In 1988, Metallica was still in search of a follow-up hit to “Master of Puppets,” which had cracked the top 40 a few years earlier. James Hetfield had an idea about a song from the point of view of a soldier who had been so badly mutilated in battle that he was praying for death.
Intriguing concept, but hardly the subject matter of a hit song. They recorded it anyway for their …And Justice for All album. The song, “One,” became the band’s second top 40 Billboard hit.
Maybe even more interesting than the success of the song was the success of the accompanying music video. Directed by acclaimed cinematographer Bill Pope and Michael Salomon, the B&W video would go down as one of the greatest in the MTV era. To date, it has been viewed hundreds of millions of times.
What makes it especially interesting is that less than two years earlier, MTV had deemed a video for a song about teen suicide inappropriate subject matter for their channel and refused to screen it. And so it was that the mercurial, troubled, and often brilliant band the Replacements missed out on what was probably their final chance at mainstream success.
“The Ledge:” The video MTV refused to air
Paul Westerberg wrote “The Ledge” for the Replacement’s 1987 album Pleased to Meet Me. It was a crucial moment in the Minneapolis quartet’s career. Coming off several critically acclaimed but commercially bland albums, they were gunning for a hit that would introduce their particular brand of evolved post-punk to a general audience.
The mid-‘80s had been pointing the Mats (as they were commonly known) in this direction. They signed with Sire Records and went into partnership with Warner Brothers. They fired their de facto manager Peter Jesperson in pursuit of more professional promotion. Most tellingly, they fired band founder and lead guitarist Bob Stinson.
Stinson, whose step-brother Tommy played bass, had become an unreliable and problematic figure by 1986. His general lack of interest in rock & roll success, coupled with serious mental health and substance abuse problems, drove a wedge between him and his three bandmates.
Bob also had little interest in the kind of moody, introspective, finely crafted songs that Westerberg was now writing. He just wanted to play loud, fast rock and roll.
The Mats recorded Pleased to Meet Me in Memphis as a newly-minted trio with help from producer Jim Dickinson and assorted guest players. For the song “The Ledge,” it was the normal lineup of Westerberg on guitar and vocals, Tommy Stinson on bass and Chris Mars on drums. Wrecking Crew sax man Steve Douglas added a haunting bass flute.
“Haunting” was a good word for the song. By this point, Westerberg had evolved from writing thrashing screamers and silly putdown tracks and had begun crafting some of hardcore’s most evocative and sensitive numbers.
That was one of the issues that separated Bob Stinson from the band he helped create. But it was also one of the reason critics and executives alike thought the Mats were on the verge of superstardom.
Pleased to Meet Me had several tracks that might make for a good lead single. “Alex Chilton,” named for one of their idols, had all the pop rock bounce of Chilton’s band Big Star along with the infectious jangle that the Gin Blossoms would sell big five years later.
“Can’t Hardly Wait” was eminently hummable power pop featuring the kind of horns that the Mighty Mighty Bosstones would ride to major success ten years later with “The Impression That I Get.”
Both those songs would be released as singles, but they weren’t chosen as the lead. That honor went to “The Ledge.”
“All eyes look up to me
High above the filthy streets
Heed no bullhorn when it calls
Watch me fly and die
Watch me fall”
Westerberg begins his tale of a jumper over an urgent, wailing guitar pattern that recalls a siren arriving on the scene.
“I’m the boy they can’t ignore
For the first time in my life, I’m sure”
With that simple couplet, Westerberg dives deep into the psyche of a nameless adolescent who is enjoying his one brief moment of meaning. He basks in the attention for a moment.
Then he jumps.
The song is harrowing. Just as harrowing as Metallica’s “One” in its own lower case. And it says something genuinely meaningful – that maybe we had better begin paying some attention to all these forgotten kids before they demand our attention in destructive ways.
The Mats, who were famous for not making videos, made a video. That’s how much they wanted to finally break through. Warner Brothers sent it to MTV to show the world.
MTV rejected it. Not due to bad words or naked body parts, as was the typical reason for rejection. They rejected it because they were concerned about its subject matter. Ritualized teen suicides were a small but sensational trend at that time and MTV didn’t want any part of it.
The song, like most of Westerberg’s output, was neutral. It neither condemned nor glorified the subject. Could it have led to copycat suicide attempts? Maybe. Could it have prevented them by bringing the subject matter into the open. Maybe? We’re never going to know.
What we do know is that without video support, “The Ledge” was pulled and “Alex Chilton” was rushed into release without any proper buildup or support. It sputtered along. The Mats had missed their window.
It’s not likely that the Replacements were ever going to be a huge mainstream act. Not because of their music, which was excellent. Because of their attitude. Westerberg and company were a sensational band, but they were also boorish, immature and unprofessional performers.
Often, they were downright cruel. They were raging alcoholics who leaned into their vices even harder when advised to slow it down. They ruined radio promotions and publicity events. They trashed venues just for fun. They even got themselves banned for life from Saturday Night Live.
Maybe they didn’t deserve success. But “The Ledge” should have been heard by more people. It was Nirvana five years ahead of schedule. It was emo and grunge and punk and goth all at their best. It was certainly a lot more compelling than the Verve Pipe’s “Freshmen,” which was one of the Billboard’s top songs and MTV’s top videos a decade later.
That song was also about suicide. Almost thirty years later, “The Freshmen” still has its sing-along charm and a Lifetime Channel sentimentality.
But give a listen to “The Ledge” if you haven't heard it – or if it has been a long time since you last did. You won’t want to sing along, nor will you feel sentimental. It will hit you much harder than that. It’s a shame more people didn’t get a chance to feel that back in 1987 when a song about suicide just might have saved the life of one of America’s most inventive rock bands.