Talk about the passion

R.E.M. announced that they were calling it quits today.  As a longtime fan I'm a little sad that they're hanging it up as a band, but they had a long, remarkably consistent run.  The last two albums have been a return to form after easily their weakest effort and thus make for as appropriate of a way for them to close the book as anything. 

Perhaps there will be the standard new album and reunion down the line, but I don't get the sense they'll take that path.  Whether they were a big underground band or a big (and somewhat unlikely) mainstream rock outfit, they didn't seem to be all that different.  I get the sense that the guys will continue to work on their own projects and be content to see where that takes them.

As best I can remember, the first time I heard R.E.M. was when "The One I Love" began getting radio play.  I was a freshman in high school and not particularly into "alternative" music.  In fact, I thought they and some of their peers were weird. 

For that matter, I didn't buy music then.  I listened to the radio but wasn't all that caught up in rock and roll.  Document produced some pop hits, as did their major label debut Green, and I had friends who were fans.  Still, I didn't get on board until Out of Time and "Losing My Religion", which I consider among my all-time favorite songs.

For me U2 and R.E.M.--the two were virtually inseparable as modern rock titans--became a gateway to another kind of music being made that was at least a bit off the beaten path and of my generation.  To like R.E.M. was to assert one's identity as quite distinctly different from the hair metal bands and classic rock vestiges that dominated the rock mainstream then.

For a time R.E.M. surely held the title as my favorite band.  I collected albums and singles and lusted for the imports I'd see at record stores but wouldn't buy due to their high price tags and sketchy origins.  I desperately wanted to see them live, but I became a fan right when they took an extended break from touring.

I finally got to see them two days before my college graduation in 1995.  Despite buying tickets in advance through the radio station where I was doing part-time work, I didn't have a great seat, but it didn't much matter.  I managed to see them two other times, in Cleveland in 1999 and in Cincinnati in 2004. 

That last time seeing them was fraught with my peril.  Originally the concert was scheduled for Akron.  I had a seat in the second or third row--fantastic!--and just happened to find out a few weeks before it that the concert was cancelled.  It was rescheduled for Cincinnati and put on sale with little notice where I live.  I was the first (and only) person in line at Ticketmaster when I plunked down the money to see them.  This time I ended up in the front row.  I could hardly believe my luck.  If that is to be my final memory of seeing the band, how can I complain?

R.E.M. hasn't been a huge band in commercial terms in a long time, certainly not what they were in the late '80s through mid '90s.  Whereas The Beatles and Led Zeppelin were still touchstones for my generation, does R.E.M. fill the same role for today's high school and college students?  I tend to doubt it, mainly because they were never THAT massive, but the music blogs have healthy respect for them that may sustain R.E.M. through younger listeners.

For those my age, though, it does feel like a shift.  My Twitter feed had plenty of comments and memories from fellow Generation Xers about the band's role in shaping what they listened to and what it was like to see them live.  I feel like they and U2 were on that last wave where being the biggest band in the world meant something.  As much as I love some of their inheritors--Arcade Fire, for instance--is it still possible for a rock group to penetrate mass consciousness like that? 

Although the mainstream was hip to them for awhile, R.E.M. was never a trendy band, and that may be a key reason why they will endure.  Listening to their songs and albums today, they don't sound especially dated.  Sure, I link them to specific periods in my life, and I suppose at some point I may listen to them out of nostalgia.  The workmanlike solidity of their music should still hold appeal, though, for future teenagers...or so I hope.  R.E.M. was never The Beatles, nor was that what they were meant to be.  Nevertheless, they are a defining band of the '80s and '90s, and it'd be nice to know that they have a deserved place in the canon in the years to come.

Throwback

While walking to the arena for tonight's hockey game, I heard Survivor's "Burning Heart" from Rocky IV playing outside a restaurant/bar. I LOVED this song in junior high. It feels like it's been about that long since I heard it. (It truly may be 15-20 years since it has caught my ears.)

In college I hosted an '80s pop showcase--The '80s Fallout Shelter--on the school's radio station. None of that stuff was getting played on the radio at the time, so it was fun to dig up the one-hit wonders, lesser remembered singles, and big hits to play over the airwaves. It wasn't nostalgia exactly, and even if it were, how can you really understand that at 20?

Honestly, I'm still too young to feel that shock of time's passage and exclusive fondness for something from my youth, but hearing this song in passing tonight, it had the strange effect of cutting through the years and taking me back even though I wasn't in that mindset when the tune hit me. Such things are called throwbacks for a reason.

A Sort of Homecoming

Every October my alma mater, like other institutions of higher learning, welcomes its graduates back to campus. It's a time for meeting up with friends from one's college days, seeing how the school has changed, watching a football game, and recapturing a little of the spirit from a period in time that many people describe as the best years of their lives.

As I sat in the press box keeping stats for the homecoming game, I listened to other people talk about how great their time in college was and how much they missed it, especially in the first few years after commencement.

