J. Niimi - R.E.M.s Murmur

MurmurPraise for the series: Passionate, obsessive, and smart Nylon Religious tracts for the rocknroll faithful Boldtype Each volume has a distinct, almost militantly personal take on a beloved long-player... the books that have resulted are like the albums themselvesfilled with mo ments of shimmering beauty, forgivable flaws, and stub born eccentricity Tracks Magazine At their best, these books make rich, thought-provoking arguments for the song collections at hand The Phila-delphia Inquirer Reading about rock isnt quite the same as listening to it, but this series comes pretty damn close Neon NYC The sort of great idea you cant believe hasnt been done before Boston PhoenixFor reviews of individual titles in the series, pleasevisit our website at www.continuumbooks.comThis page intentionally left blankMurmurJ. Niimi 2005 The Continuum International Publishing Group Inc 15 East 26 Street, New York, NY 10010 The Continuum International Publishing Group Ltd The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX www.continuumbooks.com Copyright 2005 by J. Niimi All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers. Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Niimi, J.

Murmur / J. Niimi. p. cm. (33 1/3) ISBN-13: 978-1-4411-5273-2 1. (Musical group). Murmur. 2. R.E.M. (Musical group) I. Title. II. Series. Series.

ML421.R22N55 2005 782.42166'092'2dc22 2005002116 CONTENTS v Also available in this series:Dusty in Memphis, by Warren Zanes Forever Changes, by Andrew Hultkrans Harvest, by Sam Inglis The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society, by Andy Miller Meat Is Murder, by Joe Pernice The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, by John Cavanagh Abba Gold, by Elisabeth Vincentelli Electric Ladyland, by John Perry Unknown Pleasures, by Chris Ott Sign O the Times, by Michaelangelo Matos The Velvet Underground and Nico, by Joe Harvard Let It Be, by Steve Matteo Live at the Apollo, by Douglas Wolk Aqualung, by Allan Moore OK Computer, by Dai Griffiths Let It Be, by Colin Meloy Led Zeppelin IV, by Erik Davis Armed Forces, by Franklin Bruno Exile on Main Street, by Bill Janovitz Grace, by Daphne Brooks Loveless, by Mike McGonigal Pet Sounds, by Jim Fusilli Ramones, by Nicholas Rombes Forthcoming in this series:Born in the USA, by Geoff Himes Endtroducing... , by Eliot Wilder In the Aeroplane over the Sea, by Kim Cooper London Calling, by David Ulin Low, by Hugo Wilcken Kick out the Jams, by Don McLeese The Notorious Byrd Brothers, by Ric Menck ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many thanks go out to Don Dixon and Mitch Easter, who graciously took time out from the business of shaping American pop music to accommodate me when I induced them to sit on their laurels for a minute. Im grateful for their intelligence, honesty, and generosity. I also want to thank my friend Seth Sanders, who used to write about rock music but then got bored, and, looking into his boredom the way he used to look into rock, he now writes about God exclusively. Then theres Mike OFlaherty, who continually makes me think he could write a better book about almost any idea I come up with, which instead of making me hate him, makes him the most valuable friend anyone could hope to havethanks, Mike, for all your amazing help. I would also like to thank my editor, David Barker, for his enthusiasm and editorial aplomb, and Gabriella Page-Fort at Continuum. Last but not least, thanks go out to Jay Williams at Critical Inquiry for help-ing iron out portions of the book, Robert Muhlbock for supplying crucial research materials, Andy Creighton for his crafty ears, my cohorts at the University of Chicago vii J.

NIIMI Library for their patience and understanding, and Melissa Maerz for her ongoing encouragement. And finally, a warm thanks to my family, who have always been there for me through thick and thin, and a special thanks to Tami, who makes me believe everything is possible and good. viii Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. Plato, Ion R.E.M. is part lies, part heart, part truth and part garbage. Peter Buck Tell all the Truth but tell it slant Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truths superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind Emily Dickinson ix J.

NIIMI Dont dissect us in a clinical, linear way; come at it from somewhere else. Michael Stipe Poetry is nobodys business except the poets, and everybody else can fuck off. Philip Larkin This is a book about a record. But its also a book about a life that adopted that record as a kind of soundtrack. By which this life discovered some of its narrative, its trajectory, its set pieces and blocking, its phraseology and drama, on a stage that made sense when sense itself was theater. This book is to that record as film is to the stage, as memory is to sound.

The story doesnt get any tidier, unfortunately, be cause this book is also kind of a soundtrack in and of itself, a soundtrack to a pretend film about the life that produced the book. This is a play that begins when the curtains close and the orchestra retires, and instead of coming up, the lights fade out. To begin with, one thing this book definitely is not is a straightforward biography of the band. There are already plenty of those out there to choose from, comprehensive works which I couldnt improve on or add anything to if I tried. But thats an entirely different imperative anyway, because this book is less contingent on the lives of the members of the band than it is on the life of its author, and thats a fatal premise for a biography. x MURMUR But isnt that how we feel about records we lovethat without us, they wouldnt exist? That they continue to mediate your existence, even after you shut off the stereo, shelve the record, outgrow the band? Fandom of this kind knows that if a tree fell in a forest with no one around to hear it, not only would it not make a sound, it wouldnt have been there in the first place.

A soundtrack inextricable from the life living it. We thought the forest into existence. As Francisco Varela once wrote, Every act of knowing brings forth a world. I made Murmur as much as it made me. Such that its hard to tell whats been made, subject from object, the maker from the predicate, the beholder from the beholden. When I started writing this book, I worried that I wouldnt be able to hear this album with selfish fourteen-year-old ears againor worse, that Id have no choice but to.