Not A Pretty Girl

Last Time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/no-i-in-threesome/

Helene let the quiet of the Soho loft wash over her. Sadie and Mara were gone to change clothes for the show. The manager’s boots squeaked against the hardwood.

“Helene, be at the club by 9. I know you don’t go on til 10, but I want to introduce you to some people and take some pictures. The other two can be late, but not you.”

Helene waved at him with her left hand. Her right reached into her bra to pull out her favorite purple pick. It wasn’t there.

“Oh no! Where the hell did it go?”

Helene panicked and stumbled over two guitars then fell next to Mara’s drum kit. The manager appeared over her, holding the pick between his right thumb and forefinger.

“You dropped it next to Sadie’s bass.”"

She refused his left hand and pulled herself up to meet his smirk.

“Helene why’s that pick so special? You can get one anywhere for a couple of bucks.”

She rolled her eyes and realized why disliked non-musicians. Their vulgar opinions about how artists lived made her angry. She acquiesced.

“If I tell you, will you do me a favor tonight?”

The manager pushed his thin lips together and nodded his head yes.

“I caught it at Ani DiFranco’s Pittsburgh concert in 2003. It was my 19th birthday present.”

Helene saw the manager glance at the door. She sighed and asked for his help.

“Ramona Gallery may be coming tonight. I don’t want to look lame by putting her on my list. Will you put her on yours? No one will ask questions.”

The manager replied, “sure” and began to walk away. As he turned the knob, he yelled to Helene.

“If I told you and the other two to wear something other than jeans and t-shirts you’d tell me to fuck off, right?”

Helene smiled and watched him leave. She strummed the acoustic guitar and passionately sang the first line.

“I am not a pretty girl
that is not what I do”

 *****blogger’s note****

This is my 333 word response to Ttrifecta writing Challenge’s  http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/  “Vulgar”. This is also a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/

Today’s song is what Helene’s taking a quiet moment to sing, to herself. It means something different to her. Here’s Ani DiFranco’s Not A Pretty Girl….

Hard To Beat

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/01/23/the-way-we-get-by/

Helene’s long hot shower wasn’t sobering but it made her feel clean and sexy. As she exited the shower, she saw her phone had fallen from the sink. She remembered the broken lock to the door bathroom. She called to Xander.

“Being a good boy?”

He laughed.

“This masterpiece is so grand, even your naked body couldn’t distract me.”

Helene liked him. She knelt down, nude and wet, to put her phone back together to check messages. She saw 3 texts and 1 call from Ramona Gallery.

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to see you before or after the show.”

She dialed Ramona, who answered on the first ring.

“Hi Leney!”

Helene thought about what she wanted. Then she took a few seconds to think about what she needed. Ramona felt good and she was helping her. Xander was new and would take some training.

“Ramona, if you can’t catch my show tonight, meet me at the afterparty. Then I’m yours for the night. I like your bed, my mona.”

They said goodbye. Helene felt no guilt.

She left her hair wet, ignored makeup, and wore only a pair of dirty jeans, a small white bra, and a Hard Fi band t-shirt. She hoped Xander would still call her beautiful being low maintenance. Helene opened the bathroom door and gasped.

Xander looked at Helene’s shocked reaction and stuttered.

“It’s all etchings from black crayons you had and some sepia water colors. Don’t touch it. It’s you at that Greek show. It was the best I could do in 20 minutes…I added the star tattoo as wishful thinking. I think one would look good there..”

Helene walked over to him, with tears in her eyes and threw her tired arms around Xander’s waist.

“Thank you, Xander. It’s fucking awesome and artistically brilliant. You’re so talented.

Her tears soaked Xander’s shoulder.

“It’s my interpretation of the beast inside your beauty. And your need to feed every day. I think it’s really respresentative of who you are on stage.”

