REMembering

Last month’s announcement that rock band REM were to split after over thirty years together left me with somewhat mixed emotions. Having found them to be a bland and pointless outfit for the last ten years, my initial reaction was that the news was slightly overdue.

However, to give the appropriate props to the Athens, Georgia outfit, they had sound tracked some of the more interesting moments in my life. Up until about 1996-1997 they had been one of my favourite bands, although I wasn’t one of their ‘cool’ fans who had their first five albums.

The first song of theirs that I heard was ‘Stand’ from the 1988 album Green. It was a catchy tune but I really got into them when they had their first mega hit ‘Losing My Religion’ from Out of Time. Their rise to an international super group coincided with me beginning to take an interest in music and specifically with watching MTV. Yes, back when the ‘M’ actually stood for music, they showed videos and REM where at the vanguard of music video as an art form.

‘Shiny Happy People’ ‘Man on the Moon' and ‘Night Swimming’ all had creative and memorable promos but it is surely the video for ‘Everybody Hurts’ that will be remembered as one of the all time greats. Touching scenes of people disillusioned with the Rat Race and the unhappiness in their lives abandon their vehicles on an L.A. freeway and walk towards something...anything. The sadness and pain on their face was the perfect accompaniment to the songs haunting lyrics and lead singer, Michael Stipe’s, tortured voice. Even my dad liked it.

The first gig I ever went to was Prince, in the Point Depot in 1995. On my way there I stopped off in HMV on Grafton Street. As I was leaving I almost crashed into two, (as my memory recalls) tall gentlemen making their way down Dublin’s shopping thoroughfare. It was Mike Mills and Peter Buck from REM. The second concert I went to was REM in Slane later that year. The next year I would go to college and meet some great people who are still some of my closest friends. They were all at the same show.

As it happens, one of those friends would be one of the factors that turned me away from REM. While I thought they were a great band, John K. was even more enthusiastic. He had all their albums, including rare bootlegs. Sharing a house was like living in an REM museum.

He had the posters, he read the books and boy, did he ever listen to their music. I would sometimes listen to music by other bands; it probably would have been Blur and Oasis at the time. If I made the mistake of leaving the room to make a cup of tea or go the toilet I would return to the sound of Stipe et al.

It was around the same that drummer Bill Berry left the band. He decided that he didn’t want to be a pop star any longer and would rather be a farmer. Well, if he couldn’t take REM anymore how could I be expected to? I listened to their stuff less and less and as newer material was released I found my ambivalence turning to resentment. As far as I was concerned REM stood for Persona Non Grata not Rapid Eye Movement.

But I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. If they stay split up and don’t do a comeback tour in the next twenty years, I will only remember the good times. With the exception of Pulp, who only got back together because I hadn’t gotten around to seeing them live first time around, bands should never reform. Do you hear me, Stone Roses?

I’ve never been so disappointed as when the rumours of a Stone Roses reunion turned out to be true for once. The Roses were what rock bands should be. They lived the fast and high life of rock stars for one album and then their candle burned out because of acrimony amongst its members. The music spoke to a specific generation at a specific time in history. Surely that’s what Rock and Roll is all about. Not middle aged men with wrinkles touring to pay tax bills and alimony.

The Rolling Stones have a lot to answer for.

Quandary

There is always a worry about committing your words and thought to world in this manner. As soon as I publish this on my blog, it is out there forever. Even if I delete on the site the code or whatever it’s called, will still be there and anyone with the appropriate technical skills could retrieve it. This is a bit of a scary thought.

Especially when, as a writer, you are adamant and definite about everything you say. Your opinion at a certain time is etched in cyber stone for all the ages. If you say something, you better damn well mean it because it’s never going away.

Generally this isn’t too much of a problem for me. At this stage in my life I’m comfortable with who I am and what my beliefs are. I’m also quite stubborn so it would take a lot of convincing to get me to change my mind on something. If Jedward bring peace to the Middle East and fill the hole in ozone layer, they will still be a pair of half-witted fucktards as far as I’m concerned.

That doesn’t mean my words don’t sometime come back to bite me on the bum. Having complained about it here, I was surprised to find myself making a very public display of affection on the bus recently. I’ve also spoken with great affection about Fernando Torres and then he left me (well, Liverpool Football Club,) shattering my tiny heart and my belief in true football love.

The worse example of possible literary hypocrisy has yet to happen yet. You might remember a piece I wrote recently about my disdain for silly world record attempts and for people doing things for charity because it’s a bit cool. It managed to offend a couple of people who were none too impressed with my take on things. That is fair enough, everyone is entitled to opinion and I stand by mine.

The problem is, I’ve recently been asked to help out with one of those stupid world record attempts. Part of me thought if I want to have any integrity I need to refuse straight out but the other part of me wanted to do it. I was at a moral fork in the road.

The record attempt is to get the most people writing a short story. I’m not sure exactly how it will work but from what I can gather they want to get about 900 people to write a sentence each. My role will be to help out with the starting of the story and to make sure each participant understands the structure of the tale and how they should proceed. Interesting, yes?

It also will be helping out Fighting Words and another organisation I have done some stuff for before, See Change, which is a mental health awareness programme. So the upside of doing it definitely outweighs the negatives. I may have people calling me a charlatan and a hypocrite but I’m sure I can live with it. I;ll post more details closer to the event and maybe you can join me in my two faced adventures.

As long as I don’t have to grow a stupid moustache.