"Tarpaper Sky" - Rodney Crowell hits one out of the park

When Jack Gallagher invited me to be a guest on his and Tommy Dunbar's "5 Songs" podcast last year, I made the comment that "the best song ever written is still out there, somewhere."  For me, that's what has always made music so exciting - there's just so damn much of it, and you just never know where your passion might take you.  While exciting, it's also a bit scary, because at the end of the day there's just too much music - you can't ever hope but to scratch the surface.  And if you're like me (and you probably aren't, and that's probably a good thing), there's always a nagging worry at the back of your mind that you have to be missing something.

On Friday, I was perusing a Rolling Stone article that they had posted on their Facebook page, something along the lines of "the 26 best albums you probably haven't heard in 2014."  Immediately, I was thinking "oh shit, here we go again."  I got out my pen and paper, wrote down a few that sounded interesting, and a couple that screamed "oh man, how did I miss that?"  And on Saturday, I trekked down to the local record store, where I was able to find one that fell into the latter category - "Tarpaper Sky," the latest release from Rodney Crowell.  I haven't bought a lot of Crowell over the years, but it's not as if I don't know who he is, and some of the great songs he's written in the past.  And I really enjoyed his duet album last year with Emmylou Harris, and there's no denying that "When the Master Calls the Roll," the song he co-wrote with (ex-wife) Rosanne Cash and John Leventhal for her album "The River & the Thread," is a masterpiece - one of the best songs in recent memory.

But I have to admit that nothing prepared me for how good an album "Tarpaper Sky" would be. After years of having learned my lesson I've tried to shy away from making spur of the moment pronouncements, but this just might end up being my favorite album of the year - and it will almost certainly end up in the top five.  On "Tarpaper Sky" Crowell shows his prowess as both a performer and a songwriter; there isn't a song on the album that doesn't contain at least one musical or lyrical delight.  There's even a song dedicated to John Denver ("Oh What a Beautiful World") that manages to be sentimental without being corny, and gets to the essence of what made Denver such an appealing performer to so many.

Like Patty Griffin, Crowell made his name as a songwriter before he hit it big as a singer and bandleader, and his skill with the pen is evident throughout "Tarpaper Sky," as he demonstrates a way with words that rivals someone like Elvis Costello or Hal David.  Some examples:

You're every curled rosebud
Enchanting my eye
Each turned up coat collar
And your gaze slides by
There's a sanded down moon
In a tarpaper sky
God I'm missing you

"God I'm Missing You"

Has anybody seen her now?
Pray tell me what you hear
'Cause I just can't get over
How she shed me like a tear

"Somebody's Shadow"

You tore through my life like a tornado looking
for a trailer park
We met on a Monday, here it is Sunday
It happened so fast, they said it wouldn't last
Yeah, but what do they know?
Why can't they say so now?

"Frankie Please"

It's great stuff.  And here's hoping that the RS article helps a few others discover it.

The End of the World As We Know It - "The Stand"

Last week, I posted the following on my Facebook page: 

"So, let's see here...war in the Middle East, check. Planes being shot down allegedly by Russia, check. Ebola outbreak, check. Flesh-eating bacteria in the ocean off the Florida coast, check. Yep, I'd say my end-of-the-world dreams are all primed to make a comeback, after taking a couple of decades off."

We certainly seem to be living through the confluence of a lot of crazy things right now, but it's also a true statement that the world has been dangerous place for a long time now.  And although I wasn't consciously thinking about it at the time, that may have been going through my mind a couple of weeks ago when I decided to pick up Stephen King's "The Stand" for what I call a "speed read" - taking my time on the sections I really enjoy, moving quickly through some parts, and skipping some parts altogether.  And not too worry - I've read the entire thing from cover to cover on several occasions, both the original version and the deluxe version where King added back a couple of hundred pages that he'd been forced to edit out at the behest of his publisher's accounting department.

I wouldn't argue that "The Stand" is King's best book (I'd say "It," followed by "The Dead Zone"), but it seems to be his most beloved, and admittedly it is the one I come back to more often than any of the others I've read.  I think there's a reason for that - even though the premise is horrifying, there's something fascinating about the notion of a civilization starting over with (more or less) a clean slate. The best parts of the novel depict journeys.  After the apocalypse you've got Stu, Glen, Frannie and Harold making their way across the country from Maine towards Nebraska; Larry's group with Nadine and Joe/Leo heading the same way; Nick and Tom Cullen making their way up from the south.  Much later on, there are the journeys of Stu/Larry/Glen/Ralph across the plains to confront their fate in the hands of Randall Flagg, and then the journey of Stu and Tom back to Colorado.  Each one of these episodes is an adventure worthy of its own book, and that's before you even begin to think about the personal journeys that these characters go through.  At the end of this book no one, whether they are living or dead, is the same person that they were when the book began.  For some it's a story of redemption, for others it's a story of descent, and for others it's a matter of discovering things within themselves that they never knew were there before.  