***blogger’s note****

This is a new story episode of Helene Troy. You can read the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This is also my reply to my friends at www.trifectachallenge.com Their one word prompt this week was “Beast”

 

Today’s song is perfect for the moment between Helene and Xander. I dig Hard Fi, British post punk song. It’s something that would be Helene CD collection. Here’s Hard Fi ‘s Hard To Beat…play it loud

Top Ten Records of 2011

It’s the end of the year.  That means a edict from the blogging Gods has been cast. Apparently, everyone in the ‘sphere is taking these two weeks off or just throwing out wordless posts and lists of things. I’ve never said I wasn’t capable of hackdom so here’s where I drop my favorite albumsCDsdownloadedpiratedburnednotboughtinstoresbecausetheydon’tsellthem pieces of music.

10) Rihanna – Talk That Talk. This isn’t Rihanna’s best album but it’s the one that shows her personality. This is a young, lonely, confused, sexy woman that is trying to figure it all out while dancing and singing her rear end off. I’m glad my teenage daughter opened my eyes to her. Rihanna makes good pop records that are also adult in outlook, as opposed to her contemporaries Katy Perry, Kesha, and Britney Spears.

9) Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring for my Halo. Kurt is a kooky looking, killer guitar player from Philadelphia that gets compared to Bruce Springsteen. That’s unfortunate. He’s weirder, and thus, more interesting than The Boss. His chord progressions are simple but they flow from each parts of his songs so uniquely, he’s comes across as fresh on every track. Plus, his album title is very cool. There’s enough bombast for you to rock out and enough atmosphere for you to appreciate the melody and lyrics. He’s just a good guitar player who put out an album that doesn’t suck.

8) Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds – I’m an Oasis homer. I’m unapologetic about how much I dig Noel Gallagher’s art. His debut solo album met all of my expectations. It doesn’t exceed them because it’s far from perfect. Yet, Noel’s attention to lyrical detail and stellar guitar work made a good record that I had trouble keeping out of my ears. The best songs are The Death of You and Me, Everybody’s On The Run and a track not on the record but you can find on youtube – The Good Rebel. It’s Noel’s best work since What’s The Story, Morning Glory?

7) Foo Fighters – Wasting Light. The Foos are probably the best American rock band working today. There’s nothing overtly special about this album but it rocks and you’ll like it a lot. Get it.

6) Smith Westerns – Dye It Blonde. Dreamy, weird, lovely, and cool. The Smith Westerns’ have a different vibe and style than any other indie band out there. Weekend will become, well, your Weekend song. There’s so much to like about their record.

5) Yuck – Yuck. For the uniniated, Yuck is a 1990s throwback outfit from London that plays interesting feedback heavy sorta kinda rock music that works. Here’s my best sales job on Yuck. If you get their debut CD, put it in your car, you’ll listen to the entire thing without hitting seek or stop. I swear. There’s a song called Georgia that makes me slightly biased, but you’ll also dig Rubber. Yuck just sounds great. You’ll compare them to Dinosaur Jr or possibly Sonic Youth.

4) Wavves – Life Sux EP. Wait, dude, how can an Indie surf rock EP be that good? Because the songs are pure excitement. I Wanna Be Dave Grohl will become your dance around, laugh out loud rock tune. This band is fun and interesting and most of all, talented. I love everything about these songs.

3) Adele – 21. It’s terrific. Nothing has thrilled me more this year than watching teenagers, like my own, singing along to the radio to someone that can actually annunciate and doesn’t require autotune. Adele is a revelation. On the surface, she’s 2011′s version of Amy Winehouse; a young British soul singer who comes across wiser than her years. Adele sings about lonlieness, self-worth, vanity, and what life is really friggin like. There are some slow spots in the album, so it’s not perfect. But it sets up what the rest of her career can be. Terrific songs sung by a rare talent.

2) The Strokes – Angles. When I heard, in 2009, that one of my favorite bands was delaying their album indefinitely. I feared the worse. The wait was worth every nervous second. Angles is hugely satisfying rock music. The guitars are layered. Julian Casablancas’ voice hasn’t sounded this good since 2001. I don’t even have a favorite song because they’re all good. If you don’t own this record, you’re cheating yourself. Angles is great.

