Anti-Climacus

Reaching deep into R.E.M. obscurities, one of my favorite of their television appearances:



The show, Livewire, was Nickelodeon's attempted variation on American Bandstand. Dig the early 80s fashions, Michael Stipe's clothing choice and hair, and the general absurdity of kids dancing to a song whose pre-chorus prominently features the line "gentlemen don't get caught." But what's strangest about it is that it isn't very strange: "Carnival of Sorts" isn't a weird indie song people just happen to be dancing to: it's a straight-up danceable pop song. The accents in the verses fall at all the right places for the new wave-y dancing the kids are doing; the hi-hats* go along at a disco pace in the bridges (and all over the song, actually); the bassline drives the song.

Way back when the old intertubes were just getting started, I happened to be friends with essentially the entire online R.E.M. fan community (it's why OICM3H is a random collection of letters and numbers that nevertheless stays in my brain, though I was always more of a Peter Buck Society man myself). As part of the community spirit, I had the good fortune to be sent a number of... we referred to them as 'rare concert recordings'... including one or two from R.E.M.'s early-early days. Back then, their material was less artful and more good-time college band.

If you're looking for a reason behind R.E.M.'s early success and the relative lack of imitators, I suspect that origin is the reason why. Chronic Town and Murmur and Reckoning succeed in part because one can dance to many of the songs on them, mumbled lyrics, obscure references, gorgeous melodies and excellent song construction notwithstanding. The songs that it isn't possible to dance to retain most of the sensibility of a danceable song: the tempos are fast and the rhythm section moves. This remains true long into R.E.M.'s career: "I Remember California," from Green, is a slow-tempo contemplative quasi-apocalyptic song that still moves pretty quickly: the rhythm is slow but the drum fills are still quite fast. This plus the frequent use of bridges and pre-choruses keeps songs from being repetitive. And the songs are all short: a check of itunes confirms that there are exactly three pre-1988 R.E.M. songs longer than five minutes: "I Remember California," "Oddfellows Local 151" from Document, and "Camera" from Reckoning. None of them are more than six minutes.

Artier bands could master the importance of danceability but could never quite master the tricks that kept the songs from being monotonous. I love both The B-52s and Gang of Four's Entertainment!, but the surf-guitar affectations and the feedback over funky drums, respectively, make all the songs blend together: nothing but repeated listens will allow one to differentiate "Planet Claire" from "Rock Lobster" or "At Home He's A Tourist" from "Damaged Goods." More serious bands could master the complexities of R.E.M.'s songwriting style but never had a sense of how to make the songs involved fun, or at least pleasant to listen to. I had the good fortune of watching Singles this weekend, and if you want a rough cut at what separated the Seattle bands that broke big (Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden) from those that didn't (Tad, Mudhoney, Screaming Trees), it's the ability to write a good pop single. "Nearly Lost You" is a great song that continually trips over the momentum it builds.

Though I think it's important to be realistic and therefore critical about R.E.M., I think it's also important to remember what made them great, and why that greatness seems to elude so many other otherwise talented musicians.


* All love to the late, much lamented Stylus Magazine, where I first encountered this point, as well as the one about tempos I will make in the paragraph after next.