Grandpaboy

(Monolyth)
by Nik Rainey

Shhh. Nobody’s supposed to know this, but this is Paul Westerberg’s clandestine attempt at regaining a little of the indie juju he tossed aside when the ‘Mats realized they could buy much more Thunderbird with Sire’s money than Twin/Tone’s. If anything, it proves the old dictum “you can’t go home again” applies just as much when you’re talking ’bout production values. Now that Westy’s older, clean and sober, and not nearly so anguished, he’s settled comfortably into the role of amiable pop-craftsman, pumping out agreeable two and a half minute tunes with familiar structures, wry wordplay, and the occasional touch of parody (the Fogerty-soundalike “Homelessexual”), none bad, none necessary. Looks like this experiment in alter-egotism has taken an unexpected turn – he went shopping for a Robert Pollard but came home with a Nick Lowe.
(www.monolyth.com)