While I enjoyed my time in college, I'd like to believe that better days are ahead, that the most exciting time in life doesn't come to a screeching halt at 21 or 22. Of course, one could say that I don't have much room to talk because, in a sense, I never left. Until I moved two years ago, I lived within a block of campus and have been working there in a part-time or full-time capacity since graduating.

Granted, that was never the plan. I picked up some extra money keeping official statistics for football and basketball while doing forty hours per week of temp work during my job searches and non-searches. Being around led to some part-time work where I would eventually become employed full-time.

In one capacity or another I've worked during homecoming and have attended it every year since I finished school. For me it hasn't been a big deal--I see this place practically every day--so it hasn't meant much to me. I've watched how the campus has transformed and don't feel a need to wander around. Thus I don't usually bump into any old classmates unless they let me know in advance that they're coming.

This afternoon, as my alma mater made an impressive comeback to win the game and remain undefeated, I did feel a sense of the old school pride as the seconds ticked off the scoreboard andas I hoofed it across the damp, leaf-strewn lawns to my car. (All those visiting alumni kept me from parking by the stadium.)

I enjoy the energy, curiosity, and camaraderie that the academic environment can provide unlike anywhere else, and I understand why people wistfully recall their time in such a place. I may miss out on the nostalgic rush that comes form returning to my stomping grounds after years away, but getting a little bit of that every day at work isn't such a bad trade-off.

Transition

The academic quarter is winding down. Yesterday was the last meeting of the term with the students who are earning credit or volunteering to do what we do. The seniors were given time to share some final thoughts as they sit on the verge of leaving the collegiate atmosphere and entering "the real world".

The vibe in the room was surprisingly bittersweet. Many of the seniors spoke of how the college years had been (and will probably have been) the best time of their lives, how they'd made lifelong friends, and how they were sad this time was coming to an end.

Maybe the gloomy sentiments being expressed had more to do with the particular students, some of whom are probably realizing they didn't take full advantage of the career-building opportunities afforded them over the last four years. Maybe it's because none of them have fulltime jobs lined up and some even seem unsure of what work to pursue.

To those students I want to say that life does not get less interesting or end once you've left the halls of academia and join the workforce. The fun may change form, but life will continue to provide it. After all, you're about to embark on an exciting--and, admittedly, potentially terrifying--time in which you have full control of writing your own story. Spending too much time looking back, particularly at your age, means you're overlooking what's happening today.

Sure, there will be struggles, whether they are landing that first job, living in or relocating to a place where friends don't surround you every minute of the day, or scraping by financially. It may well be the first time you've truly been on your own or been held responsible. That will take some adjustment, especially if everything has come easily or been handed to you until now. Glean lessons from the mistakes and hardships and dispose of them rather than carrying them around.

Don't think you must have everything figured out once the college president hands over the diploma. Here's a clue: the rest of us may appear to have firmer grasps on what lives to lead, but we haven't solved it all. At least I haven't.

Your learning isn't done and good times aren't over unless you decide that's how it will be. Be curious. Be passionate. Keep a hopeful mindset even in the midst of rough patches because it will make a world of difference.

Perhaps a new graduation tradition needs to be started to remind you to view it less as an ending and more as a transition. Your name is announced, you walk across the stage, you receive your paperwork, and then you are pointed out of the commencement ceremony's area to where friends and family await. Feel free to look back with fondness, but remember to keep moving forward.

Grease is the word

In an effort to be less insufferable today, I turn to an entry about food. My recollections on Rax have netted more site traffic than many entries and are apparently the subject of someone's Facebook page, not that I can see that conversation.

At a work event tonight I had some pizza from a place that was the favorite from my college days because it was cheap, it was tastier alternative to the dining hall, and delivery was free. I hadn't had any in awhile--maybe a year--but with that first taste I was ready to devour an entire pizza.

I restrained myself, of course, but what a powerful experience to taste that food again. I hold no illusions that it's not objectively good pizza, but there's something very appealing about it. So what's the key to making it so addictive? My college friends and I determined that it must be the grease.

The joke among my circle was that they didn't make these pizzas in ovens but that they dunked them in deep fryers. The little pools of grease in the pepperonis were proof positive that these things were soaked in the stuff. Oh, delicious, delicious grease. Strangely, extra grease was not on the ingredients list.

The size we would get depended on how many of us chipped in, but an extra large was pretty common. It was so common, in fact, that it earned its own name. I believe I'm the one who dubbed it "The Bastard". From then on we rarely referred to it no other way. Legend has it that one time it was even ordered under this name.

The extra large pepperoni from this establishment earned its illegitimate name because of how it treated the digestive tract. If it was eaten at late hours, which it often was, the inevitable result was being rudely awakened in the middle of the night with intestinal distress.

Eating this pizza again brings back memories of late nights hanging out in the dormitories. Let's hope that's all that returns this evening.