenal of sonic revolutionaries. Each song I play is a battle cry, a defiant scream against the mainstream. Or at least, that is probably what I really want to believe because, you know, 19 years is a long time.
The Community Connection
Radio is a lifeline to the community, a bridge between disparate souls. ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’ is not just a show; it’s a lifeline for misfits, dreamers, and music lovers who still hang tight to the idea that music matters. I’m not just playing records; I’m forging connections. I’m the curator of a sonic underground, bringing people together through the magic of music. When that listener calls in to request a song, it’s more than a request; it’s a statement that says, “I’m part of this, too.” Those moments of connection are more important now than ever before. We need that musical validation: “Look, we are here and the music that speaks to us matters.”
The Quest for Obscurity
Lester Bangs was all about the obscure, the unknown, the raw. I share that passion. My show isn’t about chart-toppers or Billboard hits; it’s about the hidden gems, the indie bands struggling for recognition, the perfect voice that chills us while holding us close and telling us that everything is going to be alright. YTAA is about the beautiful unknowns, the forgotten tracks that deserve a second chance, and the great new songs that need to be heard. I think of myself as a musical archaeologist, digging through archives, near and far, and unearthing sonic treasures. It’s about unearthing the lost voices and forgotten riffs that deserve a place in the sun.
The Journey Continues
So why am I a radio DJ with ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’? Why continue to be a DJ even if no one is listening? Because it’s not just a job; it’s a calling, a mission, a cosmic journey through the soundscape of the human experience. It’s a rebellion, a lifeline, and a quest for the obscure. It’s about community, connection, and the never-ending search for that perfect riff, that perfect groove, that unbelievable hit of the drum, that chilling voice that makes you catch your breath. It’s about the song that you cannot forget, no matter how hard you may try. It’s about the perfect lyric that shows you that you are not alone in feeling the way that you do.
Today, as I look back on 19 years of college/indie/alternative radio with YTAA, I see the echoes of countless voices, the resonance of music that touched souls, and the indelible mark it left on my life. David Marsh once wrote, “Rock and roll is an attitude, it’s not a musical form of a strict sort. It’s a way of doing things, of approaching things.” College radio, in my world, was — and is — that attitude – a way of doing things that transcended the mere act of broadcasting. So, yeah, it’s more than pushing a button and just playing a song. I would like to believe that it matters, and if it has meant something to just one person somewhere, anywhere then it was absolutely worth it for me.
Hopefully, this essay has helped chronicle my lifelong journey with college/indie radio – a journey that echoed the rhythms of my heart, shaped my identity, and allowed me to be a storyteller in a world of sound. Just as the radio DJs, Music writers, and journalists of the past contributed words that continue to resonate with music enthusiasts, the memories and experiences of 19 years on the airwaves/internet will forever resonate within me, a testament to the enduring power of radio and the magic of its transmission through time and space.
In the spirit of Lester Bangs, I’ll keep cranking up the volume, diving deep into the musical abyss, and taking you along for the ride. Because ‘Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative’ is not just a show; it’s an alternative reality, a refuge for the sonic explorers, and a testament to the power of music to change our lives. So, tune in, turn it up, and let’s keep this cosmic journey rolling for as long as we are able to do so.
As we celebrate the Ed Stasium remix of The Replacements album ‘Tim‘, we thought gathering other music lovers’ thoughts would be a great way to stop and consider the impact of this record. Our first ‘Revisit’ comes from our friend, Jim Doherty known as DJ Calc on WRKC Radio Kings College in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
One of the joys of parenting my children as they move through their teen years has been re-engaging with music I have loved and falling in love with records all over again. This has happened a number of times when I manage to convert my kids into being fans of music that matters to me. Sometimes, however, falling in love all over again does not involve my kids. Sometimes it is just me and an album I thought I knew.
One band that I have not converted my kids, or my wife, to is The Replacements. In some ways, I see this as a failure of parenting. In some ways, though, this means that I get to lose myself in Paul Westerberg’s world without sharing that with anyone else in my house. Twice now in the past three years, I have fallen head over heels in love with a Replacements album that has already been part of my life for decades. A couple of years ago it was the Matt Wallace remix of Don’t Tell a Soul. This week, it is the Ed Stasium remix of Tim.
