Child: The Replacement's Kids Don't Follow

Purchase The Replacements, Kids Don’t Follow

 Kids Don’t Follow is the first track off the Replacement’s first release, the EP Stink.  It’s a bold statement from a band that would go on to make many statements. The Replacements are a band that took on a far greater prominence than the drunken shenanigans of Stink would promise.  But, then, this is the Replacements and their influence, lazy ambition, sneaking brilliance, and pure, astounding genius and capacity to bring the shock and awe (or one good dose of thunder) made them one of the greatest bands ever to never really make it. Starting with Stink, and hopping along like an exposed electric wire for a total of 6 more albums and a few lifetimes of madness, what the ‘Mats did for music is almost immeasurable. Even if they would deny it. Then or now. Which they do.

I like to talk a lot about firsts in music. First tracks, first times a song was played, first time one heard a band, what must it have been like to see a legend in the making when they first started out. Kids Don’t Follow is another first, an opening shot of punk muscle that would start a career that would morph and go in unexpected directions, but never lose that ‘fuck you’ attitude that in retrospect was so essential.

One of the best parts of Kids Don’t Follow is the opening recording of a party being broken up by the Minneapolis Police. Amid the ambient noise comes out a clear, angry, “Hey fuck you, man!” to the otherwise kindly, Barney Fife-kind of sounding cop politely asking everyone to please disperse. It’s such a visual moment. Supposedly it was recorded at First Avenue. Supposedly, the kid who yells the expletive is Soul Asylum’s Dave Priner. Supposedly the cop was Danny Murphy’s father. Supposedly, the Replacements put their original demos in the river and set them adrift, hoping Prince would discover them, ala the infant Moses in the Nile in a reed basket…There are a lot of what ifs with a band like The ‘Mats. And a lot of could have been...But what they left behind is like a great promise that might still come true.

...The Replacements, one of rock’s closest near-miracles...Kids Don’t Follow. A song like this makes sure they never will… 

Child: The Who, The Kids Are Alright

 

Purchase The Who, My Generation

From their first album, and though it wasn’t a hit when it came out, it is now a title that has become ubiquitous with the band. They are the kids. Were the kids. But, if you love them, they still are the kids. The original punks, angry, playful, bombastic. Revolutionaries in stripes and sneakers, dippity-doed hair, mod before mod was a thing.

Who? The Who.

The Kids are Alright set a great standard. The standard for rock greatness. Greatness was Keith Moon’s frenzied, nuclear motored drumming. It is still the greatest drumming I’ve ever heard. Townshed’s spectrum spanning guitar, crunching, driving, melodic, a full on range of sound from a mere six strings.  He wielded chords with an orchestral strength. Daltry sang like he had a brass pair. Entwistle rolled thunder like a Greek god.

1965. They looked so clean cut, so reserved. Yet in this amazing song one finds their personas of greatness, rock gods in waiting, like Clark Kent behind his glasses - almost there, bursting at the seams to do what they were destined to do. There are two versions, but the UK album version has a glorious instrumental break that personifies Townshed’s ability to spin melodic gold.  

The original promo video was filmed in Hyde park at the water’s edge, while holiday makers rowed past. A number of them have stopped to watch the band play, unamplified and lip-synching to a pre-recorded track. Moon is his usual self—a ball of energy, barely able to stay in his seat. Entwistle is straight knife-fight nonchalant, playing his bass with fingers the defied the limits of the bones under the skin. Townshed is reserved, but breaks into a genuine smile, a goofy grin that is unmistakable joy, then he throws in his classic windmill, forever changing the way we would all play guitar thereafter. Daltry is sullen, looking away from the camera rather than giving any of himself to it. He looks off to the side, this way and that—later you see all the girls that had gathered just the side of the band, and the boys on their bikes.  Do you think they knew what they were watching? The very evolution of rock ‘n roll…the kids were definitely alright.

The song is still as fresh as it was in 1965, still packs the same raw, punchy joyous power. It’s a retrospective on youth now, but the song itself is still young, still invokes and evokes the joyousness of abandon and the joy of not knowing any better and not needing to. T

he assured swagger that comes with knowing everything will be fine.

In 2000, at the Royal Albert Hall, they extended the song, and Townsend took the opportunity to sing a new interlude:

"When I wrote this song I was nothing but a kid, trying to work out right and wrong through all the things I did. I was kind of practicing with my life. I was kind of taking chances in a marriage with my wife. I took some stuff and I drank some booze. There was almost nothing that I didn't try to use. And somehow I'm alright."

 

… the kids are definitely alright, still.