Tim is probably a little more hit and miss than other stone cold 'Mats masterpieces like Don't Tell A Soul, Let It Be and Pleased to Meet Me, (I'm not utterly enamoured with either Dose of Thunder of Lay It Down Clown). But those seeking polish and consistency would do well to look elsewhere than the 'Mats entire output. Those, however, seeking idiot savant pop genius, unvarnished emotional truth telling, and rip roaring rock n roll awesomeness should seek out this album like a guided missile.
The band's chaotic makeup crystallizes into largely perfect, concise, anthemic wonder here. In singer Paul Westerberg, they have the kind of drunken, heroic jester poet who can speak to the experiences of misfits everywhere, yet simultaneously make you feel that you are the only two people in the world that have ever felt that way.
You're also getting at least six of the greatest rock songs ever written, by anyone; that's Left of the Dial, Kiss Me On The Bus, Swinging Party, Little Mascara, Bastards of Young and Here Comes a Regular, for my money, and that ought to be enough for anyone.
I have to agree with the other reviewer here, (obviously a person of distinguished taste). The lack of awareness of The Replacements in the UK is a crime: when I tell people they are probably my favourite band, I'm always confronted with the same blank stare. It's not like it's complicated. Do like rocking music? Do you like The Stones or Nirvana, The Strokes or The Kings of Leon? The 'Mats knock all those bands into a cocked hat, dude!