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.
