R.E.M.

“If you're on your own in this life,

The days and nights are long,

When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on,

Well, everybody hurts sometimes”

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 "C"

Main Decade: 80's - 90's

Main Eras:

Alternative I: The Underground 80's

Alternative II: The Big Bang (1990-1999)

(Post)-alternative III: The Dispersion (2000-???)

 

Key Members:

Michael Stipe – Vocalist

Peter Buck – Guitar

Mike Mills – Bass and backing vocals

Bill Berry – Drums

 

Key Songs:

Losing My Religion, Everybody Hurts, The One I Love, Nightswimming, E-Bow The Letter, Finest Worksong, King of Birds, These Days, Man on the Moon, It’s The End Of The World As We Know It, Fall On Me, Radio Free Europe, Swan Swan H, Driver 8, So. Central Rain, Drive, Orange Crush, Perfect Circle, Stand,  Country Feedback,  Shiny Happy People

 

What an unusual name for a band. And so fitting. Rapid Eye Movement, from which this band's famous initials come, is generally not given much thought despite being a vital process for human beings. It's one of those things we take for granted. And yet, it's in this phase of deep sleep that we truly rest, detoxify psychologically, and our brain enters one of its most creative and fascinating phases: sleep. Something similar happens with R.E.M., the band.

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In a way, R.E.M. were underestimated. It's true that in the '90s they became huge and had several hits, but aside from "Losing My Religion" (it's curious that their biggest hit only reached #4 on the charts, and perhaps at the time "The One I Love" and "Everybody Hurts" didn't reach such heights), I don't know if they really had another mainstream smash hit like the ones many '90s bands seemed to achieve with relative ease, at least others ranked with the same C. Not that they needed one. And as for fans, they drew massive crowds in the '90s, but I don't know if, like the aforementioned bands, they were ever anyone's absolute favorite band. Don't get me wrong, I often speak for myself and end up generalizing, but I get the impression that R.E.M. was a band that a lot of people liked, but very few actually had them at #1 in their lives. We knew they were there, we listened to their songs (and again I'm generalizing, but now that I think back I realize I know many more songs than I thought), we knew they had been a fundamental pillar of Alternative, that they influenced trillions of bands, but we never gave them their true place and importance in Rock.

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That's why I think the name suits them perfectly. R.E.M. is such an important band that without their quiet creativity, their genius without virtuosos or the spotlight, their understated elegance, 80s rock might have died out completely, just as a person without rapid eye movement would go mad and eventually die. And yet, few of us are truly aware of this. We wake up and say, "Ah, what a great dream I had!" just as we hear an R.E.M. song on the radio now and then, we recognize them immediately, and say, "Ah, what a great song," and by the afternoon, both the dream and the song have vanished.

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The band originated in Athens, Georgia, USA. And I clarify this because, given the group's unusual style, in my younger, innocent days, I thought they were Greek or Georgian. In 1980, Michael Stipe met Peter Buck at a record store where Peter worked. Michael was looking for records by Patti Smith, Velvet Underground, and other bands that Buck was trying to hide so he could buy them himself, since he was an amateur guitarist in his spare time. They ended up talking one day and discovered a great musical affinity, became friends, and formed a band. At the University of Georgia, they completed the lineup with bassist Mike Mills and drummer Bill Berry. They rehearsed for several months, during which they changed their name every week, like almost all bands starting out. In April of '80, they debuted at a friend's birthday party. After more changes to absurd names, towards the end of the year, they decided to play it by chance for their final name and randomly picked R.E.M. from a dictionary.

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The young men dropped out of university to dedicate themselves fully to music. Jefferson Holt was so impressed with their style that he became their manager and moved to Athens to be near the band. Soon, R.E.M. was a sensation in their hometown and began to expand their reach throughout the southern United States, playing on the underground and college circuit. At that time, they traveled in a van driven by Holt himself, barely earning enough to cover gas and food. In 1981, they managed to scrape together enough to record their first single, "Radio Free Europe," in North Carolina. Released by an independent label, it ran for a mere 100 copies. Despite this, the single began to gain traction on college radio, leaked onto commercial radio, and the New York Times eventually included it on its list of the best songs of '81. They then released the EP *Chronic Town*, which was acquired by IRS Records. The band rejected an offer to sign with RCA because of the greater creative freedom offered by IRS, with whom they finally signed in 1982. At the beginning of the following year, the label had them record their first LP with producer Stephen Haghe, but he was such a perfectionist that the band felt uncomfortable, and he was giving them a sound that wasn't truly theirs. They ended up recording with Don Dixon and Mitch Easter. Due to their bad experience with Haghe, the band decided to break with traditional recording conventions and intentionally avoided the solos and synthesizers of the era. Murmur was released in 1983, with a re-recorded version of "Radio Free Europe" as its lead single. And despite the low budget and limited promotion, it reached number 36 on the Billboard charts, thanks to R.E.M.'s established presence on college radio, practically nationwide.

