The Blame Game
I love R.E.M. Of all the bands that have broken up, they are the one I am most broken up about that I will never get to see live. I’m a little too young to have been consciously listening to them when they were most popular, but I made up for lost time later.
“Man on the Moon” is one of my favorite songs to do at karaoke, mostly because I adore the lyrics and my voice range can approximate Michael Stipe’s. It feels like an anthem while still being meaningful and nostalgic. I took the time, after learning the lyrics, to familiarize myself with all of the cultural references that I didn’t know.
But this post isn’t about “Man on the Moon.” Automatic For The People is an outstanding album, no doubt. But I’ve always been fond of R.E.M.’s following album, Monster. It’s not as strong an album overall as Automatic For The People or Out of Time, but it’s still a great listen. It came out in 1994 when grunge was already past its prime, but had this grungy sound that was still unmistakably their own. My favorite song on the album is “Bang and Blame.”
“Bang and Blame” is also on my “Songs I Always Like” playlist. Its lyrics are sufficiently opaque so as not to be overly emotional, unlike many other R.E.M. songs I adore that make me very emotional.
Someday I’ll be able to put into words what makes R.E.M. songs all so special, but today is not that day. Their songs have this overall structure and melodic fluctuation that is unique, often replicated but never achieved by others. Their sound is completely unique and any song of theirs is instantly recognizable as theirs.
It’s really the chorus of “Bang and Blame” that holds the song together. I mentioned how I can facsimile Michael Stipe’s voice, but I sure as hell can’t sing this song satisfactorily. The number of melodic shifts just in the words “you bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, then blame, blame, blame” is astounding. His voice flutters not through each word, but through each serif. “Bang” and “blame” are both simple, one-syllable words, but each sounds like an entire symphony.
Except for the choruses, the instrumentation stays remarkably consistent. The echoing guitar, the melodic bassline, the simple drum accompaniment. It almost lulls you, and then when Michael starts banging and blaming, it suddenly turns into this hard rock song. It jolts your heart. And when he says “not my thing so let it go,” and the song reverts back to the consistent instrumentation, it feels like the chorus was just a beat in time, something you’ll always remember as having been there when you’re 100. At the end of the second chorus, there is that classic R.E.M. tonal shift where he lifts the last syllable, leading into a short bridge. After the third verse, an extra-long chorus begins, and then the song eventually fades away. The last thirty-five seconds are an instrumental outro that barely fits with the rest of the song.
I had a hard time writing this post because R.E.M. is a band I often listen to with my eyes closed. They make me want to listen deeply and closely, to uncover all the intricate details. I’m therefore not posting the music video, which isn’t that memorable anyway, and instead I encourage you to close your eyes and block out any distractions around you, just for five minutes and twenty-eight seconds.