R.E.M. — A Monster Anniversary

Pre-Bloggy Note

Before you read this, be aware that R.E.M.’s Monster came out on September 27, 1994. So if we’re splitting hairs (ouch!), the 25th anniversary was actually about seven weeks ago. But hey…

If you could see yourself now, baby
It's not my fault
You used to be so in control
You're going to roll right over this one

Just roll me over, let me go
You're laying blame
Take this as no, no, no, no, no

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang
Blame, blame, blame
You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang
It's not my thing so let it go

All right?! We cool? On with the show…

R.E.M.’s Monster Is 25 Years Older
And so are you…

The fact that 25 years can pass you by in a blink is exhausting to try and wrap your head around. But looking back to a precise moment a quarter century ago with total clarity — to know exactly who you were then without a shadow of a doubt — is about as mesmerizing and humbling as a nostalgia bomb gets.

On September 27, 1994, I was three weeks shy of my 17th birthday. I’d just started my senior year of high school and had a lot going on. I was the captain of the swim team, I played 1st chair trombone and was a band geek, I was making home movies with my friend Ron Dean, and I was in love. Oh fine, I guess I had schoolwork to do too but honestly, when you’re 16 and me, there are much more important things to occupy your time with. One such obsession: a little known band called R.E.M.

Automatic For The People had come out just a few years before and I was still reeling from the broody loveliness of it. If anyone were to dare tell me you could nightswim on anything deserving less than a quiet night, I’d respectfully disagree and go off on my lonesome to find the river. And yes, we all knew full well that everybody hurts. The message was drilled into us a thousand times a day on radio stations and MTV. (We listened to radio stations and watched a thing called MTV back then. It was awesome.)

Prior to Automatic, my history with R.E.M. was short but intense. Out of Time was the first album that really got my attention. Who was I to ignore Michael Stipe’s genius among the sweet, dulcet sounds of Losing My Religion? It was, still is, and forever shall be, a perfect song.

To say I was enamored with R.E.M. would be an understatement. When Automatic ruled the world, I hit their back catalog hard. I bought all their CDs, learned the trivia and their back story, and played It’s The End Of The World Ad We Know It (And I Feel Fine) til my ears bled. I needed to know what the lyrics were and in those pre-Internet days, the only way to do so was to listen, rewind, jot down what you thought Stipe was singing, listen, rewind, repeat, repeat, repeat. I memorized what I thought was a close enough match to the song and I still sing those probably misinterpreted lyrics today.

Beat it up at ox speed!
Brown nose, street front
Ladder starts a clatter with beer height down fight!
Wire in the fire it’s a super serpent game
And the government for hire at combat site!
Nester Lester comin’ in a hurry with the fury
Beatin’ down
Your
Neck

Just a taste. Go ahead and Google me wrong if you feel like it. I never have and I’m overly content with that. I’ll die on my ill-sung Armageddon song’s hill.

I made too many mix tapes that were all just different moods or nerdy shuffles of their extensive catalog. I would bring a boombox on the bus to swim meets and blast Orange Crush or The One I Love, belting “Fireeeee!” at the appropriate time, not exactly reading the room to see if everyone else seemed it was an appropriate soundtrack every single time. Surely my enthusiasm for Athens’ Fab Four could not be met by my fellow swimmers. If I had known how to tone down my personality at the time, I might have. Then again, I don’t remember hearing any complaints. Perhaps I was delusional. Also quite possible.

The Monster In The Room

All this prologue is to wind up the pitch to September 27, 1994. I’d had my license for a little under a year and freedom reigned supreme in my bitchin’ teal Toyota Tercel. A couple days (maybe it was weeks) prior to Monster’s release, I made it known to all my friends and acquaintances that I’d be going to Strawberries Record Store in Avon the moment it opened on the 27th to purchase R.E.M.’s latest masterpiece the day it came out. Did anyone want to give me money to purchase a CD for them? I was more than happy to oblige.

The trip wasn’t far but it did mean that I would have to cut first period. As Seniors, we could do that sort of thing. I probably scheduled a study hall in the mornings so I could be late to school without question. Or maybe it was literally any other class. I have no earthly idea. Did I mention this was 25 years ago?

Regardless, I had one taker. A friend on the swim team who was two years my junior (which made him a new sophomore). His code name was Trunk Boy, and he was also a huge R.E.M. fan. I do believe that was mostly my doing. Trunk Boy slapped $18 in my hand — yeah, I do believe brand new albums on CD were really that expensive back then — and when the blessed day came, I drove off that morning for what I imagined could be nothing short of another perfect album.

I walked into Strawberries alone. Much to my pleasant surprise, there was a very large pyramid stack of Monster CDs on display right at the front of the store. I picked up two, quite unceremoniously, and paid for them at the counter. Whoever rang me up did not seem impressed or in awe of me for being the first to buy. Why? Because it wasn’t as big a fucking deal as I’d made it out to be. But it was to me. So I stand by it. It was to me.

I drove to school that morning slower than I ever had. I listened to the entire album and was blown away. Though I knew from the very first listen that it couldn’t hold a candle to Automatic, Monster was still an incredible feat of wonder.

From the first smashing guitar riff of What’s The Frequency, Kenneth? you could tell this was not going to be another sorrowful dirge. Of course, I’d already heard Kenneth dozens of times since the single released a few weeks prior. And as weird as the song’s plot line was — the absurdist, eccentric refrain (which is also your Benzedrine) was something Dan Rather’s one-time attacker shouted down at him as he was beating him senseless — the hard but upbeat mood the melody set was undeniably REMian.

Crush With Eyeliner and King of Comedy were not my first insights that other sexualities existed (I’m straight, I’m queer, I’m bi), but they did do a little leg work toward preparing me to accept other lifestyle choices, thereby being small but dear companion, formative artistry pieces that allowed me to be open to some wonderful people in years to come. People I still call friends today. Maybe that’s all a bit much to put on the back of one or two songs. But the transitional message is not not there.

Every other loud, sweet song rocked me, thrilled me, or set my thoughts adrift. Let Me In, a heartbreaking lament for both Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix, Stipe’s friends who died during the production of Monster, is one that still slays me.

I adore Strange Currencies.

I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance
A word, a signal, a nod, a little breath
Just to fool myself, to catch myself, to make it real, real

These words. They will be mine, and I adore them.

I won’t go through the rest of the album just because I think I’d rather go listen to it now. I’ve played it countless times over the last quarter century. And I do intend to keep enjoying it for years and years to come. Because this, my friend, was one precious mark at the end of my childhood. I didn’t know it then, but I know it all too well now.

And you know what? There are worse albums to go out on.

Let the sun beat through the clouds, let me kiss you on the mouth
All my childhood toys with chew marks in your smile
Let me hold your syrup close to mine
Let me watch you, Hollywood and Vine
And I want you like the movies, touch me now

I love you crazy, just keep on
I love you madly, just keep watch
You wipe my lips, you turn me on
My attentions are turned to you