STIPE

Michael Stipe, the lead singer and lyricist of the band REM, has been a personal hero of mine for years. ...Of sorts. I've never really listed him amongst my influences or inspirations prominently alongside people like Morrissey, Waters, or Drake, and I'm not sure why this is. He is much more a POET than a lyricist and yet somehow his freeflow of words fits perfectly with the tune and turns here and there unexpectedly, builds to an unlooked-for crescendo or gracefully nods and vanishes just when you thought you'd got your arms around it. In my mind the band itself has been inconsistent in the quality of their music, and some of his/their musical experiments have failed (for me). But the "old" REM was haunting college antiestablishment music of the first order, and the "peak" years that saw Life's Rich Pageant, Green, and especially Automatic For The People released has yet to quite be matched by anyone or any group. In it's own unique way, of course. It's like Pink Floyd's 70s albums - they were pieces of perfection in their time and are completely untouchable now; can never be divorced from their context.

Because I always felt that Stipe was flamboyant, pretentious, the type who would find no humor or lightness in a modern art gallery or poke fun at himself but always strove to be profound, I had a love/hate relationship with his work. I recognized its genius - can anyone deny it? But then I loathed the man who obviously knew the extent of his talents. It's only recently I've either come round to understanding him better, or maybe just not caring who he is as a person. I still don't really know, but one thing I am happy to discuss is his complete unique writing style. It's unlike anyone else I've read, especially rock musicians who fancy themselves poets. The music and vocals help of course, because his remarkable if quirky voice stretches and compresses the sounds of the words to give him yet another axis of expression - timing. And his timing is truly perfect. His best songs could be described as almost purely impressionistic, sure as any Monet, and to listen to them in a quiet room and let him fill your mind with imagery is not unlike that feeling you get standing in front of the works of a great painter. It's enough to make you swoon. To want to write/paint/sculpt something yourself or DO something meaningful, and stop sponging up the world without giving back.

I've picked out three REM songs without a lot of deliberation, just ones that came to me where my immediate thought was, "yeah, that one's got some interesting lyrics." You could easily find a dozen more. But I want you to see what I mean about his style, and then if you can find these songs to listen to, so much the better. You'll appreciate a true artist. Without further ado, then.


HAIRSHIRT

I am not the type of dog
That could keep you waiting
For no good reason
Run a carbon-black test on my jaw
And you will find
It's all been said before
I can swing my megaphone
And longarm the rest
It's easier and better
To just beat it from the chest
Of desire
I could walk into this room
And the waves of conversation are enough
To knock you down
The undertow
I'm so alone
I'm so alone, in my life
Feed me banks of light
And hang your hairshirt on the lowest rung
It's a beautiful life
And I can hang my hairshirt
Away up high in the attic
Of the wrong dog's life chest
Or bury it at sea
All my life I've searched for this
Here I am
Here I am in your life
It's a beautiful life
My life...
It's a beautiful life
Your life...



YOU ARE THE EVERYTHING

Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing
I'm very scared for this world
I'm very scared for me
Eviscerate your memory
Here's a scene
You're in the back seat laying down
The windows wrap around
To sound of the travel and the engine
All you hear is time stand still in travel
And feel such peace and absolutely
Stillest still that doesn't end
But slowly drifts into sleep
The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen
And they're there for you
For you alone, you are the everything.

I think about this world a lot and I cry and
I've seen the films and the eyes
But I'm in this kitchen
Everything is beautiful
And she is so beautiful
She is so young and old
I look at her and I see the beauty
Of the light of music
The voices talking somewhere in the house
Late spring and you're drifting off to sleep
With your teeth in your mouth
You are here with me
You are here with me
You have been here, and you are everything.

Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing
I'm very scared for this world
I'm very scared for me
Eviscerate your memory
Here's a scene
You're in the back seat laying down
The windows wrap around
To sound of the travel and the engine
All you hear is time stand still in travel
And feel such peace and absolute
The stillness still that doesn't end
But slowly drifts into sleep
The stars are greatest thing you've ever seen
And they're there for you
For you alone, you are the everything.
For you alone, you are the everything.



NIGHTSWIMMING

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse
Still, it's so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge
The moon is low tonight.

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
I'm not sure all these people understand.
It's not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
Of recklessness and water
They cannot see me naked!
These things, they go away,
Replaced by everyday.

Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September's coming soon
I'm pining for the moon
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the ferris sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
Could not describe nightswimming.

You, I thought I knew you.
You, I cannot judge.
You, I thought you knew me,
This one laughing quietly underneath my breath
Nightswimming...
The photograph reflects,
Every streetlight a reminder
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night,
Deserves a quiet night.