Back to Rockville

So, farewell then, REM. 30 odd years is a good run for anyone, and in truth they’d been on life-support ever since Bill Berry quit, though I’d argue they hit their absolute peak as far back as Green.

Back in my teens, REM were a gateway into what I guess you’d label Alternative music. In the mid 90s, they were a mainstream rock band that got plenty of radio play – especially during the Automatic For The People era – and that your dad could like, but had an interesting back story. More importantly still, they had a brilliant back catalogue.

What always struck me about REM was how little they looked like a band. Mike Mills had a fringe that looked as though his mother had cut it. Bill Berry had a magnificent monobrow that would shame a Gallagher brother. Peter Buck had long hair even though it didn't look a good idea. Stipe was the exception – enigmatic, handsome and intelligent, he was in many ways the American version of Morrissey.

Automatic, like Out of Time, had some great songs, but it was far from my favourite album. Too many tunes that didn't particularly go anywhere. Luckily, the branch of Woolworths in my hometown had a copy of Murmur, which was brilliant. I spent hours as a rookie bassist playing along to Radio Free Europe.

It was investigating the band’s indie years that proved the most rewarding part of my REM fandom. I’ll always argue their first four albums are as good a run as anyone else has managed. The debut and Reckoning showed me that you can be a good musician and not have to show off – certainly I can’t remember Buck playing a conventional guitar solo until Flowers of Guatemala on Lifes Rich Pageant, their fourth album. Naturally, it was brilliant, one of those solos that I repeat about ten times in a row.

Weirdly (or perhaps not), their big commercial breakthrough came with what I’d put down as one of their weakest albums, Document, though the huge riff that carried The One I Love ensured the then-vital avenue of radio was open to them. Major labeldom awaited, though cries of ‘sell out’ could hardly be justified by Green, which had them as political as ever. It rocked too, a side they’d return to (harder) with 1995s Monster. Touring that album, Bill Berry fell critically ill – an event which doubtless influenced his decision to quit after the darker New Adventures In Hi-Fi.

The tour to support the first album as a trio, Up, was when I saw them, at Stirling Castle. It was a good show, the first time I’d seen such a big production. Stipe worked the crowd well and the newer songs were good enough that I bought the album – the last of theirs that I did so. In 2005, I saw them again at Old Trafford Cricket Ground. They hadn't changed much, but I had: the size of the venue left me a bit cold, even if I had managed to get myself close enough to the front to see Stipe's make-up. They were part of the old order, not going through the motions but seemingly settled in their role.

After that, I hadn't given much thought to REM until a few weeks ago, when I stuck Reckoning on my MP3 player. It still sounds great, its stripped down arrangements ensuring it hasn't dated. It’s hard to be sad that they've split, but it’s always worth remembering that there was a time when they had hit the Holy Grail for bands on independent labels – critically acclaimed and making the charts.