Paul Westerberg and I became friends when I was 16. I’d like to say we met in Reptilian Records or Record and Tape Traders, but we met in a Best Buy. I found a copy of Let it Be haphazardly placed in the wrong section. I’d never heard of The Replacements, but I was intrigued by the cover. They were wearing plaid flannel and beat-up Converse, my uniform at the time. The photo wasn’t contrived or airbrushed, just four guys hanging out on a roof. I didn’t know anything about this band, but they used a Beatles title. The Beatles were sacred cows in my home, in most homes. This took balls. I bought the record without reading a single word of critical praise, without a single, without a music video. I’m proud of that.
When I pressed play, I saw myself. Paul Westerberg was not a rock hero bragging about his conquests. He was awkward, unsure, nervous, neurotic, pained, exhilarated, horny, thoughtful, alienated, introspective, romantic, self-absorbed, bored, passionate, and fucked up. So was I. So is every 16 year old boy.
I remember hearing “Unsatisfied” for the first time. When the song faded out, I played it again. I must have played it 50 times in a row. My dad banged on the door and told me to play a different song. I played “Unsatisfied” again. It was the first time I listened to a song and said “This guy knows exactly how I feel.”
No other songwriter has captured adolescence as perfectly as Paul Westerberg did on Let it Be. Most songwriters focus on the angst and alienation, forgetting about the other emotions. Westerberg wrote about them all. “Sixteen Blue,” “Unsatisfied,” and “Answering Machine” get the most attention, but what about the nervous optimism of “I Will Dare”, or the dumb bravado of “We’re Coming Out?” If Let it Be was focused solely on the angst, it would be a Staind record. Kids would eventually grow out of it. Westerberg’s willingness to explore the sweet sides of teenage life gave Let it Be depth. If “Favorite Thing” wasn’t there to balance “Unsatisfied,” it wouldn’t sound as authentic.
Critics of Let it Be claim that it is an uneven record. They say that “Gary’s Got a Boner,” “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out,” and the cover of KISS’ “Black Diamond” detract from the album’s power. Let it Be is an uneven record, but adolescence is uneven too. For every poignant moment, there are five stupid ones.
On the surface, Let it Be seems like relic from high school, the kind of record that you grow out of when you grow up. On the contrary, it still feels fresh. I think it’s because it’s a record without any pretension. Westerberg has a lot to say, but he never set out to be the voice of a generation. The Mats just went into the studio and happened to make an iconic record. If they had planned to make a Big Artistic Statement, it could have been a disaster. Instead, they just made a record and put it out. They probably got drunk afterwards.
Let it Be is one of the best records of the 1980s, yet most people haven’t heard it. Maybe people are turned off by the title, or maybe the Mats have completely fallen off the radar.
If you are a teenager, buy a copy of Let it Be. Paul Westerberg is a great listener.