1) The Arctic Monkeys – Suck It And See. It’s extraordinary. The band grew up overnight and the result of the musical puberty is well written rock songs that will last for years. Don’t Sit Down Because I Moved Your Chair will suck you in because of it’s snarky lyrics and giant guitar riffs. The rest of the album will make you love rock and roll again, in case you fell out. Suck It And See proves that established mainstream bands don’t have to turn into jerks. They can be artistically viable. The A-Monkeys made a brilliant piece of work. Get it…now.

I’ve played so many of these songs throughout the year in my blog posts. I don’t like repeating ones. Here’s the Smith Westerns, Weekend. More Helene Troy tomorrow.

Bodies

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/12/14/only/

Their mouths danced with each others while the rest of their bodies became clumsy. Helene shoved the taller Ramona into the refrigerator. Ramona pushed the lighter Helene back into the bar without breaking their connection.  Helene’s full lipped mouth left the lock up for a moment to yell out in pain, “ahhhh”.

“Oh Leney, are you alright? Don’t move!”

Ramona stared into Helene’s burning green eyes, re-embraced her and instructed ”3…2….1…” . Together they dropped to the kitchen floor, rolling precisely into a few feet of space. Again, they kissed passionately. As Helene rolled on top of Ramona, she kicked a cabinet and Ramona’s half empty Stella Artrois fell, splashing onto Helene’s back. She pulled away and grimaced at her wet t-shirt and the spilled beer.

“Shit, Ramona, I’m sorry.”

Ramona threw her arms around Helene’s lithe figure. She slipped her long fingers under Helene’s long brown hair, cupping the back of her head and aggressively pulling her down.

“It’s okay, just don’t stop, Leney.”

The door bell rang. They ignored it and continued kissing and touching, momentarily hitting body parts on features of the kitchen. The door bell rang again. Helene put he hands on each side of Ramona’s waist and pushed herself up, running her left index finger down Ramona’s chest, stopping at the top of her jeans.. She could barely speak between stuttering pants.

“…R…Ra….Mona, it’s the cab driver. Want…me to…”

Ramona sat up quickly, kissed Helene deeply, then released..

“Gu….Ga…Go….Go grab another shirt, Leney. I’ll open the door. There’s time for this later, I hope?”

Helene pushed herself up and stood over Ramona with a conquering pose. She bit her bottom lip, pulled off the beer stained Pretenders’ t-shirt, threw it to the floor and slowly strutted into the bedroom.

****blogger’s note***

This is my answer to Write on Edge’s Red Writing Hood Friday prompt: This week, write a post – fiction or creative non-fiction – which begins with a countdown. “Three, two, one.” You pick what the countdown is for. Use your imagination and have fun with it!  I used my imagination and put the countdown a few sentences in. I doubt anyone complains. We’re keeping the word limit to 300 to help you all not only edit yourselves, but also support your fellow community members by making it easier to read more link-ups.

It is also a new Helene Tory story episode. You can find the the rest of her, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/

Today’s song – Drowning Pool – Bodies. Because I said so…listen to it as you read…it’ll work.

Only

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/12/10/message-of-love/

The record album rested on the dresser, to Helene’s left hand, and the t-shirt to the right. Her reflection in the vanity showed Ramona picking up her cell phone to check a text message. Helene crossed her arms at her waist and peeled the sticky, wet shirt over her head. It feel to the hardwood floor. The coolness of the bedroom hit her shoulders and stomach. She panicked.

“Oh my God!”

Helene covered her chest and turned around. Ramona grinned.

“Leney it’s okay. Usually, when I enter this room, I strip too. I like that you feel comfortable here, with me.”

Helene felt like an embarrassed little girl. The worst thing Ramona could think about her, was that she wasn’t cool, she childishly thought. She dropped her arms.

