![Automatic For the People came out during one of the few blue stretches of my life. I’d just started grad school in an unfamiliar city and was the second-youngest kid in the class. Automatic was my most frequent late-night companion… until I realized that there were 7364 colleges in the Boston area and I had a penis. Anyway, it was good to hear R.E.M. take Ignoreland out of hibernation at MSG last night, along with a nice chunk of Reckoning and lean versions of the big’uns (Driver 8, Fall on Me, et al).
It dawned on me during the show that, for all the hours I’ve spent listening to R.E.M. over the years, I’ve never bothered to learn the precise lyrics. My companion was thus treated to the following loudly sung interpretation of the last verse of Disturbance at the Heron House: “Disturbance at the Heron House/[mumbled] at the [mumbled mumbled]/To [mumbled mumbled mumbled] under the [mumbled-something-that-rhymes-with-‘oh’].”
I hit the loo during Final Straw, which Stipe introduced as “a song I wrote after the Bush Administration’s incompetent response to Hurricane Katrina.” For the record, my departure was motivated less by political reasons than bladderial ones.
Separately, I need to get a cell phone with a camera more capable of capturing the awesome-seat-acquisition streak I’m on.
UPDATE: The bathroom-break special wasn’t Final Straw, it was Houston. I don’t like the new record very much.](http://26.media.tumblr.com/OuHLlVEJoag7l95mE0QNNoeb_400.jpg)
Automatic For the People came out during one of the few blue stretches of my life. I’d just started grad school in an unfamiliar city and was the second-youngest kid in the class. Automatic was my most frequent late-night companion… until I realized that there were 7364 colleges in the Boston area and I had a penis. Anyway, it was good to hear R.E.M. take Ignoreland out of hibernation at MSG last night, along with a nice chunk of Reckoning and lean versions of the big’uns (Driver 8, Fall on Me, et al).
It dawned on me during the show that, for all the hours I’ve spent listening to R.E.M. over the years, I’ve never bothered to learn the precise lyrics. My companion was thus treated to the following loudly sung interpretation of the last verse of Disturbance at the Heron House: “Disturbance at the Heron House/[mumbled] at the [mumbled mumbled]/To [mumbled mumbled mumbled] under the [mumbled-something-that-rhymes-with-‘oh’].”
I hit the loo during Final Straw, which Stipe introduced as “a song I wrote after the Bush Administration’s incompetent response to Hurricane Katrina.” For the record, my departure was motivated less by political reasons than bladderial ones.
Separately, I need to get a cell phone with a camera more capable of capturing the awesome-seat-acquisition streak I’m on.
UPDATE: The bathroom-break special wasn’t Final Straw, it was Houston. I don’t like the new record very much.