I started working at a record store in my college town in 1984 and one of the slew of miraculous albums that came out then was Let it Be. That album began a lifelong love affair with The Replacements. When Tim, their major label debut, came out in 1985 I was predisposed to love it and love it I have for decades now. But that love was always tempered a bit by the sort of soggy sound of the record. Tommy Stinson and Chris Mars, a dynamite rhythm section that roared on the earlier records by the band seemed neutered on this album. The guitars did not ring with the same power I was used to from the ‘Mats. It was easy to blame this on the record being their major label debut and the finger generally got pointed at the corporate label that wanted to tame the band. As with most stories, this was way too simple a reading of the situation.
Listening to this new remix almost feels like I am listening to some lost chapter of the band. The rhythm section kicks, and there is space for the guitars to ring, especially Bob Stinson who is still somewhat of a ghost on this album. The outro to ‘Little Mascara’ is a revelation. Westerberg’s voice – especially on ‘Little Mascara’ and ‘Here Comes a Regular’ – is just heartbreaking in its emotional depth. For a person whose public character was that of a person who could not be bothered to care (a favorite lyric of his is “One foot in the door, the other foot in the gutter. The sweet smell that you adore, yeah I think I’d rather smother”) it is sure clear in his singing here that he is deeply invested in these songs and in the characters being portrayed.
The Replacements’ 1985 masterpiece, “Tim,” has long been celebrated as a cornerstone of alternative rock history. With its timeless blend of punk energy and heart-wrenching ballads, the original album left an indelible mark on the music landscape. However, the production of ‘Tim’ has since its release been a subject of debate. While the original mix captured the power of the band, there was simply a lot of detail that was lost in an odd choice of mono-focused production and lo-fi-like aesthetic.
Now, in 2023, we’re treated to “Tim Let it Bleed Edition,” a reissue that not only pays homage to the original but adds a raw, unfiltered layer that deepens the emotional resonance of the record. Although nothing new was added to the remixed tracks by Ed Stasium, what is different is that we all can now clearly hear what the band was doing.
This “Let it Bleed Edition” is more than just a reissue; it’s a journey back in time. The original tracks, from the borderline reckless “Bastards of Young” to the devasting and powerful “Little Mascara” to the poignant “Swingin Party,” are as impactful as ever, maybe even more so because from the vocals to the guitars, bass, and drums listeners can find the detail that was simply buried. Westerberg’s voice is even more fragile and vulnerable yet cheeky and tough in an “I don’t need your validation and approval” way. The Replacements’ signature blend of rebellion and vulnerability shines through, capturing the essence of youthful angst and uncertainty.
Bob Stinson’s guitar parts shine in this remixed record with a power, finesse, and movement that was lost in the mono aesthetic of the original. There are parts and aspects to his playing that were simply lost. The phasing and shifting of Stinson’s movement was far more than assumed whether he was playing a silly rocker (“Lay It Down Clown,” “Dose of Thunder”) or a serious reflection on life’s challenges (“Little Mascara,” “Bastards of Young”). Bob Stinson was a great guitar player who was far more sophisticated and expressive than the original mix concealed.
“Little Mascara” in particular becomes more powerful lyrically and sonically with this remix. The song’s impact becomes inescapable. The sense of anomie, frustration, and entrapment of the narrative escalates to feel almost suffocating. This version is mind-blowing in part because it brims with a collusion between chaos and sentiment. A spectacular song that is fully realized in this new version of the album.
Also long overdue is the reflection and realization of what an incredible bass player, Tommy Stinson was at the tender age of 18 when the album was recorded. Stinson’s bass parts demonstrate a strength, speed, dexterity, and maturity on his instrument that is shocking. To say he is a damn fine bass player feels like an understatement. The Stasium remix reveals some of the finest bass runs and progressions in contemporary rock and roll. These are now clear and convincing in this version of the record.
“Here Comes a Regular” changed greatly in the new mix. That song morphed from a wistful song to a deeply melancholic almost melodramatic tune. The clarity of the vocals now does not allow a listener to hide from the sadness. That heavy emotional pain is far too real now, inescapable. It feels punishing and unbearable in a way that the original mix did not.
What truly sets this edition apart is the inclusion of previously unreleased live recordings and studio outtakes. The live tracks transport you to the sweaty, beer-soaked clubs of the ’80s, where The Replacements were at their most electrifying. Songs like “Hold My Life” and “Kiss Me on the Bus” gain a new vitality when performed in front of an eager crowd.
