In his book on Bruce Springsteen, historian Jim Cullen argued that the New Jersey-born rocker epitomizes the true Republican. He meant Republican, not in the politically charged manner that we talk about today, but in the Jeffersonian tradition of voicing the hearts and dreams of a people. Cullen's insight is telling, I think, for rarely do we see a Republican presence in art, especially popular music.
But we saw that tradition in REM.
The recent decision by the band to stop making music together, while certainly a shattering blow for fans, holds even wider significance than we might think. In the context of a dwindling record industry, the proliferation of new media niche markets, and a dying public consensus about what counts as good music, the loss of REM signals one more move away from a shared cultural consciousness.
REM's art is significant because its politics, visions and worldview became part of the social imaginary, part of our collective imagination. They helped millions of us see the world differently. Few artists are able to do that anymore.
Every splendid turn of their catalog pinpoints a new poetics about the importance of place (1986's "Cuyahoga"), the politics of war (1988's "World Leader Pretend"), the pitfalls of popular culture (1991's "Radio Song"), the intricacies of human sexuality (1994's "Crush with Eyeliner"), postmodern melancholy (2001's "Imitation of Life"), and personal discovery (2011's "Discoverer"). All told, roughly 70 million records worth of shared mental architecture for us to walk through.
And almost all of it was accessible, inviting, challenging, and done on mass levels: Popular culture at its best.
But when they signed the big deal with Warner Bros., their potential, and their credibility became questionable for some. They simply had gotten too big. They had become part of the machine.
Because of post-grunge trends in music, REM had been pushed aside years ago by hundreds of smaller bands, cutting their teeth on the so-called "independent" music scene. Smaller bands, smaller visions. And this movement began to push the vernacular and standards of what good pop music should be. They also created the proverbial villain of good music, the "sellout." If you weren't authentic, owning and selling your own music, keeping it local, playing for little or no money, you were not part of the blessed crowd.
Even mainstream criticism began to use this new movement as its mode of evaluation. In 2005, Chicago Tribune music writer Greg Cott wrote a scathing review of the band U2 who were touring in support of their new CD"How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb," writing that the band had lost any critical edge they might have had. They were playing the favorites, resting on the laurels of their previous successes. They were not, in other words, being authentic. They were not part of the cool crowd anymore.
In a defensive interview after the review was published, Bono made it clear to Cott that the band's definition of popular music strayed far from the current, dying independent music scene that had become so chic. He argued that music was meant to move culture, to enliven it to see new things: "That's what rock music can do right now. To be relevant, to set the imagination off on a new generation coming up. Songs that up the ante."
REM wrote that kind of song.
Certainly, indie music inspires its listeners, moves them to feel and believe new things. But the idealism that crafted the indie movement is long gone now, bought up by corporate culture, resold as authenticity with a price tag. The indie movement is dead. At least that's what Paste magazine said last year. For proof, turn on the radio.
What we are left with are corporate artists who sound good, look good, make us feel good, all the while anesthetizing our ability to feel the realities around us. We are left to small conversations inspired by good artists that play 2,000 seat clubs. We are left championing the obscure, claiming ownership over the minute, hitting skip on our Pandora.
In other words, we are not listening together much anymore. And as REM leaves us, we are left with only a handful of artists making music that matters to a lot of us at the same time. Of the current hit makers, perhaps Lady Gaga is the only populist artist able to straddle both the commercial and cultural trends of our society. She gets us into the arena with her bubblegum pop but also gives us some good things to chew on while we are there.
REM belongs to a class of musicians that unfortunately are losing their grip on cultural visions and conversations. On one, uninformed level, they sold out in order to make the big bucks. On another, more idealistic one, they used a global system of consumerism in order to offer a view of reality that many were able to appreciate, connect with, and pass on.