A Post Punk Tumblr

Let’s say R.E.M. went for twelve years, from 1981-1993, and broke up before putting out Monster (I dream of this possible past at least once a year). By 1999, we would have been ready for a comeback, and I have to wonder, if you took all the money they’ve made off their output from ‘94-‘06, if it wouldn’t be comparable to the profits from a reunion that everyone longed for. Think of how many fans they’ve lost in sticking around. Every one of them would be front row center, screaming for a reunion bid, as would the generation they’ve raised. Look at R.E.M.’s tour-mates Mission of Burma. There are plenty of precedents here, from Elvis to the Clash to U2 and the Cure (who blew a great opportunity with “End” and could have reformed cleanly in 1999).

What kills all the bands that don’t break up and don’t let it go—and their fans too—is that they never close the loop. They never put childish ways behind them, or at least they never lock the closet, playing with the same toys, the same songs we mowed lawns and made out and made up to. We all do this, we keep listening to the same songs, but when the bands are still playing them—older, fatter, slower—there’s no vacuum for nostalgia to fill. You can never return to the place where you started and know it for the first time if you never leave, so the act of listening to R.E.M. when they’re still around is tainted by what they are still trying to represent. You can’t remember R.E.M. circa ‘83 or ‘87 or ‘92 because of R.E.M. 2006. You can’t remember the band fondly, because they still exist: you can only remember the time period, and wonder, “What’s with the eye makeup these days, Mike?”

R.E.M. still made money through 2011, of course, but they made less history. Their mark continued to blur and bleed out from a once-brilliant point until it became a huge, hideous Rorschach blot, and nobody saw the same thing.

Shallow Rewards: Commentaries on Pop 2005-2012 by Chris Ott (via Findings.com)