I was a Vanderbilt undergraduate in 1982 when I first heard “Radio Free Europe” blasting over the WRVU airwaves. I was smitten and thought, “This must be what it felt like to hear the Beatles for the first time.” I eagerly volunteered to be the bartender at the local release party for their debut EP, Chronic Town. Well, bartender is an exaggeration; I opened beer cans for the band members and a couple dozen fans before the band performed an amazing show at the Sarratt Student Center.
At a time when classmates were traveling across the country to catch Grateful Dead shows, I decided to follow R.E.M. to Memphis for their performance the next night. Trouble was, I didn’t have a car. I asked around. One friend said, “Sure, I’ll go with you to see REO Speedwagon!” When I clarified that the band was called R.E.M., she declined the invitation.
A more adventurous friend, Helene Rufty, was amenable. We hit the road and arrived at the Antenna Club in time for the band to take the stage — only to be kicked out of the small room, along with most of the audience, by the fire marshal. The fledgling band had far more fans than the club had space.
Feeling emboldened by the fact that I’d served them beer the night before, I — along with Helene and a Memphis friend, Rob Harp — followed the guys backstage. We hung out there until the band and a smaller audience were allowed to return. A highlight: dancing with Rob and Michael Stipe, who jumped down from the stage while singing “We Walk,” which would appear on Murmur the following year.
In the fall of 1983, I was studying in Madrid. For Thanksgiving break, I took a train to Paris. As I wandered the streets, I saw posters for “R.E.M.” My first thought was, “Funny, there’s a French band with the same name as the band from Georgia.” This was pre-internet, and the signage was, not surprisingly, opaque: no names, no photos.
In my nonexistent French, I went to a place that sold concert tickets — paper, of course — and asked a long-shot question: Was this an American band? Upon confirmation that it was, I bought a ticket. I splurged and hired a taxi to take me to the venue, Les Bains Douches, which I later learned was a famed nightclub that frequently hosted New Wave bands, including Depeche Mode.
Alas, R.E.M. apparently did not meet the expectations of the club management. After a song or two, a club employee told the band to stop and literally pulled the plug when they didn’t. That led Michael Stipe to sing an a cappella version of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
The dejected band members, performing on the European continent for the first time, invited the handful of Americans in the audience to join them backstage. I, along with four University of Georgia students, proceeded to spend Thanksgiving evening with the guys, each of whom signed the murky poster that had alerted me to their arrival. (Michael’s “signature” was a sketch of a world map.)
The last time I saw the band was when they performed at Voodoo Fest in my hometown, New Orleans, on November 1, 2008. In a city still recovering from Hurricane Katrina, the crowd was sparse, and I was able to walk up to the edge of the stage, just as I had 26 years earlier in Tennessee. It would turn out to be the band’s final full-length concert in the United States. Their final appearance in France had been two months earlier, in front of an audience of 40,000 people.
HAYES FERGUSON is a professor of entrepreneurship and innovation at Northwestern University. Earlier, she was a journalist and a music-show host at multiple public radio stations, including WRVU, WTUL, WWOZ and WXPN.
Shirt from the Vanderbilt show:
Also see Box 13 on The SPIRAL!
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