Oh young soul who did not shoot ye romantic wad on the Replacements in the glorious year of no lord 1985, hear me now- this record does not stink of '85, and does not celebrate incompetency or hot chops. My li'l neophypte, Tim is the best greenie entry point, the major league debut that had me blurry and shaken in the giddy days of Newport surf and sun. Tim is the cleanest way to enter the underachieving world of the Replacements, because it's the clearest compromise between their dual aspirations of gutter and arena. This is the anthem record, and the big songs come in many sizes. "Bastards of Young" rides the resentment hinted at in Let It Be and lays it at the feet of the boomers. "Left of the Dial" champions college radio while delivering a wistful love yearning melody, a nearly impossible combo that may be the best pop offering since "I Will Dare." "Here Comes a Regular" is the moody ballad in which Westerberg pretends he's the boy at the factory pub who desperately wants to move on and feel special. For all his later faults, Paulie Whisper did poignancy beautifully in a not-quite-ready-for-prime-time players context. Side 1 is one solid tune after the next delivered in multiple styles. Nothing transcendent, but try not singing along. I hated the record when I first got it because it wasn't punk, but I was wrong as usual. This doesn't have the big highs of other placemat offerings, but it's their most consistent album and the easiest to absorb on first listening. It is also the record I got the most pleasure out of in this middle-aged reconsideration, whatever that means.