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And so began the R.E.M. myth. Television appearances featured Stipes sporting a magnificent mane of blond hair, introducing songs that were still untitled. In 1984, they released their second album, Reckoning, which reached number 27 on the charts, an unprecedented position for a band then known as a "college band," a band that was truly laying the groundwork for what would later be known as alternative music. Fables for Reconstruction was released in 1985, marking a change in direction, with Joe Boyd taking over production and recording in England. While not a concept album, it attempts to be a collection of stories from Southern mythology told by an old man to his grandchildren around a fireplace. The change didn't please everyone, although it became IRS's biggest-selling album to date. Nevertheless, the record label was growing weary of R.E.M.'s failure to achieve a major commercial success.

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In '86 they released Lifes Rich Glue, which garnered them more critical acclaim and, for the first time, a hit single on commercial radio, "Fall On Me." The album went gold for selling half a million copies. Capitalizing on this success, the record label released a compilation of B-sides the following year, Dead Letter Office. The band showcased a mature and brilliant side, with more political and incisive lyrics. By this point, R.E.M. had a fully defined style and was a cult band in the USA, although still far from the mainstream. For the recording of Document, also in '87, Scott Lit produced them, and they felt so comfortable with him that they would team up for the next four albums. Stipes broke his unspoken vow not to write love songs, and while "The One I Love" isn't really a love song since its meaning is cryptic and ambiguous, the song would end up being R.E.M.'s first real smash hit. In the USA and Canada, Document would be a gem, their most furious and political album, eventually selling a million copies, but it was ignored in Europe, ironically leading to the split between R.E.M. and IRS. The band signed with Warner Bros. in 1988. For many, it was a betrayal, but Stipes and company were opening a gigantic door, paving the way for the breakup of the alternative movement. Until then, this genre, initially called college rock, remained underground, with little mainstream support, publicity, or distribution. R.E.M.'s signing with Warner would be the first step that opened the doors for a host of underground bands to sign with major labels and release their music to a wider audience. Perhaps another band would have broken this barrier, unthinkable even in the mid-80s, when you were ignored if you weren't new wave pop or hair metal, but we'll never know. This is why I say that R.E.M. R.E.M. was a crucial band, and this turning point is often undervalued. The alternative and grunge explosion of the early 90s would have been impossible without R.E.M. paving the way, and this is rarely acknowledged. Furthermore, the band's condition to Warner was total and absolute creative freedom, which also set a significant precedent.

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In 1988, IRS would still release the compilation album Eponymous to further capitalize on the band's success, but with their blessing and input in the track selection. R.E.M. debuted with Warner in 1988 with Green. It featured a more experimental sound, leaning somewhat towards the mainstream, but included many more hits, such as "Stand" and "Orange Crush," and again delivered incisive political attacks in their lyrics. At that time, R.E.M. was one of the most powerful bands on the planet, alongside U2, Depeche Mode, Guns N' Roses, and The Cure. After the massive Green Tour, the band decided to take a sabbatical year to rest for the first time in eight years.

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In the mid-90s, the band reunited for their seventh album, another gem called Out of Time, in which the group greatly expanded their sound by incorporating organs, acoustic guitars, mandolins, and featuring a collaboration with Kate Pierson of the B-52's. Out of Time received praise from both critics and fans, and was the first album to reach the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic. "Losing My Religion" would become the group's most iconic song. When Buck was asked if they had worked with the intention of creating an anthem, he sarcastically replied, "Sure, when you want to make a mainstream hit, the first thing you do is pick up a mandolin." The album would be key in the transition from the '80s to the '90s, winning countless awards and selling millions of copies worldwide, establishing R.E.M. as a global phenomenon. as a leading band of that more dissatisfied, restless, and questioning generation than that of the 80s. The band didn't tour to promote the album, but they made TV appearances, a bunch of videos for MTV, and even the famous Unplugged.

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Just when it seemed they couldn't do any better, they outdid themselves with Automatic for the People in 1992. Darker, yet more rock-oriented, it featured spectacular string arrangements by none other than John Paul Jones. Again, acclaim was immediate, but although R.E.M. didn't tour in support of the album, several singles achieved commercial success, particularly "Everybody Hurts." This, coupled with Stipes's gaunt appearance (he had already shaved his head), fueled rumors that Michael had AIDS. In '94, they released Monster, still very solid, more rock-oriented, and raw. In January of '95, they embarked on their first tour in six years, which became one of the most anticipated and spectacular of the year. In March, while performing in Switzerland, Bill Berry collapsed on stage due to an aneurysm and took a month to recover. Later, Mills underwent surgery for intestinal problems, and in August, Michael was hospitalized for a hernia. Despite this, they managed to record enough live material to release Road Movie, a live album.