“Ramona, I’m not much to look at, so who cares? I do feel at ease, with you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my life.”

Helene turned back around. Ramona walked up behind her, placing her hands softly on Helene’s shoulders . Ramona gently whispered.

“You’re beautiful in every way, Leney. I feel the same. I’m going to grab a couple of beers and call a cab. The producer wants us there by 1 a.m.. “

Helene stayed tense, holding her words inside. Ramona removed her hands and smiled. Helene relaxed,  then leaned back into Ramona’s chest and spoke.

“I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

Ramona pulled away and walked toward the next room. As she reached the doorway, she turned around and said.

“I’ll call the producer back and tell him you’ll take the session guitarist gig I haven’t had the chance to mention. I’ll make it fun for you, I promise. There’s a hair dryer in the bathroom closet.”

Helene’s face exploded with joy as Ramona kept walking. Helene jumped up and down muttering through clenched teeth ”yes, yes, yes!” She composed herself and went into the bathroom.

Helene pivoted the hair dryer over her damp white bra, then threw her head downward and shot warm air through her long, wavy brown hair. As she whipped her mane back into place she caught tired eyes looking back at her. She cringed at the mirror and pounded the bottom of her left fist on the granite countertop.

“You have to do this for yourself and because of yourself!”

Helene slipped on the dry t-shirt, walked out of the bedroom and dropped the wet one  next to her backpack. Ramona was in the kitchen hanging up her cell phone. She offered Helene a Stella Artois beer. She grabbed it and gulped almost half of its contents. Ramona scrunched her face together with worry.

“Leney honey, are you alright?”

Helene looked at Ramona differently, this time. Her body language was confident. She curled her lips and tossed out her words.

“When you left your band, Kerouac Kids, to go solo, everyone called you crazy, right?”

Ramona turned up her beer and leaned forward against the top of the bar. Her face tightened.

“I was called a sellout, a dumb bitch, a pop princess, and a sure-fire failure. Then, I wrote my ass off for 10 years, played with every one of my idols, and sold 10 million records.”

Helene finished her Stella in two swigs and smiled at Ramona. Both women adopted determined but flirty stares.

“Ramona, you sold 14 million records in those years and you became the best fucking songwriter of your generation.”

Helene leaned forward and smirked into Ramona experienced hazel eyes.

“I want to do what you did. I don’t want to depend on other people showing up on time and not getting high, while cursing when they can’t keep up with my work ethic. I want to be Helene Troy, not Slipper Socks Medium. I want people to know me and only me.”

Helene saw Ramona look over her with pursed lips. Helene grew impatient. She walked around the bar. Ramona took one large step forward and threw her long fingers around Helene’s smooth cheeks. They ran their lips near each others, both breathing beer soaked breath around hungry faces. Helene hissed.

“Do it. I want you to.”

Ramona squeezed Helene’s face gently and kissed her, hard.

****blogger’s note****

This is a new Helene Troy story episode. You can find the rest of the story, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ 

Today’s song is something I’ve been wanting to use for this story for weeks. Helene’s made a move. This is what’s playing in her head at this moment, I think….Here’s Nine Inch Nails, Only.

Maps

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/18/silver-lining/

Overhead flourescent bulb light bouncing off the white granite bar top showed Helene Troy’s smile in her glass of whiskey. Thoughts of her band’s disastrous performance minutes earlier faded. Sitting in The White Room lounge, she couldn’t grasp that the woman drinking and talking with her was the same person she grew up admiring. Unaware of her younger companion’s smitteness, or perhaps coyly ignoring it, Ramona Gallery talked music.

“You know what song I love. I mean I not only wish I’ve written it but I wish I lived it?”

Helene looked into Ramona’s unapologetically crow’s foot accentuated hazel eyes and responded.

“Please say The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Maps. I read somewhere you loved Karen O. I kind of know her. I used to open for her ex boyfriend’s band.”

