I read about R.E.M. before I actually heard their music. As a fifteen-year-old outsider who was obsessed with the Velvet Underground, I knew my tastes were a little left-of-center. I was an avid reader of the monthly new wave/underground magazine Trouser Press, and I felt that that was my connection to learning about new bands that were making good music and maybe not grabbing the headlines or coverage in major music mags that they were deserving of.

In a 1983 issue of that magazine, I read a lengthy article about a new Athens, GA band called R.E.M. The headline for the article was “Really Exciting Music,” if I remember correctly, and that of course piqued my curiosity. Growing up in Tampa, Florida, it wasn’t very easy to hear up-and-coming bands on the radio or to be exposed to them at all, save for a great local community radio station and the array of cool record stores in the area. Never having heard of R.E.M., I was drawn to the article and read it completely. What struck me the most, other than the seeming mystery and intrigue of the band’s lyrics as described in the piece, was the revelation that the band members were also huge fans of the Velvet Underground! It was even revealed that they’d recorded a cover of VU’s “There She Goes Again.” This alone was plenty of reason enough for me to seek out this band and their records.

Not long after, I did my usual crawl through my local mall’s record stores with a few bucks in my pocket, so I could stare at and drool over all the records I wanted but knew I couldn’t afford. On the new release display inside the mall’s Camelot Music shop was R.E.M.’s Murmur LP. I couldn’t believe it. And, making it more attractive to me was the $4.99 “On Sale” sticker that was slapped on the shrinkwrap of the record. I dug into all of the pockets I had and was able to scrape up enough to cover the price of the record-plus-sales tax. I took the record home and stared at it for a while before putting it on my little all-in-one stereo system. Although a bit dismayed that the VU cover didn’t make it onto the record, I soon forgave that omission once I got lost in the grooves of the record and all of the band’s original songs.

It was an almost hypnotic experience. As busy as I was trying to decipher Michael Stipe’s words, I was equally entranced by the backing vocals Mike Mills supplied, and that warm, inviting, jangly guitar sound Peter Buck wove into each of the songs. I played Side One of the album multiple times because I was so taken by the run of songs that made up that side. Each of those hooks inhabited plenty of real estate in my brain and in my consciousness, and I soon found myself singing along to the words and sounds, most of which I didn’t really comprehend. The album soon became one of my regular spins as soon as I’d get home from school, and late into the evening hours (when I should have probably been doing homework). I was hooked. I loved this band and wanted to know everything about them.

The following year, R.E.M. came to town to play an outdoor show at our local university’s soccer field for the whopping ticket price of $5. I asked everyone I knew (and some I didn’t know at all) for a ride to the show, as I didn’t have my own transportation, but came up empty. The first chance I had to see this new favorite band of mine, while they were out supporting their second album, Reckoning, was not to be. I missed out on it, sadly.

But patience and perseverance paid off. After what seemed like an eternity, I had another chance the next time the band came to the area. It was 1985, I was out of high school, had a full time job and, most importantly, my own ride. Having a car meant I could go to any record store of my choice, at any time, and spend as long as I’d like browsing through it without one of my parents, who were waiting for me in their car, poking their heads into the front door and shouting “Are you done yet?” as had embarrassingly happened to me many times throughout my adolescence.

The band was scheduled to play at the Bayfront Theater, located in the adjoining city of St. Petersburg, which was just over the bridge from my town. They were supporting Fables Of The Reconstruction and had the Minutemen on the road with them as their opening band. Finally! A chance to see this band I’d become so enamored with had arrived. I went to the show by myself because, just like with the Velvet Underground, I knew no one who’d heard of or cared about R.E.M.

The show was everything I’d hoped for and more. The band’s music came alive in a way that wasn’t fully captured in their recordings. It was such a blast of energy hearing and seeing these guys play their hearts out on the small stage with a group of fellow followers who were clearly older than me. I felt at home. I felt like I belonged and I enjoyed every second of it.

After the show, a small group of fans assembled outside the stage door of the theater to get the chance to meet the band members. Peter Buck and Mike Mills came out individually and were more than gracious with the small throng of fans, signing autographs and posing for pictures taken with the small Disc cameras some of the concertgoers snuck into the show, in the days when cameras were strictly forbidden at concerts.

I really wanted the chance to meet Michael Stipe to let him know how intrigued I was by him and how much I loved the lyrics I thought I understood. In a move of surprising boldness, I opened the stage door (which was unlocked) and walked into the theater, only to find Michael near the rows of seats that lined the theater. I slowly approached him and introduced myself to him before launching into the typical “I love your music, you changed my life” diatribe that musicians often hear. He was friendly and kind and chatted with me for several minutes. I felt totally comfortable around him, and started to engage with him as more of a peer than a rock star type. I told him what originally drew me to his band was the mention of the Velvet Underground in that first article I read about them, and proceeded to tell him how isolated and alone I felt in that I knew NO ONE who had heard of, let alone listened to, Lou Reed’s old band. I even confessed to him how crappy it felt to get made fun of and ostracized for my taste in music by my contemporaries. He proceeded to give me the advice I’d waited so long to hear from someone: “Fuck those people!” he said, before telling me how he’d felt the same type of separation from his schoolmates while growing up a Patti Smith fan.

At last, I felt empowered and at peace with the isolation that had confused and saddened me for so long. I have Michael Stipe to thank for giving me the courage to “walk unafraid” and to be comfortable with my freakiness and my musical passions. For this reason, and for so many more, R.E.M. remained (and continues to be) a favorite band of mine. I felt less alone knowing that there were others out in the world like me, who I’d get to meet and socialize with in time, and I have these four guys from Athens to thank for allowing me to be comfortable in my own skin, and to provide so much great music for me to listen to and absorb.

GABE ECHAZABAL is a lifelong music fan who has been collecting records since the age of 14. He’s a veteran indie record store employee and a freelance music writer and DJ.

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