Getting Here From There

It started with Metallica, and has often been the case, it was all Dan's fault. He had an interview disc and Lars was talking about 'some weird folk band' that James had been listening to: R.E.M. So Dan went out and bought the first thing of theirs that was out - Document, and The One I love, and End of the World on the car stereo were my introductions, sometime in '87 I guess.

It didn't take. Not immediately. There was another year before then, one afternoon late in '88, painting skirting boards for a guy I was working for. Orange Crush on Radio 1. That blew my mind.

'89 was all about Green being played on South African Radio 5. Sitting in our breeze block house at Uzumba Secondary School (Murewa, Zimbabwe) on a Saturday, tuning in on Anna's tiny FM radio, listening out for Stand, Pop Song '89, World Leader Pretend, Get Up. When I got back to the UK in September the Green tour was over. So until Out of Time came out I would frequent the Wednesday record fair picking up the back catalogue on vinyl.

Of all those records, it was hearing Life's Rich Pageant on tape in Canada, staying with my old childhood friend Chris, that lingers longest. To this day it's my favourite album, Hyena still my all time favourite R.E.M. song.

Since Out of Time I've gone on to buy every album on the day of release, and most of the singles too, especially when they were on vinyl. That's one of the things I'll miss the most; the excitement of a new R.E.M. song. Hearing the new songs for the first time. I still remember Jo Whiley playing ...Kenneth late one Friday night in my bedroom in Tooting, hearing Daysleeper whilst working at the Print Shop in Tooting, The Great Beyond on a promo Ant brought back from the record store, Bouncing all over the office when that first clip of Living Well popped up on the 'net.

Not every album has been a classic, but I love each and every one for different reasons, different memories, different places and different people. And with only one exception (Around The Sun) they were all still really good. Really really good.

It's not all been wine and roses. Up was an album that bookmarked a bad patch and for some reason a lot of ironing. Leaving New York kept me going when a good friend was in hospital.

I didn't get to see the band live until the day before my 25th birthday, the Monster tour at Milton Keynes Bowl. They sucked. No matter how much I want to remember the show as a blazing baptism of brilliance, I can't. Since then I've seen them a further 8 times (Glastonbury twice, Isle of Wight festival, Hyde Park, St James's Church, the Royal Albert Hall, Twickenham Stadium, The Hammersmith Odeon) and they never ever disappointed me again.

Once they undertook the Greatest Hits tour, dusted off the classics, they seemed to ease up as a band and became the whirling dervish of a live act that I saw all those times. Whether in front of 200 or 20000 they remained one of the most intense, fun and interesting live bands I've ever seen (and I've seen more than my and your share). For all those who detracted them, on stage they were peerless; changing the set lists regularly, playing around with the songs. Those stand out moments so many: bouncing across the Isle of White to These Days with my god-daughter on my shoulders, Patti Smith turning in a jaw dropping E-Bow at Hyde Park, Thom Yorke doing the same in a small church in Picadilly, Man on the Moon at Glastonbury, Perfect Circle at Twickenham. And with the exception of Hyena, I think I've seen them play most of my favourite songs live. I'm not sure I can forgive them for that omission though  : )

It's that I'll never see them live again that hurts the most. My one regret, perhaps.The greatest loss.

And beyond the music, beyond the shows, beyond the words and beyond the flack, I'm left with these last thoughts on a band I've spent almost 24 years listening to, over half my life, my favourite band of all time:

They were funny. Check out Furry Happy Monsters if you don't believe me.

They were innovative in interacting with their fans and friends over the net, especially around the last two records. They gave back, they didn't hoard our memories of their work. Even when re-releasing old albums or compilations, the liner notes and extras gave the dust-off an added bonus for those looking to add a third or fourth copy of the record to our collections.

And damn, I was an idiot to let my fan-club subscription lapse, but I'll cherish those three Christmas packages.

Being able to interview Bertis Downs when I used to blog with Londonist was a high point in my brief foray into serious blogging - the man was a true gent.

And I got that interview through one event that really blew me away. Sitting on my boat in the summer of 2004, recently redundant, paid off, enjoying a new life and, at the time, quite stoned, my mobile phone rang. It was Dave from the fan-club. I'd won two tickets in a raffle for a fan-club show at St James's Church in Picadilly to be recorded for radio. My old email had bounced, they hadn't been able to tell me I'd won. But they didn't let it go and move on to the next guy, they checked my details, pulled my phone number and rang me. All the way from Athens. Ant and I floated home from that show, let me tell you. God bless you Dave; and for returning my call a year later when I tried to blag an interview with the band. And for putting Bertis on, you didn't have to do any of that. But it epitomises to me what the band were and all that was around them.

I wasn't surprised when I heard the news. I wasn't upset. We'd played a pretty good version of Man on the Moon in the band that evening. It just kinda seemed to be.

