Aquela vez que os Replacements tocaram um blues “proibido” no rádio

Após o lançamento do disco Please to Meet Me, os Replacements participaram de alguns programas de rádio para promover o álbum. Como virou rotina, isso nem sempre terminou muito bem com a trupe de Paul Westerberg. No trecho abaixo do livro “Trouble Boys: The True Story of the Replacements”, o escritor Bob Mehr conta um episódio muito engraçado dessa época.

A few weeks later, the Replacements stopped by Providence’s WBRU. Program director Kurt Hirsch, a longtime supporter, interviewed them during drive time, in advance of their show in town that night.

It didn’t take long for Hirsch to get nervous. “[Westerberg] wasn’t making any eye contact,” said Hirsch. “He was looking everywhere but at me.”

Hirsch gamely tried to keep the segment moving. “We have some tickets to give away to your show tonight,” he said. “What should we make people do to win this?”

“How about a little phone sex,” offered Westerberg. “We’ll be the judges.”

Hirsch continued to serve as a straight man for the band’s zingers, while dutifully playing tracks off Please to Meet Me.

“Damn,” said bemused Stinson, “you’re too nice for us. What is this crap?”

“Ooh, that’s one of the seven words,” said Hirsch, cutting him off. “No one heard that. If you heard that weren’t supposed to…”

“The big C-word?” asked Stinson.

“Cause the FCC doesn’t like that – they’re getting down on all the…”

“Crap?” repeated Stinson.

“Don’t say it again. This is…this is very bad. I gotta get them out of here…The Replacements, thanks for coming by, but you’re gonna get me in big trouble with the FCC because you said that word over the air.”

“That’s not a bad word,” muttered Stinson.

“Just forget it – which song are we playing” said Hirsch. “Nightclub Jitters. Anything to say about it?”

Westerberg finally looked Hirsch square in the eye as he leaned into the microphone. “It’s a motherfucker.”

“Oh gee, good-bye,” said Hirsch. “They’re gone.”

As the song cued up, the deejay was laughing nervously on the air. But the band, and its Warner reps, recalled being tossed onto the streets in record time.

By the time the ‘Mats arrived in Chicago for an appearance on WXRT, they were coming up with more creative ways to offend. The station had actually been on board as far back as “I Will Dare” and was pledging to support “The Ledge.” More importantly, WXRT was a bellwether: if it added to a song to the playlist, smaller stations throughout the Midwest frequently followed suit.

Johnny Mars, host of the station’s Big Beat evening show, was another avowed fan. “I knew they were drinkers, so I bought a six-pack of Heineken and gave it to them,” said Mars. “But they came in toting bottles of champagne.”

The interviewed went smoothly until the first commercial break, when Westerberg began riffling through the station’s library of blues LPs. His eyes lit up when he came across Sonny Boy Williamson’s Bummer Road. He excitedly nudged Tommy. Mars asked him if there was anything they wanted to hear. Westerberg requested “Little Village.”

On the LP was a big note: “Do not under any circumstances play ‘Little Village.’”

Mars tried to distract the band, but Westerberg began answering everything with: “If we can’t play ‘Little Village’, then I can’t answer that.” Soon the rest of the band was badgering the deejay to play it.

Finally, he relented: “So tell me about this Sonny Boy Williamson song you want to hear so badly.”

“This is the problem we have when we’re recording,” said Westerberg. “The engineer doesn’t understand the artist. And Sonny handles it beautifully, I think.”

“Well,” said Mars, “I think that’s as good an introduction as we’ll ever get, so let’s hear it.”

Recorded in September 1957, “Little Village” was a legendary studio outtake that captured a spirited, half-joking argument between Sonny Boy and engineer Leonard Chess that contained two “motherfuckers,” two “son of a bitches,” and a “goddamn” in the first few seconds alone. Mars’s face flushed, but he played the track to completion.

“That’s…I guess…what could happen in a recording studio…is…is that how you guys record?” waffled Mars.

“That has more to do with the Replacements than anything I’ve ever heard in my life,” cackled Westerberg.

After the show, Mars and music director Lin Brehmer took the band for drinks at nearby Bucket O’ Suds, where the ´Mats insulted the bartender and embarrassed the WXRT staff. The following day, Brehmer sent a scathing missive to the radio industry newsletter Friday Morning Quarterback, lambasting the group for its behavior and for putting the station’s license at risk. “I just unloaded,” said Brehmer. "I didn’t hold back.”

A week later, every program director in America knew the Replacements’ name. It wasn’t the kind of recognition any band would’ve wished for.