And as one might expect from a book that is 1152 pages long, there are plenty of what I can only call "Stephen King moments" - small stories within the larger narrative that sometimes move that narrative forward, and other times just add pieces to the puzzle or even atmosphere to the proceedings.  My favorite, and it's only a few pages long, is when Stu tells the story of a night long ago, when he encountered a famous rock star who was supposed to be dead.  It doesn't necessarily mean anything in the larger scope of the story that King is telling, but it tells us a lot about Stu, giving us some insight into the type of person he's always been.

It may sound funny to say it, but at the end of the day the most apt thing one can say about "The Stand" is that it's a great yarn.  And here's hoping that we don't have to live through it anytime soon.

LP of the Week - "The Roches" (1979)

Just as a reminder, the posts in this category are about an album that I own only on vinyl.

"The Roches" was a subject of disagreement from the time it was released in 1979.  On the plus side, Christgau gave it an "A," and it finished 11th in that year's Pazz & Jop Poll (right between Donna Summer and Dave Edmunds).  On the negative side, Greil Marcus panned the album in a pretty aggressive way, and if memory serves chalked its critical success up to New York critics.  Which is probably true; the three sisters (Maggie, Terre and Suzzy) were born in New Jersey, and if the legend is to be believed, honed their vocal chops singing on NYC street corners, the songs more often than not being Christmas carols.  They're probably best known for "We Three Kings," their 1990 Christmas LP, which if you're interested is one of the greatest pop Christmas albums ever released.  But at least at the time, this record was a pretty big deal, because it sounded so different than anything else being released at the time.

And there's no doubt about it, "The Roches" is a singular album.  I'm not sure that I'd call it great, but it includes three undeniably great songs - "Hammond Song," "Mr. Sellack," and (especially) "Pretty and High."  The vocals throughout are drop-dead perfect, as is the spare instrumentation (the album was produced by Robert Fripp in "audio verite," whatever that means).  The album is most successful (in the form of the three songs above) when it stops being so self-conscious, and focuses on the songs themselves.  There are other songs on the record that are nearly as strong, "The Troubles" and "The Married Men" among them, but on those the sisters (in their writing and singing) are trying to be a little too clever for their own good.  I wonder whether they would seem stronger when performed live; there's clearly an interplay between artist and listener that's being attempted, but it comes across less effectively on vinyl.

And "Pretty and High" - man, what a great song.  The opening is just perfect:

She came on the stage
in a dress like the sky
she had painted a sunset
around her eyes
and all of the people
were charmed and surprised
at how pretty and high and shy she was
pretty and high and shy

As for the ending, well; it's best to just listen all the way through:



"The Roches," 1979.

"Dawn of the Planet of the Apes" - The summer's clear winner

First things first: as titles, "Dawn" should have come before "Rise."

But now that we've got that out of the way, I really have nothing negative to say about "Dawn of the Planet of the Apes."  This movie, and its predecessor "Rise," are successfully pulling off a very neat trick.  We know how this story is going to end, so the key is making the journey interesting.  And it's not as if we're covering new territory here.  Many of my generation and older are intimately familiar with the mythology of the "Planet of the Apes."  My dad took me to see the original in 1968 (when I was 8 years old), and even though it's unlikely that my thinking at that time was sophisticated enough to fully appreciate the political statements being made in the film, there were plenty of scenes that stuck with me - when Charlton Heston first spoke in captivity, and the legendary final scene along the beach among them.

And while some of the sequels were somewhat cheesy, let's not forget the pedigree of that very first film - directed by Franklin Schaffner, who would win an Oscar for "Patton," Heston, and some all-time great character actors including Roddy McDowall, Kim Hunter, Maurice Evans, and James Whitmore.  Not to mention a screenplay to which Rod Serling contributed.  We're talking about a lot of talent there.  And Pierre Boulle, who wrote the novel?  Also the author of "The Bridge Over the River Kwai."  Not exactly a slouch himself.

