Paul Westerberg: He's certainly not violent when it comes to other human beings, but his playing tendency is a little on the rugged side.

PB: Do you have a particular alter ego that you identify with more these days?

PW: It would be frightening if I lost Paul and turned into Grandpaboy. There's danger of that happening because it certainly comes natural. Paul sometimes gets edited, but Grandpaboy never does. Whatever I'm doing as Grandpaboy I don't think twice. I just do it. He's the one who uses a shaver for a guitar solo -- you know, a what-the-hell kind of thing.

PB: In Come Feel Me Tremble you flashed a sheet of paper that said, "Keep brave" and "concentrate." Then you put it in your pocket and went onstage. Do you always keep confidence-building reminders on you?

PW: No, that was just the one time. You know, a four-year-old boy once told me to keep brave and concentrate.

PB: Your son?

PW: He's smarter than it makes me comfortable. [Laughs] So for him to say that without any coaxing was pretty much what I needed to hear.

PB: Did fatherhood change you as a musician -- or as a person?

PW: It opened up another side to me, but it didn't squelch anything that was there previously.

PB: Does Johnny know anything about your music?

PW: He's starting to get suspicious. The other day he asked me, "What color is Grandpaboy?" I told him pale. But, you know, he's like me in a way. There's a definite horror streak where he loves Halloween and scary stories and stuff. There's the tongue-in-cheek scariness about Grandpaboy that's laughable to anyone who'd take it seriously. We won't mention the names of any performers who try to be scary on purpose.

PB: Are you afraid of the day your son will discover you're not a minivan-driving, nine-to-five-er like all the other dads?

PW: He's already hip. I mean, I don't have a driver's license. It's already like he's 14 and he expects me to be like other dads. But in a different way, he does understand the concept that some dads get up and shave and go to work, and I get up, come downstairs and play the guitar. He thinks it's very odd for other fathers to leave the home.

He just started school two days ago. This is the first time in five years that I've had a whole afternoon without him here. It made me sad. I've gotta admit, the first day I was holding back the tears. He comes home and he's not quite mine as much as he was.

PB: It makes you realize how your own father probably felt about you.

PW: Yeah. My son is slowly growing up to where he'll try to tie his shoes, and when I try to help he says, "Daddy, don't help me." Compare that to me going over to my dad's now and helping him take his shoes off. I go over and give my dad a haircut and help him shave. Just as my little boy doesn't need my help, my dad needs me to practically feed him now. It's life, I guess.

PB: Has your family affected your music?