I hate R.E.M. – but it doesn’t mean that I hate the people in R.E.M. – Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills and Michael Stipe. They are, by all accounts, decent people who are actively involved in their local community and support good causes. But the frickin band, man – oh the horror.

I spent my teenage years doing two things; running away from my skin and listening to R.E.M. – I don’t know which I regret more. Well actually I don’t regret either, but both seem equally silly now.

The second CD I ever bought was Singles Collected[1], a compilation of the A- and B-sides of singles released while R.E.M. were signed to IRS. But my connection to Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe goes back further than that. I don’t remember very many songs I heard on the radio as a child, but I specifically recognised two songs when I heard them again years later: The One I Love and Stand, from R.E.M.’s 5th and 6th albums respectively. So there must be something to their music which attracted me both subliminally and actively. Now don’t get me wrong – I’ve in recent years had a terrible awakening, a shattering realisation that R.E.M. are not only crap, but that Michael Stipe is a pretensing self-referential bore. Jeez I hate R.E.M. – some of the worst lyrics in the history of man [2] wrapped up in a jangly monotony of poprock-lite. Fuck. What was I thinking?

The fact is that despite the vomit-inducing horrors of many, many of their songs they did write a couple of really fantastic songs and I do believe that they should be recognised for their major contribution to the birth of college rock/jangle pop. They really did change the musical landscape of 80’s USA with their independent label, southern gothic oeuvre.

Confession time; I own all of the band’s albums up until 1998’s Up (which I liked) [3] . I also own two compilations, one bootleg live CD and two bootleg live tapes, about 5 CD-singles and two vinyl albums. So we’re talking about close to 25 musical artefacts here. I also bought and devoured the exhaustive companion book (It Crawled from the South). But, BUT; I absolutely fucking refused to go and see them live when they came to South Africa. By that time I had awakened from my delusion.

And now a quick run-through review of their work (my opinion). But first, let’s hear from the defendents themselves. The songs on this playlist are all legitimately great.

	Murmur
	great album – a classic, but it really has aged though it still does deserve respect. West of the Fields is the archetypal southern gothic pop song.
	Reckoning
	not bad, some good songs – particularly So. Central Rain, but also some crap lyrics, particularly Camera.
	Fables of the Reconstruction
	yes, good, solid, a classic – but also mired by some utter shit, particularly Kohoutek; even the title is an atrocity.
	Lifes Rich Pageant
	hmmm… things are starting to go bad here – The Flowers of Guatemala, What If We Give It Away? and Cuyahoga are unforgivable.
	Document
	a new sound – good – some righteous radio rockpop killers – The One I Love suffers from terrible lyrics but I rate just about all of it. Welcome to the Occupation is a longtime favourite of mine.
	Green
	more righteous radio rockpop, Turn You Inside-Out is fantastic, but World Leader Pretend and The Wrong Child are beyond contempt. Fuck you Stipe, what utter crap.
	Out of Time
	Oh god, where to begin. This. Is. A. Piece. Of. Shit. Don’t even talk to me about Shiny Happy People; Belong is without a doubt the worst song ever released by R.E.M.
	Automatic for the People
	If it weren’t for Anton Corbijn’s iconic photography this would be lost among the band’s other output. However, Drive is truly great. The other songs have become classics, but only in the same way that Huey Lewis’s Hip to be Square is a classic. Nightswimming is almost as bad as Belong.
	Monster
	Yes! Finally – a wall-to-wall great album. Great cover, great songs, great sound. All of it is absolute gold. Not all of the songs are equally strong (King of Comedy) but the album is a cohesive bomb.
	New Adventures in Hi-Fi
	Same as Automatic for the People – instantly forgotten if it weren’t for the photography. But Undertow and The Wake-Up Bomb rock.
	Up
	radio pop – Daysleeper is the right sound for their old age, but Walk Unafraid deserves contempt.
	Reveal
	Oh fuck. This does not even deserve contempt. I heard Imitation of Life a few times on the radio. Whatever. You suck.
	Around the Sun
	don’t know anything about it but am ready to dismiss it out of hand.
	Accelerate
	I saw the video for Supernatural Superserious – I liked it but am still ready to dismiss the album as a piece of unredeemable shit.

