Paul Westerberg

Unsatisfied to Hands Together

I’m not sure whether Westerberg’s songwriting gets fogged out a bit by the context of his music career. For me, I embrace the poignant feeling that coexists quite effortlessly with the raw, unvarnished and achingly emotional creations he has been able to usher into the world. 

There may be a yin/yang type of quality here since he’s known as a rocker/punk/iconoclast, But he is also a poet, an isolate, an elegant songwriter, and of course, a bit of a mystery. To be honest, I don’t want gory details, unless lucky enough to hear it first hand. His music gave me an experience and feeling quite different from other artists. I don’t think he didn’t give a fuck. Clearly, this is someone who is aware, sensitive, defiant, oppositional, defended and most likely requiring something to help him calm down. Songwriting and anxiety and depression and substance use may go hand in hand but that doesn’t make it easy to understand a person nor does it define an individual’s offerings. But I think this vulnerability combined with amazing crash and burn rock n’ roll made us all kind of fall in love with the music and by proxy, the maker. And the mystery, the Greta Garbo aspect, makes it much more interesting. Thank god he isn’t doing interviews and podcasts and what have you. His restraint may be characterological, but if so, we all need a bit of what he has. 

Juliana Hatfield appears to have drawn him out of the shadows, and their album together is for me, a real gift. I started using A tunings after that record. I found the partnership in rock and the ballads, really beautiful. The production growls with contempt at correctness and says (and proves) clearly, this is damned good enough. And it is. Actually I’d say it is kind of the best. 

I know Don Was, who was a great producer on his album “Suicaine” , will find however A/B-ing that version of Born for Me and the I Don’t Cares version, as a gut punch of not reading the song as the artist did or being slightly strong armed by a label.

Hearing Paul and Juliana’s version is what it was meant to be. The evidence is clear. I’m sure he would not disagree. 

However, that might have been one of the only missteps on that amazing album. Don knew he could stand to the side here and let Paul play and sing some of his best songs. Tears Rolling up My Sleeves, Best Thing that Never Happened, Bookmark. And Born for Me, just not that version. Helping to make probably the best Westerberg solo recording is a testament to the fact that he’s a great producer. And sometimes that means doing less than more. 

My title here is Unsatisfied to Hands Together – because the two songs are bookends (at least for now) for appreciating the full spectrum of Westerberg’s songwriting and performances and clearly, two that for whatever reason, speak to me.

An old friend who is now no longer alive played Unsatisfied on his “boom box” as we called them back in 1984, as we drank beer and made merry. It was unlike anything I”d heard before. I kept saying “play it again”. And After five or six times he wandered away. But that was one of those memorable moments where my music world shifted. 

We all have them – I don’t know that it’s more earth shattering for someone who tries to play music or just listens. But unbeknownst to the artist, if you are like me, we become allies, brethren. We are from the same clan. When truly on board, it’s kind of ride or die. And it’s powerful, potentially delusional, but I think most can understand and appreciate that they are in a love affair with the music, and maybe with their own self as reflected through the maker. When inner emotions are touched and when the connection somehow sparks to life an unexpected and excited response, it is a great thing. We all know it.

My list of “clan” members has grown over the years, but the first cuts when you are young appear to be particularly memorable and dramatic. 

However,  Phoebe Bridger’s song Scott Street, will bring an onslaught of emotion and tears to this 60+ dude during the outro maybe  90% of the time. So much of the music that I’m naturally drawn to now later in life hits probably just as hard,  but I no longer have the fresh neurons of a 17 year old. Though, if I work at it, listen more, I am always humbled by the talent and passion and innovation that exists. Music not only didn’t stop being good, it evolved and became something new, like the fractals in nature, it seems no different. No one ever criticized a tree for how it was growing – or if someone did, they were an asshole.

Maybe some can’t let go of their past loves or obsessions to allow new ones to inhabit their life. Though I carry the burden of a predilection for 3-4 major chords and one or two minor ones, I’m always excited when I can jump my harmonic fence and sample something else. 

But I’ll still hold a candle for Paul. 

In “Hands Together” he sings, 

“ Dreams I had before, are too bored to even show up. And the blankets are embarrassed – it’s only me that they cover up. “

Be it in youthful disaffection or in one stop past middle age reverie – songs close to 40 years apart- he just fucking nails it. 

For me he’s not an icon or hero or a legend. He’s a songwriter that did something unique, raw and real and emotional. Someone so innately in touch with something that he doesn’t need to revise, retake, ruminate or explain. Take it or leave it. 

He is not precious but can’t help being a diamond in the rough that catches the light and needs little else.