Review Summary: Tommy Stinson’s debut solo effort is typical of many sidemen’s side-projects; uneven, unfinished and inexperiened
Time has afforded Tommy Stinson a lot more sympathy than it has ex-bandmate Paul Westerberg. The regrettable but ultimately timely split of The Replacements in 1991 (played out on live television during an extraordinary concert in which each of the band members, one by one, left the stage to be replaced by their respective roadie) was a result of personal disputes, rather than the artistic differences (and drugs, lots of drugs) which preceded brother Bob Stinson’s departure five years earlier. Bassist Tommy wanted to write songs. Frontman Paul was adamant that he was the only member capable of writing songs of a high enough standard. Guess who’s opinion won the day?
As it turned out, Westerberg could have afforded more than a little humility. As
Don’t Tell A Soul and
All Shook Up creaked along on little more than the charisma of one of the most naturally gifted frontmen of a decade that pretty much bled great frontmen, Stinson was compiling a catalogue of his own material, very much in the vein of the alcohol-fuelled bar rock that had originally inspired the band. After the group split, Tommy formed Bash & Pop with latter Replacements drummer Steve Foley and himself on lead vocals and guitar. They recorded
Friday Night Is Killing Me largely as a two-piece before hiring and firing two incarnations of the band in quick succession, while a third incarnation picked up the moniker Perfect. The group are best known for the inclusion of ‘Makin’ Me Sick’ (incidentally, their crowning achievement) in the movie
Clerks, although it’s only track in their catalogue not to feature on
Friday Night Is Killing Me.
Two things are immediately clear when listening to
Friday Night Is Killing Me. First, Tommy can write one hell of a tune. Second, that “is-it-in-or-out-of-time” sloppy rhythm of The Replacements was most definitely a Stinson family enterprise, though the records after Bob’s departure where suspiciously straight. The influences aren’t difficult to pinpoint. Both The Faces and post-
Stick Fingers Rolling Stones (each featuring guitarist Ron Wood) are heavily imbued in the sound- the first half in particular could be an outtake from a Faces reunion session, while traces of contemporary Replacements-influenced power pop can also be heard via the Gin Blossoms and the Goo Goo Dolls. Tommy’s scratchy, high-pitched voice references Rod Stewart, particularly the slower songs which echo the singer’s early solo career, and- don’t be too surprised- Ron Wood again, while the bluesy slide guitar which supplements ‘Hang Ups’ and ‘Loose Ends’ is vintage Woodie.
As a frontman, Tommy can never escape comparisons to Westerberg and, to be fair, he’s never let the significant overlap between their solo work affect his rhythm. Without the depth or the vocal character Westerberg has accumulated over the years, Stinson relies upon strong songwriting and sharp melodies and, for the most part he succeeds, contrasting overtly poppy moments like ‘Tickled To Tears’ and lead single ‘Loose Ends’ with more the more subtle melodies of ‘Never Aim To Please’ and ‘Tiny Pieces,’ while the on-edge and unpredictable rhythm section makes straightforward pop-punk tracks like ‘Fast & Hard’ more interesting than they’d normally be. The latter in particular is an album highlight, the sole moment of balls-out rock on an album largely neutered by a questionable production performance on the part of Don Smith, whose mixing desk seems to have deserted him on a number of occasions- country ballad (and potential single) ‘Nothing’ is disproportionately mixed to a unsettling degree.
Friday Night Is Killing Me is typical of many sidemen’s side-projects; it sounds uneven, unfinished and suffers from a touch of inexperience in front of a microphone, and inevitably leaves the impression that it would have sounded a whole lot better had the original band recorded it to begin with. The reason for that is plainly clear, but the thought still lingers: if
Friday Night Is Killing Me, Chris Mars’
Horshoes and Hand Grenades and Paul Westerberg’s
14 Songs had been pooled, wouldn’t the results have been an awful lot better?
