Reviews
The Legends of Laurel Canyon
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die
It’s So Hard To Tell Who’s Going To Love You The Best
Karen Dalton
Transfiguration of Vincent
M. Ward
Muswell Hillbillies
Kinks
Christmas in the Heart
Bob Dylan
Glitter and Doom Live
Tom Waits
Let It Roll: The Best of George Harrison
George Harrison
Secret, Profane & Sugarcane
Elvis Costello
Playing for Change
Songs Around the World
|
R.E.M.
Since punk had fizzled out without making any substantial commercial impact, most record companies reverted to business as usual and stuck to safe product that was intended to have broad appeal. For a generation that came of age during punk’s flare-up though, there was no turning back. The mainstream offered nothing of consequence and little of interest, so an underground scene was formed, made up of hundreds upon hundreds of bands that had little hope of mainstream appeal, and it flourished. In major cities and college towns, an entire culture came into being that supported this underground network by attending any of dozens of nightly shows and buying independently released records that gained exposure mostly through word-of-mouth.
Like any college town, Athens, Georgia, has a large population of budding adults who were trying to figure out what they ought to be doing with their lives. What made Athens a bit different in the early 80's though, was its Bohemian atmosphere and the importance that homemade music had on the local scene. Most of the young population in town attended the University of Georgia, but a good percentage drifted in and out of school while concentrating most of their energy on forming bands. In the late ‘70’s, The B-52's were the first to emerge from Athens and rise to a level of prominence, which surprised and then inspired other bands to do the same, including Pylon, Love Tractor and R.E.M.
Bassist Mike Mills and drummer Bill Berry were old friends who met Peter Buck and Michael Stipe at an Athens party. The four quickly realized that they had the necessary pieces to make a band, so they began to rehearse. Initially, they concentrated on cover versions and only warily worked a few original songs into their set. Over time, their originals began to take precedence, and once they named friend Jefferson Holt their manager, R.E.M. became a band that could be taken seriously. They recorded a highly touted and now highly collectable 45 RPM single, "Radio Free Europe/Sitting Still", at Mitch Easter's (of Let's Active) Drive-In Studio. It was released on the tiny Hib-Tone label, bringing R.E.M. enough attention to earn a contract with I.R.S. Records. Continuing to work with Easter, R.E.M. then recorded an E.P. (an “extended play” is a collection of songs considerably shorter than a typical album collection) for I.R.S. entitled Chronic Town, which marked the first time that the band got broad exposure. Chronic Town was just one of many records released into a melange of independent product, yet it stood out.
While other bands were experimenting with all sorts of styles, from minimalism to polyrhythm to atonality, R.E.M.'s songs were rhythmically straightforward and contained ambitious melodies. Their look was straightforward too, without the neo-gothic, doom-and-gloom fashion or introverted attitudes that were very popular, particularly among the English bands. By the mid-80's, the American underground scene had become somewhat polarized from the sporadic and fickle English scene, with a do-it-yourself methodology whose purpose was to keep a band relevant and active for as long as possible. R.E.M.’s members have been masters at controlling most aspects of their career, a trait that has added to their appeal as a roots-based alternative to industry-driven drivel or trendy, self-important hype.
Because Stipe's lyrics were mixed low and mumbled to the point of being inaudible, R.E.M. conveyed the all-important aura of mystery that most underground bands of the early 80's required for respect and credibility. An added advantage of Stipe's vague approach was that it allowed listeners to hear phrases that didn't necessarily exist and apply their own meanings to the songs. Every now and then a literal message emerges, but by and large, R.E.M.'s lyrics remained as opaque as smoke-filled glass. After the first album, the appropriately titled Murmur, critical opinion was nearly unanimous; R.E.M. was the best new underground band, by default implying that they were also the best band around. Subsequent releases (Reckoning, Fables Of The Reconstruction, Life's Rich Pageant, Document) continued in a similar vein, each time expanding on the band's vocabulary, and in turn, their audience base, until it surpassed mass acceptance and hovered on the brink of superstardom.
More than most, R.E.M. is a good band, with all the things that implies. The members are friends, which has helped them to attain longevity, and they are dedicated to the idea of the "band" as a philosophy of sorts. These things, in combination with their willingness to work and an ability to write intriguing and melodic songs, are what caused R.E.M. to succeed where other independent-based bands have failed. Due largely to R.E.M's ability to reach a mass audience, America’s independent labels flourished, providing the impetus for other Athens-type scenes to flourish, as well, including the Seattle scene that years later would spawn bands such as Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. Even after they moved to Warner Brothers and became hugely popular with the album "Green", they did so without accusations of selling out. They had their proverbial cake while eating it, too.
Out Of Time was R.E.M.'s second Warner Brothers album, and it could be considered the record that broke them wide open with pop audiences. Besides yielding the Top 10 singles "Losing My Religion" and "Shiny Happy People", the album rose to #1. Now, they were not only being called "America's best rock 'n' roll band" (on the cover of Rolling Stone, no less) but they were the country's biggest-selling band as well. This steady increase in exposure took place without any significant change in image and without destroying the aura of mystery that clung to the band's material and its lead vocalist/lyricist, Michael Stipe. An irony of this was that while R.E.M. continued to be viewed as remaining true to it’s ideals and retaining a high level of integrity, the bandmembers also became masters of audience manipulation.
R.E.M., and particularly its mercurial lead singer, now face an unusual crossroads. To become legendary, artists must surrender a portion of their personal lives and privacy to the cause. Just as disturbingly, they also may have to abandon their artful approach for something much more direct and personal. Virtually anybody who has become a figurehead – from Bob Dylan to Pete Townshend to Lou Reed to John Lennon - did so by trading style for substance. For R.E.M. to do this, it would need to abandon inscrutability and embrace forthrightness. Some legends, such as Mick Jagger, have flirted with the idea ("If I should stick a knife in my heart...") but ultimately decided that it wasn't worth the personal expense. At its most intense, rock and roll is cannibalistic and thrives on the personal carnage that it yields. The above-mentioned figureheads have all at some point sacrificed a portion of their lives to the unquenchable demands of rock and roll, only to find that their lives became unalterably changed, sometimes partially or completely ruined, by the self-exposure.
Stipe must know this well. In fact, I think this point could very well be a subtext in "Losing My Religion". The song takes its title from a Southern colloquialism but revels in the multiple interpretations to which it is prone. When Stipe sings, "Life is bigger...than you, and you are not me," he seems to be evaluating the potential cost of making himself too vulnerable. Stardom is sometimes harrowing experience ("That's me in the spotlight losing my religion") so why should he be compelled to expose himself any more than is necessary (“I’m choosing my confessions”)? Although a headlong plunge into artless confession is the viable means that more than likely would increase their long-term significance, is it worth it? Image-wise, R.E.M. is one of the most ill-defined bands to ever hit the mainstream. Much of its success could be directly attributed to a mastery of metaphor and allusion, so is this something worth risking?
R.E.M. has already come a long way and changed the face of modern music. They didn't want to go to the mountain, so they brought the mountain to them. The irony lies in the fact that the end result is essentially the same; R.E.M. is on top of the mountain. Now they must choose what they want to say from this vantage point. Do they continue to merely entertain or do they risk becoming the fools on the hill who sold their souls to a meat grinder disguised as eternal recognition? Oh no, I've said too much...I haven't said enough.

|