But even with all that, it's really hard to avoid the conclusion that the 21st Century reboot of the franchise (and let's just concede that Tim Burton's attempt was a misfire) is superior in all aspects (with a minor asterisk, see below) to the original series of films.  First of all, the movie benefits from the 21st Century technology that allows actors such as Andy Serkis and Toby Kobell to play apes without having to don costumes that may have been impressive for their time, but looked less like real apes than humans dressed up in really neat Halloween costumes.  And the set design?  Part of what makes "Dawn" so impressive is how it looks - the ape compound in Muir Woods, and how San Francisco looks after the plague that has eradicated most of the human race.  If there isn't an Oscar nomination for someone in there, there's no justice.

And the story?  Undeniably powerful.  Make no bones about it, this is a tragedy.  But as in all great tragedies, even as the story unfolds towards its inexorable conclusion, and you bite your lip at the unnecessary behavior that moves it towards that point, you can understand the motivation behind the characters who would be considered the "villains" - Koba for the apes, Dreyfus for the humans.  Both have been scarred - Koba literally, at the hands of his former human tormentors; and Dreyfus, figuratively, who has lost his family as a result of the plague that for which he believes (incorrectly) that the apes were responsible.  Given what they know - the hands they have been dealt - none of their actions, even as you cringe as they are taken, are "unreasonable" from their limited points of view.

As was the case in "Rise," the central figure of "Dawn" is Caesar, the leader who eventually realizes that leadership alone is not enough to control events.  The comparisons to Michael Corleone in "The Godfather Saga" are apt - like Michael, leadership was thrust upon Caesar against his will, and like Michael he has compassion for his enemies - but only up to a certain point.  At the conclusion of "Dawn" he has recaptured his position of leadership, but now he faces a job that he never wanted to have in the first place - again, much like Michael.  Andy Serkis plays his internal conflict perfectly - he grieves for what has happened, but he is prepared to take it to its logical conclusion.  And when you attack his family, he's going to fight back.

The only asterisk?  We've yet to see a human character drawn with as much clarity as any of the apes.  The closest was probably John Lithgow in "Rise," and both Gary Oldman and Jason Clarke do the best with what they were given in "Dawn" - but that is still something to work on for the next movie.

But that too is part of what makes this series of "Planet of the Apes" films so exciting - seeing exactly how the filmmakers resolve those issues.   I just wish we didn't have to wait so long.

Story of a vacation told in five photos

Flashback Film: "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969)

I don't remember the exact date that I saw "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" for the first time, but I do remember where I saw it (the original version of the Arden Fair Cinemas, long gone and missed by few) and with whom I saw it (my cousins Bill and Mary).  This was a rare treat - all of the parents had seen the movie, deemed it suitable for young viewers such as us, and let us go into the theater all by ourselves.  We were 13, 10 and 9 at the time, so that may not seem like such a big deal today, but trust me - it was a big deal for us.

Back in the days before Blu-Ray, DVD, or even VHS, "big" films with box-office potential even years after their release would see a second life in the cinemas.  Butch Cassidy was such a film, so in the spring of '76 I saw it for a second time, this time with my brothers Andrew and Pat.

As the years have gone by, I've watched it a lot, and since it is available on Netflix Streaming, decided to give it another go a couple of weeks ago.  Back when I was a kid, this was a magical film - even having seen few movies in the "grown up" theaters, this pretty quickly became the best film I'd ever seen.

Watching it now, I still think it's great - but it isn't quite that good, and it certainly doesn't hold up as well as its spiritual twin, "The Sting" (which is one of the few perfect movies ever made).  And frankly, it's a bit of an odd duck. Why?  Consider the following:

First, when you get right down to it, it's really three movies in one:

Part 1 is the setup, when we meet Butch and Sundance for the first time and are introduced to Etta, the love of their life, and the grungy but highly entertaining members of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang.  Even within this section of the movie, there are abrupt shifts in tone: parts are very gritty, others are close to pure comedy.

Part 2 is the chase, where Butch and Sundance are pursued by a posse with almost mystical powers ("Who are those guys?") to, literally, the edge of the abyss.  This is the best section of the film, even though there isn't a ton of dialogue, because it allows Newman and Redford to just be themselves, developing an onscreen rapport that is justifiably legendary.

Part 3 could be called "Fishes out of water in Bolivia," and it's the least successful part of the film, if only because we've seen better examples of everything that it tries during the first two acts.  But this is where you get to see Strother Martin in action, only one of the all-time great character actors, so it's not a total loss.

Second, the music.  It doesn't have what you would call a traditional score, but it does have music, credited to composer Burt Bacharach.  Don't get me wrong - I think Bacharach is a genius, but this is far from his best work.  I know that "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" won the Oscar and all, but it's pretty pedestrian for a Bacharach/David tune, and the scene in which it appears (though cute) is entirely gratuitous.

And then, during the Bolivian adventures, there is an extended scene where we see glimpses of Butch and Sundance going back to their old ways, which is accompanied by music that is as out of place as anything I've ever heard in a movie.  It's sounds like the score to a really bad Broadway musical, and it just destroys the momentum of the movie.  A previous, similar interlude was much more successful, showing Butch, Sundance and Etta during their trip down to Bolivia, where they lived and were treated like royalty.

But those are really small quibbles, nit-picking if you prefer.  In addition to Strother Martin, it's got an incredible cast of character actors: Henry Jones, Jeff Corey, Ted Cassidy, Kenneth Mars, Cloris Leachman.  And it's got Newman and Redford, demonstrating with ease why they deserved their legendary status.  That's film history right there, folks.

Old 97's deliver a messed up masterpiece

"Most Messed Up," the new album by the Old 97's, is packaged in spartan fashion.  It includes neither liner notes nor a lyric sheet.  On the back cover, you see that there are "Twelve songs in total," with an album length of "Thirty-nine minutes, fifty-seven seconds."  And then, "Play this album loud."  With that admonition a gauntlet has been thrown down, and the only thing that remains is to find out whether the band can deliver on the promise.

The answer is a resounding "yes."  In fact, "Most Messed Up" is my favorite album of the the year -  certainly the most fun, and probably the truest to the spirit of rock 'n roll.  If "Born to Run" was "a '57 Chevy running on melted down Crystals records" (the great line by Greil Marcus), then "Most Messed Up" is akin to a Dodge Charger that's been driving all night long, a little overheated, running mostly on melted down bottles of Jack Daniels and whatever "medicines" the band was able to get their hands on.

The first clue to what the album is all about can be found in the song titles: "Longer Than You've Been Alive" (which is how the long the band has been playing together), "Let's Get Drunk & Get It On," "Wheels Off," "Wasted," "Intervention," "Most Messed Up."  The second clue can be found in the band credits, just below those for the band regulars: "Additional electric guitar and vocals: Tommy Stinson."  For those too young to remember, Stinson was a founding member of The Replacements, one of the greatest (if not the greatest) of American post-punk bands.  The first few listens, I couldn't quite put my finger on what the sound of "Most Messed Up" reminded me of - but seeing that credit to Stinson, it all came into focus, because there's a distinct "Let it Be" and "Tim" (The Replacements' first two albums) vibe to the proceedings.  The album sounds like it was recorded in one take, without any breaks for silly things like guitar tuning, rehearsals or overdubs.  It's a bit of a mess, but a glorious one.

And while there's no lyrics sheet, you can find them easily enough on the band's website.  A few choice nuggets:

bottles of whiskey bottles of beer

there’s a bottle of medicine somewhere ‘round here

we’ve been in nightclubs and we’ve been in bars

honky-tonks and theaters from Memphis to Mars

most of our shows were a triumph of rock

although some nights I might have been checkin’ the clock

"Longer Than You've Been Alive"

this is the ballad of drinking rye whiskey

and sleeping till 2 on a warm afternoon

telling your journal how badly you miss me

and you can’t believe I’ll be coming so soon

this is the ballad of anticipation

waiting and waiting and waiting and then

finally getting the one you’ve been wanting

and guess what it’s time to start waiting again

"This Is the Ballad"

stop squeezin’ my shoes quit killin’ my buzz

why you wreckin’ my mood what are you the fuzz

I’m so far gone I can’t never get found

I am the most messed up motherf*cker in this town

"Most Messed Up"

The Old 97's have been around for more than twenty years, and I don't think many people would accuse them of being a household name.  That's probably not going to change with the release of "Most Messed Up," and it's unlikely that the band had any expectations that it would.  But trust me, this is about as good as it gets.

Seven Song Perfect Playlist: The Ramones

1. "Blitzkrieg Bop"



2. "Sheena is a Punk Rocker"



3. "Rockaway Beach"



4. "We're a Happy Family"



5. "I Wanna Be Sedated"



6. "Teenage Lobotomy"



7. "Cretin Hop"

Top 50 Albums of All Time, #22 - "Who's Next" (1971)

I've got quite a history with this album.

At one time in my life, I might have ranked it up in the top ten.  At another time, it wouldn't have made the list at all.  So what happened?

Let's start at the beginning.  Spring of 1974, I'm wrapping up 8th grade, and hanging out at a friend's house after school.  His brother plops the album on the turntable, and the first song coming out of the speakers is "Getting in Tune."  It's the second side, followed by "Going Mobile," "Behind Blue Eyes" and the epic "Won't Get Fooled Again."  I'm hooked - and it's almost as if a new world has opened up.  Looking back now, it was probably the first "pantheon album" that I'd ever heard - what most objective observers would call the best album from a band considered to be one of best ever.

Fast forward to the fall of 1980 - my first quarter at Berkeley, during that time when you're trying to figure out the right balance between freedom (I can do anything I want, any time I want!) and responsibility (Oh yeah, there's that whole study and do well on your grades thing still hanging overhead).  Trying to get used to a bunch of people from different backgrounds, with different tastes and different whims.  And, perhaps most importantly to someone like myself, with different musical tastes.

So at any given point during my two years in the dorms, that might have meant the guy who went in for folk-era Dylan, or the guy who was into Eno's ambient music, or the young lady who went more for the hardcore stuff (X, Flipper), or in one particular instance, the guy who owned two albums and played them at length, nearly every day - one of them being "Who's Next" (the other was Todd Rundgren's "Something/Anything," which at least had the virtue of being a double album).  What I learned in that one nine-month period is that there are no albums that can withstand that amount of playing - not even an album as great as "Who's Next."  It was nearly 20 years before I could listen to it again.

Once I made peace with it, there could be no question that this was one of the greatest albums ever recorded; the prototype of what would now be considered the classic "classic rock" album.  From the majestic opening of "Baba O'Riley," to the perfect Roger Daltrey vocals, to the outright beauty of some of the music ("The Song Is Over," "Behind Blue Eyes"), to the humor of John Entwistle's "My Wife," and to what was probably the last great drumming of Keith Moon's career - it's damn near perfect.

Give it another 10 years, and it may wind its way all the back to the top ten.

Sportsball Update!

I've noticed lately that people have begun to use "sportsball" as a derogatory (in my opinion) term to describe a) sports in general when they don't care for sports in general; and b) sports that they don't care for, when they may be passionate about others.  Either way, it strikes me as a way to appear superior to all of us yahoos who (to quote my mom) will watch any contest where they keep score.

So...screw that.  Instead of falling prey to the temptation to demonstrate one's superiority for not being into something that appeals to the masses, how about just keeping those thoughts to yourself?  And meanwhile, I promise not to publicly comment on any of your obsessions that I find to be particularly uninspiring.

And now that I've got that out of my system, there's a lot been going on lately in the world of sportsball, and I've been remiss in not commenting on any of it!

Let's start with the U.S. Open, both men's and women's division.  For the first time, both tournaments were played in consecutive weeks on the same course (Pinehurst No. 2), which was plenty cool in and of itself.  And notwithstanding the rants of one Donald the Trump, who likes his courses lush and green, the course looked great - and more importantly, looked exactly like the kind of course that our national tournament should be played on.

Admittedly, there wasn't a lot of drama to be found over either of the respective weekends, but that's not entirely a bad thing, because you can't sneeze at the type of dominating performance that Martin Kaymer turned in for the men.  And Michelle Wie?  She may only be 24, but she's been around forever.  She is clearly the superstar that women's golf needs to take it to the next level.  And there's something about potential fulfilled that is gratifying.  She's been through a lot, and some of her problems may have been self-inflicted, but Wie now seems poised to grab the spotlight in a way that no other golfer could hope to, outside of a couple of guys named Tiger and Phil.

And how about those San Antonio Spurs?  They may not be a "dynasty" as the term is defined by Phil Jackson, but they've certainly managed to achieve a level of sustained excellence that no other NBA team in history (outside of the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers) can match.  Tim Duncan may not be the best player in the history of the league, but as Bill Simmons astutely noted last week, only Kareem Abdul-Jabbar may have had a better career than Duncan.  Championships 15 years apart, and still playing at a high level.  Parker and Ginobli?  Mainstays for a decade.  And Kawhi Leonard, the series MVP?  The guy was SEVEN YEARS OLD when Duncan won his first title.  And when challenged by mastermind Gregg Popovich, he came through like few others have - effectively outplaying the man who might just be the best who's ever played the game.

And so what about Lebron and his legacy?  He's got his two rings and he's recovered from the asinine way he publicly portrayed his entry into Miami four years ago, but at the same time he's lost two finals and now he seems chained to a ship that, if not sinking, is certainly starting to take on water.  If he leaves for greener pastures, anywhere except Cleveland, he puts the entire "asshole" argument back in play.  If he stays and the Heat can't pull themselves together for another title run, he never challenges Jordan for the title of "best of all time."  What's important to him?   I guess we'll find out.

World Cup?  Yeah, it's been awesome this year, with dramatic games nearly every day.  And how painful was that 2-2 tie today with Portugal?  Well, it reminded me of how I felt when Robert Horry stuck a dagger through the heart of the Kings way back in 2002, in Game 4 of the greatest NBA series ever played.  But our next game is against Germany, and what have they ever done in the World Cup?  Right?

Hat tip to Rafael Nadal - great win over Novak Djokovic in the French Open Final; and all of a sudden Roger Federer's title as the greatest major player in history is at doubt.

And last but not least, kudos to the L.A. Kings - who were down THREE GAMES TO ZERO in the FIRST round of the Stanley Cup playoffs.  I'd call that resilience.

Sportsball, baby...that's where it's at.

Top 50 Albums of All Time, #23: "Automatic for the People," R.E.M. (1992)

R.E.M.'s career went through a number of distinct phases.  Their first three albums established them as the world's favorite indie critics' band, even as Michael Stipe's enunciation issues and oddball lyrics made them almost impossible to understand.  Around the time of "Fables of the Reconstruction," I remember telling a good friend from my college days that I wasn't even sure if I liked them that much.

And then, BOOM.  On "Life's Rich Pageant" they hired John Mellencamp's producer, turned up the mikes on Bill Berry's drum set, and all of a sudden Michael Stipe decided to stop mumbling.  Some critics called it a sell-out (or even worse, a betrayal), but I thought it was their best album to date.  This trend continued with "Document," which was even better, and "Green," which was almost that good.

But it was after that, in the early to mid-1990s, that the band hit their creative peak.  During that time they issued four consecutive albums falling somewhere between "classic" and "masterpiece," and one of the reasons it's taken so long to restart this project is that I really wanted to avoid the cop out of selecting all four, like I did with Talking Heads.  After listening to all four albums quite a bit, it came down to a choice between "Out of Time" (which should probably be somewhere on this list, but call it near the top of the next tier) and "Automatic for the People," which were released within about a year of each other.

It's the latter album that gets the nod.  Interestingly, the worst song is the first, "Drive," and even it is pretty good.  But it's the six songs that anchor the record - all among their best, featuring some of the most beautiful music they ever wrote - that push it over the top.  I'm talking about "Try Not to Breathe," "Everybody Hurts," "Sweetness Follows," "Man on the Moon," "Nightswimming," and "Find the River."  That's half the album right there, and if I was putting together a tape representing the best of their career, I'd be hard pressed to leave any of those off.

These are not happy songs - just check these lyrics from "Try Not to Breathe:"

I will try not to breathe.
I can hold my head still with my hands at my knees.
These eyes are the eyes of the old, shiver and fold.
I will try not to breathe.
This decision is mine. I have lived a full life
And these are the eyes that I want you to remember. Oh.

I need something to fly over my grave again.
I need something to breathe.
I will try not to burden you.
I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath
Until all these shivers subside,
Just look in my eyes.

The meaning behind those lyrics has been talked about for more than two decades now, to the point where the discussion has its own page on Metafilter.  Clearly the song is about death, but the brilliance of the writing is that you can't pin down the circumstances.  I've always felt it was about someone dying of AIDs, but that's not necessarily the case.  

And these from "Everybody Hurts:"

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)
If you think you've had too much
Of this life, well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh no

I'm not sure what Michael Stipe was going through at that time of his life, but he clearly had a lot on his mind.  But it's best to remember R.E.M. as a band, because their work together was definitely greater than the sum of each individual part.  Nearly every song they recorded was credited to the entire band, and the music they created together was at times so beautiful - gorgeous melodies and vocals - that you sometimes forgot that it was a lot more than Stipe and three sidemen.  So here's to Peter Buck, Mike Mills and Bill Berry.  You were all a great band.