Drums can make or break the sound of a record. And Chris Mars was done a serious disservice with the original mixing. In the new mix, Mars has a feel, sway, and rhythm that was made mushy and soft but is now revealed to be anything but that. Wow, Mars’ drumming had some swing that was buried in the approach of the first record.
The studio outtakes, on the other hand, reveal the band’s creative process in all its messy glory. The rawness and imperfections in these unreleased gems provide a fascinating insight into The Replacements’ genius. “Waitress in the Sky (Alt Version)” showcases Paul Westerberg’s unmistakable wit, while “Here Comes a Regular (Demo)” strips the song down to its bare emotional bones, offering a more intimate connection with the band’s songwriting process.
‘Tim Let it Bleed Edition’ may not be a radical reinterpretation of the original, but it doesn’t need to be. The uncovering and clarity that is provided on the remix is like receiving the record for the first time. Nothing has been added because it was all already there just waiting to be discovered. Instead of reframing, this remix is a heartfelt tribute to a classic album, a love letter to a band that forever altered the course of alternative rock and indie. This reissue is a must-listen for die-hard fans and a perfect entry point for those who have yet to discover The Replacements’ timeless sound.
One is left to wonder if The Replacements would have achieved far more had Sire Records released this version of the record? While, this author, loves “Let It Be” and I still believe “Pleased to Meet Me” is damn near perfect — this version demonstrates the band was so much more than what was assumed. So much of what they could do was buried, hidden from the listener. Would The Replacements have then met Sire Records’ expectations in terms of sales? Certainly, the band created a powerful impression even with the mono aesthetic of the original production.
In the end, ‘Tim Let it Bleed Edition’ serves as a testament to the enduring power of The Replacements’ music. It’s a reminder that even decades later, their songs still resonate with the same raw energy and emotional honesty that made them legends in the first place. This edition may have “Let it Bleed” in the title, but it’s the heart and soul of The Replacements that truly bleed through every note.
Elephants and Stars have put out an impressive array of albums in a few short years — Recovery (2020), Dreamland (2021), Last Chance Power Drive (2022) and Get Your Own Army (2023) — and have already made a meaningful impact to rock and roll with their incredible body of work. This Toronto-based band is like a supernova in the making, bursting onto the scene with a sound that’s as expansive and enthralling as the night sky. Elephants And Stars is thethird project formed around the long-running creative partnership of Manfred Stittmann and bassist Mike MacMillan, both of whom also formed the core of the late-90s/early-2000s groups Soap Opera and The First Time. The band has consistently delivered well-crafted songs with catchy melodies and thoughtful lyrics.
In the tradition of the great melodic rock and roll and New Wave bands of the ’70s and ’80s, Elephants and Stars takes us on a voyage of emotional release through their latest ‘Get Your Own Army‘. Their sonic palette is a rich tapestry woven with elements of rock, new wave, power pop, psychedelia, and folk, creating a sound that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly contemporary, a task that is hard to do in an authentic way. From the opening chords to the final fade-out, this album is a rollercoaster ride of musical nostalgia and contemporary innovation that illustrates that a music group can be versatile while delving into various musical styles. The band’s name itself suggests a blend of the colossal and the celestial, and their music lives up to this cosmic promise in perfect melodies that sway around deep storytelling and powerful lyrics.
The album kicks off with a thunderous guitar riff that immediately grabs your attention, setting the tone for what’s to come. “Gimme Ketamine,” is a true rock and roll track that grabs the listener and refuses to let go. Lead vocalist Stittman’s voice is a force of nature, akin to the gravitational pull of a black hole, drawing listeners into the band’s orbit. The instrumentation, featuring muscular guitar work, bouncing rhythms, and Cars-like synths, provides the perfect sonic backdrop for the band’s passions.
Throughout the album, the musicianship is outstanding. The guitars shred through parts large and small. The solos are played with precision and passion, while the rhythm section provides a solid foundation that keeps the songs grounded. One of the standout tracks is “Green Lights to Pasadena,” a sprawling epic that stretches the boundaries of the rock road song. It is a reflection on travel, perhaps personal, that takes the listener on a sonic adventure through landscapes of longing for effort and feeling lost: “We try until we don’t / Just die a little more.” The band’s musicianship shines here, with each member contributing to a propulsive and immersive sonic gestalt, everything mixed together with just a pinch of chaos. And you may find yourself swaying despite your resistance.
