JUSTIN’S R.E.M. STORY

ABRIDGED VERSION

I graduated high school in 1987 and listened to R.E.M. all summer long — four albums taped on two cassettes and played on a crappy boombox. By the time I arrived at Wesleyan for frosh year, just days before Document was released, a band that had merely seemed interesting had become a band that quietly organized my world. A guy in my dorm and I split custody of the $16 Document CD because neither of us could afford it alone; six weeks later we saw the Work Tour’s stop in New Haven and felt present for something undeniable, something unfolding in real time. I’ll never forget the entire audience standing on their chairs for the entire show.

Unexpectedly I wound up transferring schools the following year, but a stray phone call the next summer revealed something I hadn’t fully realized about myself. When an old classmate from Wesleyan struggled to guess who was calling him and finally exclaimed, “All you had to say was ‘R.E.M.’ and I’d have known immediately!” — in that instant I realized the band had become shorthand for who I was in those formative years. Not because of a favorite song or album, but because R.E.M.’s early music accompanied my first independence, my chosen friendships, my first stabs at figuring out how I might fit into the world. The band didn’t define me, but their music was my constant companion on the road to defining myself.

UNABRIDGED VERSION

My story flowed out of me after reading about the Shannon/Narducy tribute tour for Lifes Rich Pageant. From Paste Magazine: “Narducy’s told so many people about his love of Document that it’s become one of his defining character traits. (And who could blame him? ‘It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)’ is a glorious madcap overload worth building a personality around.)”

Defining character trait. Building a personality around. Boy, can I relate.

I graduated high school in 1987. The summer before senior year is when Pageant came out, and for the only time ever I asked my dad for this favor; he picked up a copy for me at the store near his office. I’d liked “Driver 8” when I heard it on the radio… I liked Pageant just fine… but Summer ’87 is when R.E.M. finally clicked for me: Truly-madly-deeply. I was a camp counselor that summer in Wisconsin, and two of the few homemade cassettes I brought with me were Murmur/Reckoning on one, Fables/Pageant on another. Those two tapes on a crappy boombox dominated my listening and cemented a fandom that by summer’s end was an obsession.

That fall I started college at Wesleyan in Connecticut, and Document was released the last day of August — Welcome Week. I moved into a men’s dorm, and getting to know the guys on my hall it was clear there were U2 guys, R.E.M. guys, and guys not so into music. I bonded instantly with Dan across the hall; we both were counting down the days till Document‘s release. On the big day we took the long walk into town together, beelining for the overpriced mall store I think I patronized only that one time. The CD cost $16, and Dan & I each had eight bucks. We split custody and each took it for a day at a time, agreeing that at the end of the year, one would buy out the other. We both loved the album, and six weeks after its release, Dan and I plus a half-dozen other Wes frosh had our minds blown by R.E.M. on the Work Tour in New Haven — first time for everyone. R.E.M. was on the cover of Rolling Stone; these were halcyon days. (Earlier in high school I thought I’d been born 20 years too late; I wished I could’ve been a teenager when the Beatles hit America. In 1987/’88, I envied people born in the early ’60s — those lucky souls were in college when R.E.M. was first criss-crossing the country in a van. We always want what we have not got.)

Cut to the summer of ’89. Sadly, Wesleyan & I were not meant to be. I finished frosh year, but wound up transferring to a more affordable Big Ten school. When I left Wesleyan in May ’88, I had every intention of returning; when I didn’t, I was one of those kids who seemed to just :::poof::: — disappear. One of my best friends at Wesleyan was Ron, a junior who played guitar in a campus band I loved who were, shockingly, very influenced by R.E.M. (At that time it would be more shocking for a college-rock band to not be.) Ron was from Queens and had invited me to visit NYC that summer. He had a summer job and there was one day when I was left to my own devices. I had my address book, and it included a few phone numbers of folks from Wesleyan I’d lost touch with. I was 20 years old; I used to do this thing where I’d call up someone from my (limited) past and, if they were game, have them guess who it was calling them. This guy Josh was game. He agreed to ask me Y/N questions, trying to figure out my identity. He asked me 5 or 6 questions; he was so terrible at this game that I started just giving him hints. Still he had no idea who I was. Finally I just told him. “JUSTIN!!” he exclaimed. “All you had to say was ‘R.E.M.’ and I would have gotten it instantly!” Josh’s offhand comment left an indelible impression on me. He reminded me that I was so hopped-up about R.E.M. during this period that I seemingly worked the band into every conversation I had.

That’s my story, but I now realize I haven’t talked about WHY the band made such an impact. I could explore that in another 1000 words, but will just say here that R.E.M. was my introduction to the underground. Not just in music, not just the music business, but they represented new ways of doing things, new ways of thinking, of being, somehow. I don’t credit R.E.M. with anything as profound as actually shaping or defining my personality. But they were my constant companion as I came of age. They were with me in very formative years when I was kind of vulnerable and figuring out how I might fit into the adult world…