the replacements - let it be

(My farewell column for my college newspaper.)

I always imagined my last few weeks of college would be different.

In my mind, my remaining days would pass by in an introspective blur, my thoughts reaching back to all the memories I've made around campus in my four years here. In truth, the exact opposite is happening. I can't wait to get out of here, and I cringe thinking about all the embarrassing things I've said and done on all those regrettable weekend nights.

In that same vein, I feel no real desire to do this grandiose final column to sum up my time here or cement my legacy within the paper. (If the Rebecca Black column doesn't do that, nothing will.) Instead, I'm just going to write about my favorite album in the world and call it a day.

---

Fun fact: “Let It Be” by the Beatles is the second best rock album entitled “Let It Be.” By a significant margin.

Aside from the fact that the Beatles' version is an incredibly mediocre effort, a Minneapolis punk band called the Replacements put out a record in 1984 that completely dwarfs it, along with pretty much everything else the Beatles ever did.

The Replacements were the last true “drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll” band, and they have the scars to prove it. The Replacements would play a song called “Beer For Breakfast,” then start their day out with vodka. They lived the life every rock band in the 1980s claimed to live, only they did it for real.

The quartet battled drug and alcohol addictions throughout the 1980s, and guitarist Bob Stinson died in 1995 by simply wearing his body out through drug use. This album catches the band between their early punk immaturity and the more grown-up college sound that would characterize their later albums, with both playing styles deeply affected by the substance abuse that permeated the band.

“Let It Be” is almost directly split between these two sounds. Childish songs like “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out” and “Gary Got a Boner” are heavily contrasted by the emotional outpouring in “I Will Dare” and “Sixteen Blue,” effectively documenting those adolescent moments where you're not quite done being a kid, definitely not ready to be an adult, and desperately searching to make sense of everything around you.

For an album that will turn twenty-seven in October, this teenage concept holds up incredibly well. The inherent duality of adolescence rings true for any generation. Paul Westerberg's angst-ridden vocals, the best in rock 'n roll (save for the Boss), turn even the most lackluster lyrics into anthems. Every song is seemingly fueled by the very frustration and confusion Westerberg sings about, based off the same treacherous experiences that color everyone's teenage years, resulting in an album that anyone over the age of sixteen can relate to.

Given that I haven't matured that much since high school, this is clearly the album for me. I'd like to say my relationship dynamics have changed since I was sixteen, but they really haven't. The same old crap rears it's ugly head time after time, and luckily I'll always have “Let It Be” to make some sense of it.

- 4/26/11