It ended in the HMV in Victoria Station on a Monday morning on the way to a meeting. Buying my last R.E.M. record on its day of release. 24 years later; over half my life - spanning three continents, tape to vinyl to CD and DVD, more memories than could ever be collected in a few words, more memories sounds thoughts feelings than anyone should ever be able to leave behind on a total stranger.

My box would be full of Micronauts

A couple of weeks ago Patrick sent me this video from the Onion AV Club with the heading - You will never be as happy as this man and his box of toys (to which I think there's a somewhat sad truth):



Anyways, it sparked a ponderings of what would be in our respective boxes, Action Man, Transformers? Well mine would be Micronauts. A big box of all the original Micronauts toys, and if I were to be granted complete ecstasy, the comics too.

I remember seeing Micronauts toys for the first time at the home of friends of my parents. There was this cool looking giant robot and a run of track and bubble domes that just blew what I guess must have been my six year old mind. There were all sorts of connectable bits and pieces that riffed on the build yourselves worlds of mechano and lego but with these strange translucent figures and all sorts of space vehicles. It spoke of an fully formed universe, of invention, of imagination (ok - I'm putting thoughts into that six year old mind) and it had an awesome logo.



That's how I knew what they were, the kid had kept the boxes.

A little later something awesome happened. My next door neighbour and best mate (as is the way when you're six and still have a coal bunker to climb over the fence on) got what to my mind might still be one of the best presents ever. Baron Karza, Force Commander and their respective steeds Andromeda and Oberon. These guys looked cool. They still look cool and they looked cool way before Darth and his Stormtroopers looked cool like they looked like BK and the FC cool. And Darth and the others never had horses that could be made into centaurs through the power of magnetic joints. And they fired rockets from their chests, and they fired their fists. We're talking massively awesome now. Did toys ever get better than this? NO. It took years before Star Wars figures ever had that kind of mobility. In all honesty SW figures sucked, and continue to do so against how much more you could do with the Micronauts.

Oh yeah, there was probably an Acroyear or two there, and who knows what else. But on that day I first set my eyes on them, I also set my heart on this quartet of interchangeable amazingness and it's never left. Not really.

I got my first Micronaut in a toy shop in Nottingham whilst on holiday with my grandparents. I got a Time Traveler that I still have (go me!) and Microtron who never made it through the moves, or the rough and tumble of childhood. I don't know why it was Microtron, it may have been all they had in the shop at the time. I seem also to remember that Star Wars had come out by then and I was also dreaming of the Millenium Falcon, but more of that maybe another time.

I don't remember exactly when I got Baron Karza, possibly also visiting granny and grandpa. That was a moment. And I don't remember when I lost him. Somewhere down the line in Canada I also picked up a Pharoid and Repto. The former survived, the latter didn't (unless of course, they're hiding in my parents' loft waiting for my squeals of delighted discovery). So FC and the horses never made it but my door is always open should they wish to show themselves.

Editor's note - I did pick up another Baron Karza at school, swapping him for a Scorpozoid which makes that one of the better deals I've pulled off. Baron 2 has been very carefully looked after since then!

So even though that makes five toys out of a stunning range of many - you count 'em - I never lost hope that one day I'd have 'em all. Even as they disappeared from my life, I never stopped loving them. Perhaps it was just a few early memories infused with childlike potential and amazement that have lingered on, imbuing the name with a contented Pavlovian response.

Or perhaps it was because years later they came to life again in the Marvel comics series, which I avidly collected over my teenage years, picking up all the back issues until I had both series complete. Or maybe I loved the comics because I'd loved the toys. Anyway, it had the most devastating ending that just brought me to my knees. And years later in a pique of poverty, I sold them all at a pittance to be able to pay for presents or sort out a bill. I'd prefer the latter given the choice. So perhaps I can't separate them from some quasi-romantic sense of loss that you get when you're spending way too much time being some geeky shy kid instead of getting out there and talking to women. That's the nightmares of bad poetry and emo bands and I'm happy to report I came through on that one. At least I think I did!

Or perhaps it was because they were genuinely an incredible toy range, providing scope to build cities, fight space battles or have good and evil clash in some manga infused cyberpunk Greek myth mash up. And no matter how clunky some of them look to 21st Century eyes, they maintain a wonderful sense of a toy that could both be a joy in creation and exploration as much as in acting out youthful games of destruction.

Or to put it another way, perhaps it was just because the ROCKED.

And to this day I still hope that this mythical box of Micronauts will one day appear on my doorstep.

Campsite Envy

Conversation heard on my birthday whilst lying in my portable hammock:

Man: I must get me one of those
Woman: You're really into your camping gadgets aren't you
Man: That's not a gadget

I've had my first taste of enjoying someone else's campsite envy - insert appropriate smiley here.

Oh, it's been a while. I've made some changes.