I was riding the lift in Blue Sky Basin checking my phone. Something weird is happening in that I hear the ding when I get a new e-mail, but it doesn't show up on the home screen. Maybe I'll call Apple at some point, but it's such a hassle to have to deal with the low level tech before they kick you upstairs. They ask if your device is plugged-in/charged, did you reboot, there should be a separate line for those who are tech-savvy.
Of course I researched the problem online. There's a plethora of information there. And usually when I end up calling Apple it turns out to be a bug. But I like to have everything work perfectly, I'm trying to let go of that.
So it was sunny enough to leave my hand out of my mitten and scroll. I was reading the story in the "Wall Street Journal" about the cover-up of Biden's cognitive abilities, and then about Elon Musk's blowing up of the budget deal, and after cruising the WSJ, the WaPo and the NYT, I went to the LAT, the "Los Angeles Times," which Mark McGrath quipped to me back in 2015 was a pamphlet, and now it's even worse, the app doesn't even lead with the big news but some trivial thing that the paper is promoting, if the LAT is your sole source of info you're missing out on so much.
But as I scrolled down the page I saw that Slim Dunlap died. You know, the last guitarist of the Replacements. You don't know?
The hype finally got to me and I bought "Don't Tell a Soul." I couldn't understand it. Then again, it was about the earlier albums, "Let It Be" and "Tim." This was a different era, you couldn't hear about a band and check out their tunes instantly, you had to buy it to hear it, and sometimes you got burned with critics' darlings.
I know, I know, you love the Mats. They're loose and drunk and... Maybe I'll still get it, there's time, but it hasn't happened yet.
But in 1993, Kevin Sutter sent Slim Dunlap's first solo album to me and insisted I listen to it. He used to call once a week. I was starved for interaction, I was broke, I couldn't go places.
Kevin was an independent promotion person. He'd made the rounds at the labels and this was the last stop. You worked relationships to find indie artists who would pay you and you worked them to stations oftentimes to no results. It wasn't radically different from today, if you're nostalgic for this era you're delusional. Then again, back then the barrier to entry was so much higher, if you actually had a CD you probably were pretty good, had some talent, otherwise it was too expensive.
So I put on Slim Dunlap's album "The Old New Me"...
And thirty years later I'm reading the obit in the LAT, which is quite extensive and good. It's just not the facts.
I learned that Slim had been a cab driver, and a janitor at First Avenue.
And that Bruce Springsteen and Steve Earle loved his albums.
HUH? I'd never heard that, but I subsequently did research and found out this was true, the Boss went on record in the new millennium. Then again, the Boss's endorsement never could make a star out of Joe Grushecky. I actually bought the Iron City Houserockers' album "Have a Good Time but Get Out Alive!" I won't say I was the only one, but despite the positive reviews that had me laying down my cash, that album made no impact.
So Jeff Laufer had worked with Kevin, and Joe Reichling was working with Jeff over at a Capitol label and they called me not long after I'd gotten into that Slim Dunlap album and I was raving and told them I was going to play the opening cut over the phone. You know, you cranked your stereo, but...
The dynamics were such that they couldn't hear the music! I'd laid the receiver in front of one of the JBLs, figuring they were digging it, and when I picked up the receiver they were laughing at me.
So went turning people on to "The Old New Me."
But thinking about this, riding the Orient Express, I decided to pull up Spotify and listen to the album, if they even had it. But they did!
I pressed play and...
The music sounded small.
I was listening via earbuds. And it's just not like listening through a big rig, with all that power, enveloping the room. That's how rock needs to be played, not so loud that your ears hurt, but loud enough that it envelops you and demands attention.
And that's when I thought about writing this, as I was listening to the music and the memories were pouring through my brain.
And there was something wrong with the lift. It kept stopping and starting. So I had time to let the album play out and to check the Google News for more Slim Dunlap information.
I was stunned how much there was! Most people quoted Minnesota's "Star Tribune," but for someone whose footprint was so small, the attention was outsized.
And this guy was full of quotes, Slim, about being a musician.
That's what he was, a working musician. He played what was required, it wasn't always rock, sometimes it was bluegrass.
And he talked about the long odds of making it.
And obviously he wasn't rolling in dough, although he was married and had a few kids.
But in 2012 Slim had a stroke. I knew that. These acts that you follow, you always think they're capable of coming back, at least you hope so. You want to hear the new music, maybe they've got one good fastball left. But after a stroke...
Slim could no longer play.
And now he's dead.
And I'm contemplating all this as Spotify slips into the third cut from "The Old New Me," "...Isn't It." I KNOW THIS SONG!
I hadn't listened to it in decades, but as it streamed I remembered playing it, I realized I'd played the album multiple times. And thought about Dunlap, wondering how he survived.
Well, he lived for thirty years after that initial solo album. He actually made one more in 1996, then crickets. I mean who wanted to fund a solo album by a guy who'd been in the final edition of a band that never really had commercial success?
And there are so many of these people who've stopped making music, yet are still alive.
I've heard from many, like Jon Pousette-Dart, but what is Andy Pratt up to? But didn't he come from a wealthy family? At least that was the rumor.
But the truth is...
If they didn't die young from misadventure, many of these musicians are still alive. Most saw the handwriting on the wall and got day jobs. We used to respect musicians, they escaped the grind, they didn't have to work day jobs. But now the musicians are in thrall to the billionaires, they want to be brands, it's just not the same religious experience, the same belief.
But no one was hiring Slim Dunlap for a private. No one would buy his perfume. He'd be lucky if people bought a t-shirt.
And now he's gone.
That's the life of a rocker, a musician. Fame is nice, but it's really about the playing.
At least it used to be.
"The Old New Me" on Spotify: t.ly/0KEna
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