I'm a reporter for the White County News in Cleveland, Georgia. This is a column I wrote about R.E.M.'s breakup. I'd like to share it with you.
Deb’s column Nov. 17
Not the end of the world
You know you’re getting old when music that seemed cutting-edge only yesterday is now an object of nostalgia.
1991 was a pivotal year for what was then known as alternative music, and today the record industry is cashing in on fans’ yearning to recapture those glory days.
A 20th-anniversary edition of Nirvana’s Nevermind, one of the most influential albums in modern rock history, was recently released. U2 is promoting a super-expensive boxed set for the 20th anniversary of its groundbreaking album Achtung Baby, and there’s also a new documentary, From the Sky Down, about the making of the album.
I love both of those records. But for me, the most important album released in 1991 was R.E.M.’s Out of Time. That record introduced me to the band and sent me on a voyage of discovery that continued until Sept. 21, 2011.
That was the day R.E.M. quietly posted on their website that after 31 years as a band, they were “calling it a day.”
I was disheartened, but not surprised. Eight months ago in this column, I reviewed their latest studio album, Collapse Into Now. It’s a fine piece of work, but from the way the songs deliberately referenced and summarized musical highlights from throughout R.E.M.’s career, I sensed that they were saying, “We’re wrapping this up, folks.”
And when they refused to tour or make any promotional appearances for Collapse Into Now, I could see the handwriting on the wall.
Predictably, most of the news reports about R.E.M.’s breakup borrowed the title from one of the band’s best-known songs, “It’s the End of the World As We Know It … And I Feel Fine.”
I tried to tell myself it wasn’t the end of the world. I have all of the band’s recordings and videos and can continue to enjoy them. But it was hard to conceive of a world without R.E.M.
Can you be a fan of a defunct band? Sure. I’ll always love Nirvana, which came to an abrupt end when Kurt Cobain died in 1994. And I’m a huge fan of the Beatles.
But everything we appreciate about the Beatles is based on albums, films and photos that were made in the 1960s. They are a band frozen in time. Two of the members are dead, so there’s no possibility of a reunion.
The members of R.E.M., on the other hand, are alive and well. Yet the group has ceased to exist as a legal entity. At the end of this year, their office in Athens – staffed by some of the friendliest people you could ever hope to meet – will be closed.
This is a unique situation. Almost every band that has ever broken up has done so because of something negative: death, addiction, clashing egos, “creative differences.”
But characteristically, R.E.M. chose to end it on their own terms. It turns out that the three members – Michael Stipe, Peter Buck and Mike Mills – had been discussing this among themselves for about three years. No one else – their staff, close friends, families – knew what they were planning until right before they made the announcement.
Nothing’s wrong, they insisted. They don’t hate each other. They don’t feel the quality of their work has gone downhill. They simply believe the band has achieved all of its artistic goals and there’s nothing more they need to accomplish.
Naturally, I was suspicious. It sounded like when a politician resigns in order to “spend more time with family.”
But then I saw Mike and Michael doing interviews to promote R.E.M.’s 40-track “best of” album, which was released this week.
They looked happy and relaxed. They still finish each other’s sentences and communicate through silent glances. It was clear there’s no animosity between them and they’re at peace with their decision.
And if they’re okay with it, then so am I. It is not the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine.