Twenty-six years ago, an event took place that changed my life. And I wasn’t even there. The rock group R.E.M. played together publicly for the first time on April 5, 1980. The event was hardly something that signaled a long career – they didn’t even have a name and had only practiced together for a month or so before playing at a beer-soaked party.
But that night changed my life, even if I was probably at home watching television or making a fool out of myself at a junior high dance.
I don’t make a habit out of making heroes out of celebrities. I have a low tolerance for those who see entertainers as anything other than just that.
I suspend that rule for R.E.M. In reality, I don’t think they have done anything extra special. But the fact that they have achieved great success while not doing anything special is what makes me feel the way I do.
I don’t think people really appreciate the fact that three guys – drummer Bill Berry left the band in 1997 to become a farmer – who met in college in 1979 have played in the same band together since then.
We now live in the “American Idol” culture where “stars” are made by telephone polls. The notion of a college band hitting it big and staying together for more than two decades seems laughable now.
Guys have always dreamed of that, but the possibility seems so much more limited now. I admit that before I ever heard of R.E.M., I had a guitar and I fumbled my way through chords before realizing that I had absolutely, positively no musical talent.
That’s part of the reason I envy the guys in the band. They had some talent and made the most out of it. I didn’t even get that chance.
The music obviously has something to do with it. I don’t try and tell people their favorite band isn’t worth listening to because I know that the feeling I get when I hear some of my favorite R.E.M. songs defies descriptions.
All of this is magnified by the availability of recordings from their earliest shows on the Internet. I can put myself in that bar, at that party and get a glimpse of what people heard back in 1980 when the whole idea was a lark.
In recent years, the band has pulled songs from its earliest days and officially released them for the first time. To stand in a concert hall in 2004 and watch them enthusiastically play a song they wrote in 1980 is just too much to bear for me.
Songs by R.E.M. have helped me come to grips with my views on many issues. They led me into ill-advised college flings. They keep me excited as I drive down the road even now at 37.
I guess part of the attraction is my refusal to stop feeling like I belong in college. I don’t ever want to grow up and “Superman,” “Permanent Vacation,” and “Radio Free Europe” keep that feeling alive.