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Paul Westerberg spent most of the 1990s acting like an adult, but in the 1980s, he was a Punk rock Rimbaud, drunkenly channeling a generation's confusion, frustration and glee into ragged anthems and, every so often, surprisingly tender ballads. While R.E.M., Soul Asylum and Husker Du were slowly advancing their careers, the Replacements were careening around wildly, pissing off record execs and cursing on national TV. The band may have been notorious for their tendency to get wasted and screw things up, but they were loved for Westerberg's ability to turn typical college kid angst into something romantic and beautiful. Like the youthful abandon the band drew on and celebrated, the Replacements probably felt so special because there wasn't ever a chance in hell they were going to last.
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