I must admit that, on hearing the news this past week that R.E.M. were calling it a day, my initial response was a slight shrug and a shuffle of the feet. A shrug of 'so what?' and a shuffle of embarrassment.
For the longest time R.E.M. filled that part of my soul where My Favourite Band lived. They were That Band. From the first time I stumbled across them I knew they were for me, and that I'd end up buying everything they released. Ever. And yes, I know how sad that sounds but, in my defence A) I was younger then and B) I'm a bloke, it's how we operate.
It was hearing The One I Love that clinched the deal; that one song caused me to hunt down the band's back catalogue up to that time. Document moved into my favourite album slot, or it did until I heard Fables at least; both albums continued to duke it out for my attentions before Green appeared and knocked them both into second position (for the time being).
Any fears that the band would sell out when they signed to The Man were abated, although fears that their old label would re-release some tunes to make some money out of sad sacks like me were fully founded. But the band-fan relationship could take it; I'd buy that re-release of The One I Love with the one additional track I couldn't get anywhere else (the things we did before the internet eh?).
Of course, as in any relationship, there will always be differences of opinion and compromise must be reached if things aren't going to go south permanently. Everything had been great so far, big smiles all round. Then the second album for The Man, Out Of Time.
I can still picture it in my mind's eye; I'd bunked off work a bit early and hit Woolworths on the day of release. Waiting for the bus, pristine copy of the CD in my grubby mitts, I was full of that self-satisfied glow (the glow you only get from buying the album before anyone else you knew had). Then I got home, extricated the CD from the case, thrust the shiny silver platter into my Amstrad CD1000 and pressed play.
Lines of disappointment formed on my face as I listened. To my ears the album sounded unfinished, with pop filler dropped into move some units and keep The Man happy. I ejected the disk, filed the album away on the shelf and looked forward to several months flicking the channel over every time Shiny Bloody Happy Bloody People appeared on the TV.
For a time it seemed that R.E.M. and I were through. They wanted to be all pop and radio friendly, I wanted something different. And then, just like that, Automatic For The People appeared. A deliciously maudlin and subdued album that contained, for my mind, some of their best work to date. Gone was the the happy clappy, in was the dour, the introspective and depressing.
The band maintained this winning streak with Monster, a heaving slab of raw guitars and distortion that invaded my head and wouldn't leave. On the accompanying world tour I got the chance to see my heroes, standing amongst several thousand people at Milton Keynes Bowl. The experience of Let Me In, with a mirrorball lowered from the gantry to spin gently next to Michael Stipe, shards of light dancing across the crowd, is one of the "life flashing before my eyes" bits I intend to fully relive when my number is finally up.
Looking back now I don't think I appreciated some of the great tunes on New Adventures In Hi-Fi when I first heard it, instead I selectively played Wake Up Bomb and How The West Was Won and Where It Got Us on repeat; a loud rocker and a new tune with an old feel. The rest of the album went pretty much undiscovered by me until several years after, possibly not until the disappointment of Reveal.
Despite liking Imitation of Life so much that I bought the DVD single (which featured the excellent video) the subsequent album felt like it missed more boxes than it hit. Some great ideas, yes, but a forgettable album all the same. Can you remember the other hits from Reveal? No. Me either.
Around The Sun passed me by completely, Accelerate got a couple of listens but it didn't really bring anything new to the table. The latest (and final) album will probably go unlistened to until it appears in my Christmas stocking. And that brings me back to the shuffle of embarrassment I mentioned earlier; a band that I invested a lot of time (and money) in that now, some time after I moved on, finally reach the same conclusion. I look to my feet, grimace slightly, shuffle one Converse behind the other and cue up Document. There, that's better.
No comments:
Post a Comment