21/12/2024
Whoever said “don’t meet your heroes” – didn’t have the good fortune to have Slim Dunlap as a hero. While we were sad to learn of his passing, we’re thoroughly enjoying the many tributes to him. The man was a brilliant songwriter, kind, and so generous. Slim was a mensch.
“Slim took us under his wing as a young band and he was very generous with his time and wisdom. During tough times, he gave us advice and perspective that allowed us to continue our rock n roll band to this day. He even taught us how important it was to play with your kids a decade before any of us became parents. We were blessed to know him, and I rarely use the word blessed.” - Colin Gawel
And here’s a little passage about him, excerpted from Joe’s memoir, HITLESS WONDER.
Yes, the post-Epic year was dark. Watershed lost our record company, our management team, and, as an additional kick in the nuts, our van.
One day Colin called Slim Dunlap from The Replacements, hoping ol’ Slim could give us a little perspective. We had opened for Slim’s solo band a few times, and he’d seen us in Minneapolis once or twice. The first night we met him, he crawled beneath our van to inspect the undercarriage. “Looks like you could use some new suspension leaves down there, ya know,” he said, accenting the Minnesota “O.” Then he brushed himself off and gave us a lesson on why musicians should never clean out their ears. “Wax is nature’s earplug,” he said. We’d been seeking him out for advice ever since.
Slim told Colin the trick was to look down the ladder at all the bands below, bands who would gladly trade places with you. Take stock in how far you’ve come, in what you’ve left behind. Trouble is, Slim said, most bands only worry about who is higher on the rungs than them. “I remember when The Replacements did that tour with Tom Petty,” Slim said. “One of the biggest there is, and even he’s unhappy. ’Cause he’s not as high up as, I don’t know, The Beatles.”
A few years after that phone call, Slim joined Watershed on stage at Comfest, an outdoor festival in Columbus. In front of a crowd of thousands we rocked though “Battleship Chains” by the Georgia Satellites and “King and Queen” from Slim’s tragically overlooked album The Old New Me. Between songs Slim took the mic, and announced to the audience, “These boys here once asked me what it takes to make it.” He looked across the stage at Colin and me. “Looks like they figured it out.”
And that’s the thing about rock and roll. It beats you down and beats you down, and just when you’re curled in the fetal position, bracing for a kick to the head, it offers you a hand. Pulls you to your feet. Gives you a reason to keep going.
Many thanks to Slim Dunlap for being the hand that pulled us to our feet.
PS. In case you were wondering, according to Slim, the true home of rock and roll is not Detroit or Memphis or Minneapolis. It’s Dickinson, ND—and all the other places where folks are just uncool enough (and starved for rock and roll enough) to appreciate it.
