Supernatural Supergroovy: R.E.M. @ Merriweather
So you were at the big R.E.M. show last night?
Yea, verily.
How was it?
On balance -- awesome! The two Professional Journalists in my car rated it “a solid B” and a B+ on the way home. I might even go as high as an A-. It was the fifth time I’d seen R.E.M. perform a full set since 1995, and it was certainly the second-best, if not the best.
What was so good about it?
Well, the setlist was pretty agreeable. A generous 27 songs, a third of them from Accelerate, their sleek, fast new album; the others an eclectic career overview. Not much in the way of the super-oldies or super-rarities that some of the other shows this tour have apparently featured; nothing from Murmur. But they did play “Little America”, “Driver 8”, and of course, “(Don’t Go Back to) Rockville”. “Ignoreland”, from Automatic for the People, is not a song I ever suspected I would -- or particularly wanted to -- hear live, but it sounded good. Who knew it was about the 1979-80 Iranian hostage crisis?
Wait. “Ignoreland” is about that? How do you know?
Michael Stipe told us! And unlike the Stipe of prior tours, this one was completely animated, engaged, and well, friendly, actually! Those fake song introductions of eras past -- saying "George and Ira Gershwin wrote this in 1940" and then playing “Losing My Religion” or whatever -- were a product of the old, grumpy Stipe. But we got the bubbly, chatty, mugging and standing-on-his monitors Stipe. And it turns out the mischievous imp Stipe is a much easier guy to like than the grouchy bridge-troll Stipe.
Where can I learn more about the hostage crisis?
Mark Bowden’s 2006 book Guests of the Ayatollah is a comprehensive account of that event, and a really good read.
Did Mike Mills wear anything cool?
He put on a straw cowboy hat when he walked over to the center mic to sing a much-countrified “Rockville”. But otherwise, no, his onetime sartorial sassiness, sadly, seems somewhat subdued. Stipe wore a pretty sharp suit, though. A tie, even. And he kept wiping the sweat off of his bald pate with his hand and then flicking it into the crowd. "Have some D.N.A.," he said at one point.
Any jaw-dropping moments?
A few. The sheer speed and power of the opening four-song salvo, for one.
“Let Me In”, their reverb-drenched eulogy for Kurt Cobain from Monster, got revived as some kind of mountain spiritual thing, with all five players (including regular touring guitarist Scott McCaughey and drummer Bill Rieflin) huddled around together, and Stipe with his back to the audience -- like the bad old days of the Monster tour. It didn’t look like they had done that one in that way too many times, if at all, and it had the feeling of something extraordinary happening. It was the quietest number of the night, and of course the Bud Light-drinking jackholes with the VIP wristbands in the row in front of us yammered right through it. I hope Kurt haunted their nightmares last night.
How were The National?
Didn’t see ‘em; they went on at, like, 6:30. But Modest Mouse were great.
Anything else?
“Orange Crush” got a disco-flavored tune-up, courtesy of Riefland. A woman next to me asked, “What year did that song come out?” It was '88, but it sounded more ‘78. And awesome. That song is always great live, and always different.
Did Stipe wear that creepy blue Blade Runner facepaint over his eyes?
Negative. But he did sing “These Days”, which he has said in at least one interview was inspired by a fever dream he had during a four-day stretch in the middle ‘80s, when he was bedridden and blinded on account of having left his contact lenses in for something like three months. Scratched his corneas, he said. Gross!
In my ideal world, an experience like that would ultimately net you super powers, but Stipe did get a pretty sweet song out of it.
Political sloganeering?
What, you mean besides playing “Ignoreland”, “Man-Sized Wreath”, and “Little America” all together in a row? (“I wanted to get the patriotic set out of the way early,” Stipe quipped. He quipped a lot last night.)
Well, this isn’t a slogan, really, but after dedicating “Mr. Richards” to Dick Cheney, Stipe did say that he had something in his pocket that he was really excited about. (Yes, it does sound like a Gene Simmons line, or maybe a David Lee Roth line.) Then he pulled out an Obama button and pinned it to his lapel, to loud cheers and -- get this -- also a lot of boos. One guy in front of us seemed to put it together just in that one moment that R.E.M. are liberals. Which is not a closely guarded secret, really, if you’ve listened to, um, any record they've made since Life’s Rich Pageant.
Revelations?
Johnny Marr is aging much better than Peter Buck. And they play the same black Rickenbacker 360, perhaps because both instruments belong to Buck. (Marr joined in on “Fall on Me” and “Man on the Moon".)
Sacred cows slaughtered?
A big one: They didn’t play “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” at the end! I can totally understand R.E.M. not wanting to be predictable, but there are some traditions you just shouldn’t monkey with. There was a veritable storm of reverb hanging in the air after “Man on the Moon” ended, and it just felt like Riefland (who is a great drummer, by the way) was gonna hit that machine-gun snare burst, and they’d be off. But no. No “End of the World”. Which did feel a bit anticlimactic to me, I have to say.
So, R.E.M. are back!
Well, that of course implies that they'd ever left. And while their two pre-Accelerate albums were perhaps not as traditionally -- ah, screw it. Yes, R.E.M. are back.
Did you write down the set list?
Yes, and so did a million other people, but if you want to save yourself a few clicks:
Finest Worksong
Living Well Is the Best Revenge
Bad Day
What's the Frequency, Kenneth?
Drive
Ignoreland
Man-Sized Wreath
Little America
Hollow Man
Walk Unafraid
Houston
Electrolite
(Don't Go Back to) Rockville
Pop Song '89
Horse to Water
The One I Love
Driver 8
Until the Day Is Done
Let Me In
These Days
Orange Crush
I'm Gonna D.J.
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Supernatural Superserious
Losing My Religion
Mr. Richards
Fall on Me
Man on the Moon