Now, if you look at the above high-quality, detailed and considered review of the last 26 years’ worth of work by these four Athenites you may say that it doesn’t look to bad – some good stuff. Yes, some good stuff, but also some of the most unforgivably atrocious effluent known to man. Am I serious about that statement?
Yes I am. Here are some of the lyrics of Belong

Her world collapsed early Sunday morning
She got up from the kitchen table
Folded the newspaper and silenced the radio
Those creatures jumped the barricades
And have headed for the sea, sea

Those creatures jumped the barricades
And have headed for the sea
She began to breathe
To breathe at the thought of such freedom
Stood and whispered to her child: belong
She held the child and whispered
With calm, calm: belong

Stood and whispered to her child; belong
She held the child and whispered
With calm, calm: belong

These barricades can only hold for so long
Her world collapsed early Sunday morning
She took the child held tight
Opened the window
A breath, this song, how long
And knew, knew: belong

See what I mean? Want more? Get ready to puke – The Wrong Child

I’ve watched the children come and go
A late long march into spring
I sit and watch those children
Jump in the tall grass
Leap the sprinkler
Walk in the ground
Bicycle clothespin spokes
The sound the smell of swingset hands

I will try to sing a happy song
I’ll try and make a happy game to play
Come play with me I whispered to my new found friend
Tell me what it’s like to go outside
I’ve never been
Tell me what it’s like to just go outside
I’ve never been
And I never will

I’m not supposed to be like this
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay

Hey, those kids are looking at me
I told my friend myself
Those kids are looking at me
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
What do I do?
What can I do?
What should I do?
What do I say?
What can I say?

I said I’m not supposed to be like this
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay, okay

Oh sweet Jesus, why do you torment me so? Why does the man not stop singing? Oh please, I’m dying. Yes, it really is that bad. And yet Michael Stipe does produce some good, even great, lyrics – here’s Circus Envy, the monster in Monster.

Here comes that awful feeling again
Welcome the ugly animal
I hold my breath to watch you swing,
My high rope acrobat ball and chain,
I’m not afraid, I messed it, messed it, messed it, messed it up

I’ve got my telescope head in the haystack
I’m getting tired of your dodgeball circus act
Put pepper in my coffee, I forgot to bark on command

Here comes that awful feeling again
Make way for monster jealousy
The strong man kicked sand into my breakfast cereal bowl
I spelled your name with Oatios,
He messed it, messed it, messed it, messed it up

I’ve got my telescope head in the haystack
I am tired of your dodgeball circus act
Put pepper in my coffee, I forgot to bark on command

You’re mean, mean, mean
You tease, tease, tease me

If I were you I’d really run from me
I’d really, really wish that I were you
When I get loose, I’ll climb a tree
And drop a load on your head
This monster in me makes me retch, you messed it, messed it up

I’ve got my telescope head in the haystack
I am jealous of your dodgeball circus act
Put pepper in my coffee, I forgot to bark
Put pepper in my coffee, I forgot to bark on command

You’re mean, mean, mean
You tease, tease, tease me

Do you smell jealousy?
Do you smell jealousy, jealousy, jealousy?

Yeah! Why couldn’t he just give us more of that?

But it’s not just Michael Stipe’s terrible lyrics for which the band should be ostracized. It’s also the fact that the musicians were willing to let him record them. And that they actually went as far as to produce music that suits such shit. The mandolin on Losing My Religion? The bass line on Texarkana? The kindergarten-level drumming of Bill Berry in general? Jeez, I understand that simplicity is the peak of genius [4] but for fuck’s sakes – learn something more whydontcha?

Now after all this vitriol, my point. You’ll notice that from the above reviews I left out an item in the band’s discography – Chronic Town.

Chronic Town

Chronic Town is R.E.M.’s debut EP, the first multi-song thing they released[5]. It is my emotional connection to R.E.M. – the reason why I will never feel the need to throw out any of their albums; why I am always able to go back to Automatic for the People and find something to really enjoy. And even more specifically my connection is to the de-facto title track to that EP – Carnival of Sorts (Boxcars). And precisely, my emotional connection to R.E.M. is in the moment between the 19th and 20th seconds of that song.
I’ve never in my life been as excited and permanently enthralled by anything as by that one sound when Michael Stipe exhales into the microphone and the simple, almost trivial riff starts[6]. I’ve never been the same since hearing that. You’ll notice that this blog – this very journal of personal mastery – is named after a lyric in Carnival of Sorts – the cages under cage. My first email address was carnival@somethingortheother. I used the word carnival as a computer password for many years. I doubt whether I’ve ever listened to another song as many times – thousands. Carnival of Sorts is the sound of my finally getting how it feels to be young and that I wanted to feel young.

But it’s not yet the sound of my liberation; that comes as part of my next post: Cape Town – the Psychedelic Years.

So goodnight sweet R.E.M. your pathetic descent into pretension will never be eclipsed by what you did for me with your first two releases.