here comes a regular
“Everybody wants to be someone's here
Someone's gonna show up, never fear
'cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?
Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts
First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain't much to rake anyway in the fall.” – The Replacements
I was jumping from track to track this morning while I worked, weaving in and out of albums and artist catalogs as one song reminded me of another and another until I finally settled on listening to The Mats. I’ve always admired the imperfect, raw, lyrical stylings of one Mr. Paul Westerberg. Maybe it’s the Midwestern connection, maybe it’s the familiar visual imagery he paints. Maybe it’s just highly underrated, damn good writing. There are no doubt many songs I could highlight as favorites, ones that I go back to time and again, for the past 20 years. But one in particular still evokes an honest-to-goodness reaction out of me every single time I hear it. Every. Single. Time.
“Here Comes a Regular” isn’t exactly what it seems to be. It’s a forceful wolf in sheep’s clothing. Sure, the obvious meanings come to mind – guy walks into a bar, he’s a regular, other depressed and lonely regulars will always populate the barstools. As much as things change, they stay the same. Like “Cheers”, except without the witty banter. Many find this song unbearably depressing – that image of the lonely drinker in the corner, counting the bartender as his most trusted companion; but I tend to find the tone hopeful - the narrator fully present and conscious in the moment - and reflective.
I’ve always found that this song resonates especially well during transitional times, particularly when I find myself taking note of my own patterns, dissatisfactions and need to effect some change. It’s most like a cautionary tale; using “regular” status to illustrate how some people are meant for greater things but never leave the comfort of all the people and things they know. When Westerberg asks, “Am I the only one who feels ashamed?” it feels more like he’s posing the question, “Are you letting your life/opportunities pass you by out of habit, perhaps out of fear to leave what you know in favor of the unknown, the loss of status, the loss of familiarity?”
All of the references to seasonal changes throughout the entire song, that inability to go back and change your actions (“Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass”) or that knowledge that the world moves on in spite of and despite your activity and inactivity – through winter, spring, summer, and finally to fall. The knowledge that as you sit without effecting a change, the years keep passing you by and you’re left with this notion that you have one less day to live than you had yesterday. It feels like a song about lost opportunities, rigid restrictions that we place on ourselves and fear that all we’ll have left at the end of the day is a static kind of existence where we fail to take advantage of opportunities and changes that come and go, like the seasons.
And that’s my deep thought for the day. Courtesy of Paul Westerberg, who reminds me quite frequently through some rather insightful and simple lyrics, that life is short. You can sit on a stool and let it pass you by, or you can turn your collar up, let the wind blow at your back and move forward into the unfamiliar.
Someone's gonna show up, never fear
'cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?
Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts
First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain't much to rake anyway in the fall.” – The Replacements
I was jumping from track to track this morning while I worked, weaving in and out of albums and artist catalogs as one song reminded me of another and another until I finally settled on listening to The Mats. I’ve always admired the imperfect, raw, lyrical stylings of one Mr. Paul Westerberg. Maybe it’s the Midwestern connection, maybe it’s the familiar visual imagery he paints. Maybe it’s just highly underrated, damn good writing. There are no doubt many songs I could highlight as favorites, ones that I go back to time and again, for the past 20 years. But one in particular still evokes an honest-to-goodness reaction out of me every single time I hear it. Every. Single. Time.
“Here Comes a Regular” isn’t exactly what it seems to be. It’s a forceful wolf in sheep’s clothing. Sure, the obvious meanings come to mind – guy walks into a bar, he’s a regular, other depressed and lonely regulars will always populate the barstools. As much as things change, they stay the same. Like “Cheers”, except without the witty banter. Many find this song unbearably depressing – that image of the lonely drinker in the corner, counting the bartender as his most trusted companion; but I tend to find the tone hopeful - the narrator fully present and conscious in the moment - and reflective.
I’ve always found that this song resonates especially well during transitional times, particularly when I find myself taking note of my own patterns, dissatisfactions and need to effect some change. It’s most like a cautionary tale; using “regular” status to illustrate how some people are meant for greater things but never leave the comfort of all the people and things they know. When Westerberg asks, “Am I the only one who feels ashamed?” it feels more like he’s posing the question, “Are you letting your life/opportunities pass you by out of habit, perhaps out of fear to leave what you know in favor of the unknown, the loss of status, the loss of familiarity?”
All of the references to seasonal changes throughout the entire song, that inability to go back and change your actions (“Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass”) or that knowledge that the world moves on in spite of and despite your activity and inactivity – through winter, spring, summer, and finally to fall. The knowledge that as you sit without effecting a change, the years keep passing you by and you’re left with this notion that you have one less day to live than you had yesterday. It feels like a song about lost opportunities, rigid restrictions that we place on ourselves and fear that all we’ll have left at the end of the day is a static kind of existence where we fail to take advantage of opportunities and changes that come and go, like the seasons.
And that’s my deep thought for the day. Courtesy of Paul Westerberg, who reminds me quite frequently through some rather insightful and simple lyrics, that life is short. You can sit on a stool and let it pass you by, or you can turn your collar up, let the wind blow at your back and move forward into the unfamiliar.
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