Ramona smiled broadly and ran her hand through her graying red hair.

“Absolutely! I think Karen is just gorgeous and smart and sings like she’s going to die tomorrow. That song is fucking amazing isn’t it? I wish I had a song that good.”

Helene marveled at her answer. She wanted to tell Ramona how much her music meant to her. She wanted to tell Ramona how she played her songs when she cried, broke up with guys, went out with friends, and got inspired to make her own. So Helene blurted.

“Burned is better than Maps. So is Loving An Idiot. Your best song is the title track from your first solo album, Snow and Ashes. It’s art. Every line is gut wrenching beautiful poetry. I played it so much I…..”

Helene couldn’t look Ramona. She thought she had acted like a stalker fan. She was expecting her to walk out of the bar and change her phone number. Helene began fidgeting with her long brown hair.

“Thank you Leney. Rolling Stone called it art school melodrama disguised as a pop anthem. I hated playing it for a long time.”

Helene raised her brows and her nostrils falred. She became indignant.

“Are you kidding me Ramona? The line “I spread the memory of our affair over the snow like ashes from an urn of regret” is something so great Joni Mitchell probably sat in a bar with Jewel in 1995 and said “you know what song I wished I’d written? That Snow and Ashes by Ramona Gallery. She’s fucking amazing!”

Helene’s voice was rising above the jazz music being played over a loudspeaker. Patrons looked at her oddly. Ramona laughed.

“Honey, I know Joni Mitchell. She wouldn’t be caught dead with Jewel. Joni also said Rolling Stone was full of shit.”

They laughed, clicked their glasses together and swigged their drinks. Ramona looked at Helene earnestly.

“You have talent Leney. Your writing is raw and heartfelt. Your guitar playing is outstanding. I’ve told several people that I met one of the best girl guitarists I’ve ever seen. You just need to figure out what you want and go get it. We have another songwriting session in two days. I hope you can make it. I’ll make sure you get paid.”

Helene felt like she was in Heaven. She reached over the bar and waved down a young male bartender and ordered a round.

Indie Ink prompt: snow and ashes

****blogger’s note****

This is my response to this week’s Indie Ink Challenge http://www.indieink.org/writing-challenges/  Chaos Mandy http://browncoatmom.blogspot.com/ challenged me with “Snow and Ashes”. I challenged Kurt http://muzzlediaries.blogspot.com/ with “write from point of view of the other woman in an affair”.

This is also a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. The story so far can be found here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/

Today’s song is The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Maps. Like Helene and Ramona I love Karen O. too. It’s weird to see this song on rock band.

The Sun, The Moon and The Stars

Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/10/12/justagirl/

On the train, Helene looked in her backpack and found a notepad and a broken pencil with just enough lead to write a few sentences. A melody wandered through her head. She clumsily sounded it out, “num nuh do dah oh, wah bah dum dah.” It wasn’t working. She and Sadie could strum out the melody on acoustic guitars at Mickey’s Bar & Grill later, Helene thought.  She scribbled lyrics.

“It’s my dream not yours, you can’t hate something that cures, the disease that wakes me at midnight, burning up from white hot light, that leaves me with scars. I’m not asking for much. I just want the sun, the moon, and stars.”

Helene put the jagged pencil to her forehead. She watched strands of brown hair fall over her hand. She moved the pencil behind her left ear and grinned coyly. The train stopped and she got off a few blocks from Mickey’s. Helene sat on a dusty silver bench next to a trash can. She wrote again.

“failure means doing nothing at all. It’s ridiculous to say music is my call. But I live to play, I can’t deny. Maybe I shouldn’t do something that makes me cry. I’m sick of the struggle. I’m sick of the bars. I’m not asking for much. I just want the sun, the moon, and the stars.”

Helene dialed Mickey’s.

“Hey, I’m going to work through my first break. I’m coming in a few minutes late. I have to do something really major. Bye.”