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In 1996, they began to lose momentum. It's said that this was due to a pact with the devil—I mean, Warner. They supposedly renegotiated and extended their contract with the label for $80 million, the largest sum to date (unofficial). From then on, they continued to release good albums, but without the magic of their earlier work. In other words, it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what changed. Perhaps it was the departure of their manager, Jeff Holt, who got into legal trouble for an alleged sexual assault on a female employee at their Athens office. New Adventures in Hi-Fi from '96 is still a good album, but something is missing, or they're starting to sound repetitive, something that had never happened before. For their next album, they began experimenting with loops and electronic elements, which made Bill uncomfortable. In October of '97, Berry announced his departure from the group. The album Up was released in 1998, their first as a trio, and their first in years without producer Scott Litt. Pat McCarthy produced the album, but it lacked the brilliance of their best work and failed to even reach a million copies sold. And well, to make a long story short, the 2000s weren't kind to R.E.M. either. It's worth noting that neither Reveal (2001), Around the Sun (2004), Accelerate (2008), nor Collapse Into Now (2011) are bad. R.E.M. deserves credit for not having suffered a complete collapse. It's simply that they were no longer able to reinvent themselves after that creative explosion of the late '80s and early '90s.

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Apparently, the band themselves realized this. With Collapse Into Now, the band fulfilled their contractual obligations with Warner, and on September 21, 2011, on their official website, they announced the end of the band amicably, without arguments, in a very dignified manner. Although it's clear their best years were behind them, it's worth highlighting the bravery of this decision to end on a high note, rather than succumbing to a true decline and releasing albums just for the sake of it. I believe this work ethic and professionalism is what truly made R.E.M. great, although many feel their proper ending would have been after New Adventures in Hi-Fi.

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R.E.M. is one of the most creative and underrated bands out there, incredibly diverse and expansive. They have a defined style, yet none in particular. At one point I thought, "R.E.M. is the American Café Tacuba," only to burst out laughing and correct myself, "If anything, Café Tacuba would be the Mexican R.E.M." And the comparison isn't about size, relevance, or style, but precisely because neither band has a style per se; they're identifiable perhaps by their voices. If you try to categorize their music, you end up in a knot, yet you know it's them the moment you hear them. R.E.M.'s music has no limits, and perhaps it's identifiable by Buck's obsession with arpeggios and fingerpicking, and by Michael's powerful voice, instantly recognizable even if you've never heard that song before. A bit nasal, but tremendously emotive, with melodies that hook and captivate from the very first second. Cryptic lyrics, some of which only Michael would know the meaning of, if they even have one, and in many cases sung with intelligible phrasing, almost a murmur (hence the title of the debut album) that makes Stipes's tremendous vocal power even more apparent. He could very well be singing the Bible or the Communist Manifesto; the point is HOW he does it.

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I maintain that R.E.M. is unlikely to ever be anyone's favorite band, although it's possible, haha. My point is that they aren't an incendiary band, one that generates passions and legions of ardent fans wearing their t-shirts in the street. But it's also true that R.E.M. is a group that's hard to dislike. They stayed out of controversies, maintaining a healthy disdain for fame without getting into fights like Pearl Jam, or controversial and radically different paths like Radiohead; The type of protest they employed was always clear, yet subtle, without sounding furious or out of touch with reality, without sounding messianic, without seeming like they were delivering a sermon, like, uh, Bono. They were key in the development of alternative music, being among the first bands to open the genre to the mainstream and unwittingly creating a revolution that would culminate in the great explosion of the 90s. And on the other hand, they also knew how to age gracefully, releasing albums that were clearly weaker, but without selling out, without betraying their sound, simply because they had already reached the peak of their creative trajectory. So much so, that just as it's difficult to choose their best albums, it's also difficult to define their worst work of the 2000s. Even in their death, R.E.M. handled it in an exemplary way, without becoming stagnant, without waiting to sound pathetic, and highlighting that their friendship transcended the end of the band, while professionally fulfilling their commitment.

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Dave Grohl defines them better than I can: “We all look up to them, not as idols or distant rockstars, but more like those cool guys who work in a record store and occasionally slip you some weed rolled up in an old photo.” Perhaps that's why they seem to be the least rockstar of rockstars, because deep down they are simply “Shiny Happy People,” in the most positive sense possible.

 

 

By Corvan 

Apr/1/2013

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