If Peter Jesperson ever found himself filling out paperwork for unemployment benefits, he might need a few extra pages to fully document “previous positions.”
He’s been a record store clerk and manager, a club and radio DJ, club booker, Twin/Tone record label co-founder, A&R man, VP for New West Records, talent scout and both music journalist and record producer.
He was also briefly a road manager for R.E.M. and put out the first records by Soul Asylum, Babes in Toyland and the Jayhawks. And—most famously—the discoverer, caretaker, friend (sometimes foe) and manager of the combustible, chaotic Replacements.
And through it all, he’s never lost his joy and quest in finding, appreciating, and capturing great music. He’s currently jazzed about a California group called Gold Star, led by Marlon Rabenreither.
Now, Jesperson has put his journey to paper in the memoir Euphoric Recall: A Half Century as a Music Fan, Producer, DJ, Record Executive, and Tastemaker ($29.95, 310 pp., Minnesota Historical Society Press). He will be in conversation with this writer and sign books on Saturday, March 16 at Cactus Music.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve been to Cactus, but it’s such a great store. And of course, I come from record store culture,” Jesperson says via Zoom from his home, with hundreds of vinyl records, CDs and books stacked behind him.
As Jesperson recounts, he was bitten by the music bug early on with the folk boom and British Invasion acts. He soon began to amass a significant amount of vinyl for a teenager, locked in his room and listening for hours. So much that it resulted in a slight rebuke from his mother.
“You’ve taken something that was meant to be a hobby and blown it all out of proportion!” he writes that she said. And it has stuck with him all these years.
“I can still picture her saying that to me in the kitchen of our house in Minnetonka, Minnesota,” he laughs. “And it struck me funny. I understood what she was saying, but I 150% disagreed!”
Euphoric Recall lists many area groups that Jesperson either liked or dealt with. As to what made Minneapolis bands (and not those associated with a certain Purple Majesty) different like the Suburbs, Suicide Commandos and the Wallets, he has his thoughts.
“Minneapolis has always been an arts town and supportive of the arts. One of the things I’ve been proudest of in my hometown is that the [music community] was willing to take chances and embrace all kinds of sounds,” he offers. “They always say that six months out of the year, it’s too cold to go outside in Minneapolis. So, all these bands were just woodshedding in their basements. It’s a fun theory, and true to some extent!”
He adds that his partners at Twin/Tone (Charley Hallman and Paul Stark) used to joke amongst themselves that they didn’t so much form the label, but that it was forced into existence by the sheer amount of talented bands and performers in town.
Jesperson is most closely associated with the Replacements, stretching back to a fateful day in May 1980 when he was approached while on the job at Minneapolis record store Oar Folkjokeopus by the fledging group’s singer, rhythm guitarist, and main songwriter.
And when one Paul Westerberg handed Jesperson a beat-up demo cassette with four songs, both of their lives changed forever. The music blew Jesperson away, and he immediately began figuring out how to record the group on Twin/Tone.
Later Westerberg—who was mainly looking to see if Jesperson could book the band at a local venue—reacted with surprise: “You mean you think this shit is worth recording?”
Twin/Tone would put out the band’s first four albums: Sorry, Ma I Forgot to Take Out the Trash, the EP Stink, Hootenanny and Let it Be. Westerberg’s songwriting showed amazing development and improvement from the early purer punk sounds, and Jesperson became their champion, sounding board, and manager.
But there were many, many times Jesperson had to act more like a den mother, corralling their bad behavior, self-sabotage, and heavy, heavy drinking. In addition to Westerberg, the original lineup included lead guitarist Bob Stinson, his brother Tommy (only 13 when the band started) on bass, and Chris Mars on drums.
Later, when Bob Stinson’s substance abuse and drinking got him kicked out of the band he started (he was also unhappy with the band’s new musical directions), Slim Dunlap was added in his place. Stinson would die in 1995 of organ failure at the age of 35.
“That part about self-sabotage is absolutely true, and they’re well known for it,” Jesperson says. The Replacements would routinely blow off those who could advance their career, put on drunken, shambolic shows, and generally burn bridges even before the cement dried on the bricks
“I know lots of people who loved the records but said ‘I’ve seen the Replacements 30 times and they’ve never put on a good show!’” he says. “The Replacements could not just play the game or take the business part seriously, even though they took their music seriously. And as manager, I was often caught holding the bag for their shenanigans.”
By contrast, he remembers his brief time with R.E.M. with nothing but fondness, with polite behavior from band members and no drama.
Still, Jesperson says that if there was ever a “magic moment” in his life, it was when he first put his fingers on that demo cassette. And he heard something in those songs that, at the time, hardly anyone else did.
“I’m not a religious person and I don’t believe in fate, but it was a momentous occasion. It was the luckiest moment I’ve ever had in my career. No question about it.”
Euphoric Recall continues as Jesperson finds various roles in the industry and with different companies, including New West Records. He writes that the title of the book comes from a term that a rehab counselor said to him after he sought treatment for a crippling alcohol addiction.
After one too many stories he shared in group therapy that seemed to cast his drug and alcohol experiences as not so bad, the angry counselor grabbed him and exclaimed “You exhibited euphoric recall!” Or, in recovery jargon, that’s remembering past negative experiences in a positive light. But despite that, Jesperson just this month celebrated 33 years since taking his last drink of alcohol.
“The acceleration in my drinking was just in the excitement of working with a band that had the talent to really leave their mark on music in a broad sense,” he says.
“At first, we just had so much fun, and the drinking added to that. And we were on the road with so much downtime. And we drank to kill time. But then audiences and music writers were reacting and labels came knocking and we thought we had something. I’m still shocked it took us four albums to get to a major label!”
Finally, Houston appears in the book twice. First during a 1984 show at Fitzgerald’s and then the next year during a gig at the University of Houston’s Lawndale Art Annex that became a debacle and part of Replacements lore.
The band’s rider had called for a certain amount of alcohol. It was all delivered to the band’s dressing room hours before they were scheduled to follow opener Alex Chilton (later the subject of a song). Bad move.
“I sensed trouble there. I had to take Alex to the hotel so he could get a room. And he was taking his sweet Southern time. He even shaved! When we got back, all hell had broken loose, and the band was kind of hiding from me,” Jesperson recalls.
The Replacements had already busted out all the lights in their dressing room. The whiskey and vodka were mostly gone. Full bottles of Heineken had been thrown like darts into the wall, still sticking out. A loaded Westerberg and Tommy Stinson took in the Chilton set sitting in a kiddie pool they had commandeered and continuing to drink. Then it came time for their show.
“They weren’t doing any of their own songs and falling down drunk. The promoter came up to me at the soundboard and said ‘Peter, people are asking for their money back. Everyone here. You gotta get them offstage!’” he recalls.
Jesperson shut off the PA system and turned on the lights. But the Replacements just kept playing. The promoter then called police, who proceeded to come onstage and physically remove the guitars and drumsticks from the band members’ hands.
“It was something you look back on now and it was kind of funny,” Jesperson says. “But when it was happening, it was horrifying!”
Peter Jesperson will be in conversation and sign books at 3 p.m. on Saturday, March 16, at Cactus Music, 2110 Portsmouth. For information, call 713-526-9272 or visit CactusMusicTX.com. Free.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2024.