Helene walked up to the street and down 37th about two blocks. She excitedly opened the door to Ajax Tattoo & Piercing.

“I want the sun, the moon and the stars in black and white on my left wrist. I want to see it when I play guitar.”

*****blogger’s note****

This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. The rest of the story, so far, can be found here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This episode is my response to my friends at http://www.writeonedge.com

Red Writing Hood – Tattoos

This week we asked you to write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – in which a tattoo figures prominently. We wanted you to explore the many facets of tattoos: why someone would get them, what the meaning was, what the tattoo says about them. Word limit was 300.

Today’s song is mood music for what Helene was going through. I’m not an Augustana fan. They’re ok. I liked Stars and Boulevards when it came out about five or six years ago. It sort of fits here. Plus, I haven’t herad it in a while. Weird how you think of songs, sometimes? Here’s Augustana’s Stars and Boulevards.

It’s Not My Time

exterior shot of a blue flash Ford Explorer driving down a highway somewhere in Alabama

cut to interior shot of the car. a blonde woman tapping her toes on the dashboard and moving her chest in a tank top to the beat of  music. the driver is a scruffy faced, tan man with brown hair and brown eyes. The looks on their faces are tired and pensive.

Deana’s cute toes, highlighted with sparkling rose nail polish, sit on the dashboard. She sighs contently, and reaches for the car radio buttons with her left hand; nails the same color. A station plays “generation x” music. It makes her smile. She settles. Pitch perfect, Deana begins singing with the chorus “back to life, back to reality”. The 20 year old pop song memorializes the end to a revelatory weekend. Nothing will be the same. She slowly moves her head towards me and coos.

Deana:

 “You’re so handsome.”

The blue Ford Explorer rolled down the highway somewhere in Alabama. I smiled and became introspective. Happiness came in small doses with us, like the bag of Hershey’s kisses sitting between us in console. She leaned forward, turned the radio down and drawled.

Deana:

“If we died right now, I’d be alright with it. In a month we’ll’ve been married two years. No matter how much drama and craziness that happens to us, as long as we have each other forever, I’m happy.”

Her curly blonde hair bouncing off her smooth shoulders and around perfectly round, lightly tanned face rendered arguments impossible to win. I stared at the curves of her body contorted around the seat of the Ford Explorer. She was the most naturally beautiful woman I’d ever seen. After everything I had been through, I deserved her.

Lance:

“When we get back home I think we need to make a lot of changes to our lives. I haven’t put you first. There’ve been so many negative distractions.”

Deana starts to tear. Deep blue eyes water like tiny puddles of clear rain.

Deana:

“I’m glad you’ve finally come around to my way of thinkin’.”

She takes a black and pink cell phone from her green beach bag and deletes contacts and text messages. Her sweet southern accent fills the car again.

Deana:

“Alright, let’s get back to being happy. Alicia Silverstone and I look like sisters and we’re the same age, but Andy Garcia’s too old. We have figure out who plays you in the movie about us.”

I laugh, move the kisses from the console and pull out a CD. The only band we ever agreed on was 3 Doors Down. As I put the disc in the player, I momentarily take my eyes off the road. Deana screams,

Deana:

 ”Lance!”

A landscape truck and trailer pulls out in front of us. I floor the brakes.

cut scene to the man on a hospital gurney being worked on by nurses and doctors while It’s Not My Time by 3 Doors Down plays loudly.

*****blogger’s note*****

This my response to the RemembeRED prompt by Write On Edge – http://www.writeonedge.com ‘s “write the opening scene (under 500 words) of the movie about memoir/life.” Everything you read is true. This happened the second week of October, 2010.

Today’s song is indeed the only band my wife and I agree on. We play them a lot and loudly in the car. Here’s 3 Doors Down’s It’s Not My Time.

