Run a carbon black test on my jaw.

(This post is by Yosha)

This is a post about R.E.M., a band I resisted listening to for years and then suddenly discovered that I loved, and that has now become unbearable to keep up with any longer.

R.E.M. is one of those acquired tastes that many people will never acquire simply because they refuse to try. Or, as in the case of my cohost, because listening to Michael Stipe's voice has the same effect on them as eating bad clams. There's no question that his voice is at the center of the music; to dislike one is to dislike the other. But, like Stilton cheese -- which I recently discovered tastes fantastic after many years of shuddering at it from a distance -- what may seem repugnant to the uninitiated (eww! you're actually eating BLUE MOLD?) often turns out to be a pungent delicacy if you give it a chance.

It didn't help that my first exposure to R.E.M. was the execrable "Shiny Happy People", which remains one of their most serious blunders (and serves as the nth reminder that popularity on mainstream radio is a piss-poor yardstick of quality). That piece of crap was enough to keep me away for a long time. Then, shortly before I graduated from high school in 1992, I relaxed enough to listen to a tape of Automatic For The People that my first girlfriend left behind at my house one weekend. I can pinpoint the exact moment I shifted from just barely tolerating R.E.M. to going "Okay . . this is good." The song was "Sweetness Follows", the last number on side one and still one of my favorites. Stipe sang "It's these little things, they can pull you under/ Live your life filled with joy and thunder." It was the kind of moment that I think all good art is ultimately about: the shock of recognition. I understood exactly what it meant, because I'd felt it too -- even if I didn't have the words before. Now I did. I had the words and the melody and the stormscape of guitar and organ. Yeah!

From there, it was a very steep slope down into fandom. The more of their stuff I heard, the more impressed I was. I'd never heard anything like it. Still haven't. The originality impressed me, and so did the fearlessness -- they didn't seem to be concerned with what other people wanted or expected. The language they used, both lyrically and musically, seemed drawn directly from intuition rather than reconstituted into a more socially accessible form. It was, in other words, authentic.

Most people will tell you that Automatic is their finest hour, and it may be; I place it near the top, certainly, but for me their best album will probably always be Green. Their intuitive accuracy is breathtaking; it feels like it's drawn directly from my dreams and childhood visions. Songs like "Hairshirt" and "The Wrong Child" use the English language in entirely new ways, and Stipe embraces all the peculiarities of his voice without reservation. You may listen to the same music I did and not feel the power of it in the same way; I wouldn't be a bit surprised. An acquired taste, to be sure. That's okay. I'm fine with having this experience be a personal one.

The last good album they made was Up, which got slammed by the critics for being chilly and depressing. I thought it was brilliant. They handled the absence of drummer Bill Berry with a grace I wouldn't have thought possible. The album is almost entirely free of percussion except for drum machines, and they don't try to cover up the difference of the sound; instead, they embrace the change, while maintaining their clarity and originality of voice. And yes, the waters get dark. That's not a bad thing at all. The mid-album trifecta of "The Apologist", "Sad Professor" and "You're In The Air" is overwhelming in its power. Like all R.E.M. albums, there is at least one dud; a byproduct, perhaps, of fearless experimentation. Up has several, most notably the treaclefest of "Why Not Smile". Still, it's an amazing album.

After that, something went horribly wrong. Reveal was a mistake, plain and simple. They rehashed their old melodies behind trite lyrics that held no mystery, no ache or real feeling. It was so embarrassing that I actually returned the CD to the store for two dollars rather than keep it. And on the Future Soundtrack for America benefit compilation, their contribution ("Final Straw") was almost the most painful moment (only the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were worse). It's beyond sad for a fan like me to hear Michael Stipe reduce himself to letter-to-the-editor-style political oration, dreadfully earnest and coherent and clich�d. So that's it. That's all for me. I'm sticking to the back catalog from now on, and screw this Bono shit.