While Elephants and Stars draws inspiration from the past, they infuse their music with a modern sensibility and directness that keeps it from feeling like a mere nostalgia trip. Tracks like “Bled Out at the Scene” and “How Can It Be?” blend vintage influences with contemporary production techniques, creating a sound that’s both timeless, cutting-edge and so damn catchy. How often do we want to sing along to the slow realization of the death of a relationship?
“Get Your Own Army” is not just an album; it’s a sonic voyage through the heart of relationships viewed through a rock and roll lens. Elephants and Stars have crafted another fantastic record that showcases their immense talent and promises even greater rock and roll adventures in the future even while singing about the end, “On Your Deathbed (I wonder what you’ll think about).” With their captivating sound and down-to-earth vision, this Canadian band is poised to shine brightly in the ever-expanding universe of rock music with the simple realization that rock music lives.
Cold Expectations is a dark, jangle-pop band from Boston MA. Formed in 2016, Steve Prygoda (guitar, synth, and vocals) and JoEllen Saunders Yannis (bass, vocals) have shapeshifted the band’s sound over the years, creating 21st-century pop songs that borrow from the post-punk and new wave past. Mike Demers (Winter Project/Krebstar) fills out the band with incredibly poppy driving rhythms.
The song is Cold Expectations’ anthem to the weirdo art punks feeling isolated, misunderstood, and completely alone. Who knew there were so many of us that felt that way growing up? Our armor from the mundane, conformist world was leather jackets, trench coats, army boots, furious hair, and ferocious mixtapes, the weirder the better.
For the video, the band crept around the recently emptied Sound Museum rehearsal rooms on the move-out day as the venerable rehearsal space was closing, with JoEllen’s teen skateboarding through the hallway sporting a vintage “Sound Museum” tee. The frantic and energized vision for the video was brought to its glorious conclusion by ace videographer Allison Tanenhaus, who also produced the band’s “Two Blueberries” and “In the Padlocked Night” videos.
A very happy birthday — the big 3-0 — to ‘Ring‘ from The Connells! This record was life-changing for me.
After this record and through the music, I met the future Mrs. Dr. J. Immediately after the release of this album, I started a newsletter ‘Boylan Heights’ named after the band’s second full-length record and through that experience made lifelong friends. That was followed by a fan site for those who love the band. I traveled across the country to see so many shows – currently, I have seen the band perform over 100 times. A few years ago, I contributed to social media on behalf of fans and the band on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. And in a delightful twist of fate, I even became friends with the band.
If you’re looking for a sonic journey that takes you straight back to the heart of ’90s alternative rock mixed with the jangle of the 1980s, look no further than ‘Ring.’
In a world where the music landscape is constantly evolving, shifting, and moving under our feet, The Connells’ ‘Ring,’ stands as a testament to the enduring power of pure, unadulterated rock ‘n’ roll. This band crafted an album that harkens back to the golden era of jangling guitars and heartfelt lyrics, delivering a sound that’s as fresh as it is nostalgic.
‘Ring’ kicks off with the infectious “Carry My Picture,” a track that immediately transports you to the heyday of college radio, with its catchy hooks, shimmering guitar lines (courtesy of Mike Connell and George Huntley), and blistering drums (from the fantastic drumming of Peele Wimberley). The Connells effortlessly blend elements of jangle pop and alternative rock, creating a sound that’s instantly recognizable yet uniquely their own.
The album is a journey through life’s ups and downs, with songs like “74-75,” “Running Mary,” “Sprial” (sung by Mike Connell), and “New Boy” tugging at your heartstrings with introspective lyrics and undeniable emotional delivery. The Connells’ frontman, Doug MacMillan, pours his soul into each word, making you feel every emotion as if it were your own. In fact, the raw emotional gravity of “74-75” led to that song charting in the UK and several European countries in 1995. The band toured in the UK and throughout Europe on the strength of this song. The piano and keyboards of Steve Potak add the perfect final touches to the song.
One of the standout tracks, “Slackjawed,” is a masterclass in songwriting, with its infectious melody and clever wordplay. The song’s refrain is bound to stick in your head long after the record stops spinning.