Talk About The Passion

I’ve only cheated once in my life and I’m not sorry. I was 15 years old, the same age as my oldest daughter. I told all my friends I liked the same music they did in 1985. Motley Crue, Van Halen, Def Leppard, and that ilk filled my cassette case. Sometime in that summer of 26 years ago, a friend of a friend asked me if I wanted to try “other” kinds of music. I was young, impressionable, eager, and curious. I said yes. I was given Murmur, R.E.M.’s 1983 debut album, on vinyl. Kids, vinyl is a record; round, you play it on a record player. Yes, I’m old.

When my parents weren’t paying attention, and my friends were away, I would play it in our living room on my parents stereo. It was completely different than anything I’d heard before. Guitars jangled, drums percussed hard and soft, and the singer alternated between mumbling oddly and singing personal lyrics about hurt, loneliness, caring for others, and wondering about the future. This wasn’t Diamond David Lee Roth screaming about chicks and booze. I continued the affair for years.I went to college with my infidelity until I finally came clean. Those other bands got stale. That popular music gave way to  other artists like R.E.M. Suddenly, it all didn’t seem so sullied and sly. By 1988, I was a college radio DJ in Tuscaloosa, Alabama paying my respects to the deity of the low wattage airwaves.

R.E.M. broke up today. By the time this posts it will officially be yesterday. They met as college students in Athens, Georgia, which is 40 miles from where I grew up. Thirty one years, fifteen albums, a rock and roll hall of fame induction, and more accolades than musical artists probably deserve, my teenage “other band” makes me feel good for knowing them. My personal relationship with R.E.M. turned into something more like a marriage or deep friendship. We had ups and downs. I couldn’t stand their late 80s foray into pop music with songs like Stand, Shiny Happy People and the overrated Losing My Religion. I loved their march into arena rock with the Monster album in 1994. I saw them live three times, 1989, 1991, and 1995. They actually got better each show. Most acts are amazing at the start, and suck at the end. R.E.M. aged like Bordeaux wine in an old French woman’s wine cellar.

My favorite band member, drummer Bill Berry, left the group in the mid 90s after brain surgery. He’s a humble farmboy with a wicked sense of dry humor. I met him twice. He treated me like he knew me and I almost felt like giving him my autograph. After his departure the group lost focus. They didn’t replace Bill and enigmatic singer Michael Stipe got more political and less artistic with his writing. I kind of had a falling out with the band after that and didn’t buy a a CD until 2007 when Accelerate came out. Suddenly guitarist Peter Buck was jangling again. Stipe was actually singing and not preaching. Bassist Mike Mills contributions to the band, so vital in the early years, were visible. The group was playing rock music and playing it well. I rediscovered every thing that I lusted after when I first heard R.E.M. so many years earlier.

For many, R.E.M. was a college radio icon full of integrity that traveled in a beat up green van, asked people to vote, and looked like they hated selling more than 12 records. The truth is R.E.M. cared. They cared more about things that rock bands ever acknowledged. They promoted other acts. They worked behind the scenes to help other artists become famous that wouldn’t have otherwise. R.E.M , especially Michael Stipe, could be frustratingly pious. Their passion was always evident. I said to a  friend who is more a Metallica guy, and never really dug R.E.M. “do you think if Metallica acted as socially conscious as R.E.M., would they have been successful.”, without hesitation he responded, “if every musical group acted the way R.E.M. did, people would elect rock stars for public office and the world would be a better place.” I think R.E.M. created the template that U2 uses for fame and fortune today.

Everything ends. Marriages, affairs, and rock bands. Thirty one years is longer than the first two of those usually last. R.E.M. leaves a legacy of well written songs, amazing musicianship and unbridled passion. That passion is their greatness.

Today’s song is cut four off the Murmur album. It’s the first thing I ever heard from R.E.M. because the person who gave me the vinyl record told me it was the best song. All of the songs on Murmur are good. Every one of them. I just think Talk About The Passion sums up why R.E.M. is one of the most important rock and roll bands ever. Thank you Michael, Peter, Mike, and Bill.