Westerberg tried writing more songs for the last version of the Replacements, but it didn’t gel.
There hasn’t been a proper solo record from him since 2004’s "Folker," or even much music at all since he released a series of one-offs and digital EPs in 20.
“She brought a lot of this to life that otherwise would have sat in the basement and rotted,” Westerberg tells Wolf.
While modern technology is freeing to an artist, allowing them to work at their own speed without the costs or restrictions of a recording studio, it’s also easy to get caught up in a feedback loop, both positive and negative or just neutral, in Westerberg’s case; he confesses to Wolf in the Vanyaland interview that “You don’t know your good stuff after a while,” or even what’s on some of the tapes.
Westerberg insists in the Vanyaland interview that his guideline for the production was that he was looking for the goosebump moment, and the songs still do deliver because they’re good songs--but they could absolutely sound just a little better without losing the roughness and immediacy of the production.
“All the little people can go to hell” is the key line from the track that follows, “Little People.” And then the next track, “Whole Lotta Nothin’” signs and seals the sentiment of this three-pack.Some songs are good; some songs are great; and there are only a few that probably should have been left as outtakes.There are hooks and riffs and clever turns of phrase; there are bold declarations, and much quieter ones. But his "In the Mix" column in the Weekend section ventures further afield, into books, movies, TV, the Internet, graphic novels and anything you might call "popular culture." Once upon a time, Juliana Hatfield and Evan Dando were the it girl and boy of what used to be called "alt" and later became "indie" rock.It was the early '90s, and after leaving the Blake Babies behind, Hatfield seemed marked for great things with 1993's .