While ‘Ring’ is filled with moments of introspection and melancholy, it also boasts its fair share of upbeat and anthemic tracks, such as “Slackjawed,” “Carry My Picture,” “Doin’ You” (written and sung by George Huntley), and “Hey You.” The songs on the album showcase The Connells’ ability to balance introspection with exuberance, making for a captivating listening experience from the moment of the album’s release on September 21, 1993, to today thirty years later. From the songs on this album alone, the band should be huge, selling out every stadium you can care to name.
In true rock music fashion, it’s impossible to discuss ‘Ring’ without mentioning the band’s impeccable musicianship. Mike Connell’s guitar work is a thing of beauty, providing the perfect backdrop for MacMillan’s evocative voice. George Huntley provides guitar lines to weave and sway with just the perfect touch. The rhythm section, anchored by drummer Peele Wimberley and bassist David Connell, keeps the songs moving with an infectious groove that feels effortless and perfect.
‘Ring’ should have led a revolution, this record should be on every music fan’s lips like Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ or Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born in the USA.’ ‘Ring’ is a reminder of the enduring power of great songwriting and the powerful magic of rock ‘n’ roll. The Connells crafted an album thirty years ago that captures the essence of a musical journey that still feels relevant in today’s ever-changing musical landscape. So, put the needle on the record or hit play on the CD player or stream it, and let ‘Ring’ take you on a journey through the timeless world of The Connells’ music. It’s a brilliant record that deserves a spot in your collection.
In an industry often saturated with formulaic hits and fleeting trends, Hello June stands as a refreshing gust of authenticity with their third single — ‘Sometimes’ — from the forthcoming album ‘Artifacts’. This indie-rock quartet hailing from Charleston, West Virginia, continues to carve their niche in the contemporary music scene with a sound that’s both hauntingly introspective and irresistibly groovy.
‘Sometimes’ opens with a mesmerizing guitar riff that immediately draws the listener into its melancholic embrace. The hauntingly beautiful vocals of frontwoman Sarah Rudy take center stage, carrying a raw emotional weight that’s impossible to ignore. Rudy’s voice, reminiscent of rock legends like PJ Harvey and Patti Smith, is both vulnerable and powerful, perfectly encapsulating the lyrical themes of introspection and self-discovery.
Lyrically, the song delves deep into the complexities of human existence and the ever-present battle between light and darkness within us. Lines like “Sometimes you want to cry / Sometimes you just can’t” resonate with universal truths, offering a lyrical depth that transcends the confines of typical rock fare. What we say and how we say it matters.
Musically, Hello June showcases their mastery of dynamics, seamlessly transitioning between hauntingly atmospheric verses and explosive, anthemic choruses. Artifacts, which comes out on October 6th on 31 Tiger Records, was recorded in Nashville at Bell Tone Recording with producer Roger Alan Nichols, featuring Rudy on vocals and guitar, Paul Niehaus on pedal steel (Calexico, Iron & Wine, Justin Townes Earle, Lambchop), Caleb Crosby on drums and percussion (Larkin Poe, Noah Gundersen), and Nichols on guitar (The Veronicas, Tyler Bryant & the Shakedown). The rhythm and swing of the song, anchored by drummer Caleb Crosby provide a solid foundation for the soaring guitar work of Rudy and Nichols punctuated by the dreamy pedal steel of Niehaus, all combining to create a sonic landscape that’s both captivating and emotionally charged.
‘Sometimes’ is a song that grows with each listen, revealing hidden layers and nuances that make it a standout track in Hello June’s body of work. It’s a testament to the band’s evolving artistry and their commitment to creating music that speaks to the human experience without feeling academic or false.
In an era when authenticity and genuine emotion often take a backseat to commercialism, Hello June’s “Sometimes” reminds us that there are still artists out there who are unafraid to bare their souls through their music. With its haunting melodies and introspective lyrics, this track solidifies Hello June as a band to explore and appreciate for anyone who loves a great song.
In “Sometimes,” Hello June has not only delivered a remarkable song but also a profound emotional journey that lingers long after the final notes fade. It’s a testament to the enduring power of rock and the boundless potential of this group. Keep an eye on Hello June; they’re poised to make waves in the music world.
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your tuesday afternoon alternative 