R.E.M. legend Michael Stipe talks the legacy of the hit song Shiny Happy People and how singing it on The Muppets soothed a ‘cannibalism nightmare’
25 years on, the former rock band look back on the making of classic album Out Of Time
“WE had perfected the R.E.M. sound. It was time to destroy it.”
Michael Stipe chooses his words carefully, completing the sentence with a knowing stare for added tension.
He’s looking as dramatic as he sounds . . . bushy six-inch beard, gold ring in each nostril, red lumberjack shirt and pale grey beanie which he removes to reveal his shaved head.
Five years after the band’s amicable split, the singular frontman is putting events of 25 years ago in perspective.
We’re meeting at a boutique hotel in the heart of London’s Soho and find ourselves in a small side room seated at a round table beside an eye-watering amount of alcohol.
Stipe opts for a non-alcoholic fruit drink and also orders mashed avocado on toast.
“You’re welcome to share it,” he says, gesturing at the food.
“You’ll pardon me eating while we talk. We’ve been taped all day long and I wasn’t able to stick anything in my mouth.”
We’re joined by Stipe’s former bandmate Mike Mills, older, wiser maybe but similar in appearance to the Mills of yore, to talk about 1991’s Out Of Time, the strange album that catapulted R.E.M. into the stratosphere.
Now expanded with revealing extra discs of demos, videos and live performances, it’s an album that broke the mould alongside outsider releases from Nirvana, Pixies and Sonic Youth.
Out Of Time is strange because R.E.M. dumped signature alt-rock in favour of acoustic instruments such as mandolin, balalaika, strings, double bass and pedal steel guitar.
Strange because this was the first R.E.M. album not to be accompanied by a tour.
Strange because it included the ridiculously upbeat Shiny Happy People, later recast by the Muppets as Furry Happy Monsters.
Strange because it still delivered R.E.M.’s biggest song, Losing My Religion, 110million Spotify plays and counting.
Stipe sees it like this: “Many artists, some of whom I admire a great deal, find a sound and an attitude that they repeat for their entire careers.
“Others who I admire, like Neil Young, do the opposite. That was us. We didn’t want to write the same song over and over again.”
In the years leading up to Out Of Time, R.E.M. became college rock darlings with a string of fine albums for independent label I.R.S. . . . Murmur, Reckoning, Fables Of The Reconstruction, Lifes Rich Pageant and Document.
It shows how in touch with ourselves we were
By 1988, they had signed for major label Warner Bros and released sixth album Green, following it with a successful if gruelling world tour.
R.E.M.’s star was in the ascendant but Stipe, Mills, guitarist Peter Buck and drummer Bill Berry refused to stand still.
Mills picks up the story: “Being on the road for a year doing four or five nights a week was ridiculously difficult.
“We felt we’d done everything with the bass, drums, guitar line-up. We didn’t want to repeat ourselves so we said, ‘OK, we’ll write and play songs on different instruments.’”
An early decision not to tour had a hugely positive effect, as Mills explains: “We recorded with the freedom of not having to reproduce these songs on the road.”
As if riffing off his brother-in-arms, Stipe seems visibly enthused by heady days a quarter of a century ago.
“One thing about having 25 years in between is the objectivity one gains,” he admits. “This record shows how in touch with ourselves as creative people we were.
“This was a time of great change . . . in the UK, Margaret Thatcher was leaving office, the US was at war (in the Gulf) but the end of the Reagan and Bush Senior era was imminent.
“Things were changing. We saw the advent of computer technology, the end of Aids as a death threat and, as artists, we were capturing the zeitgeist.
“We created a record that has no idea where it’s going but is trying something new.”
These quick-fire thoughts inevitably draw parallels with the political upheavals of 2016, notably the election of Donald Trump as US President, which Stipe and Mills have found challenging.
Stipe describes the Trump question as “the elephant in the room,” fitting because the Republican party symbol is an elephant.
“Now if we want to move forward 25 years into right now, our country has just tried something new,” he begins.
“Hillary Clinton represented the Establishment, so people were trying to smash the machine.
“I campaigned very heavily for (losing Democrat nominee) Bernie Sanders and I stand by his decision to support the new administration’s aim of getting ordinary Americans back on their feet.
“But if there’s a shred of xenophobia, racism, misogyny, any of that, then I will stand in their way every step of the way.”
Mills adds: “People are sick of being marginalised and forgotten. But these guys (Trump and co) have no idea how to run a government.”
Stipe interjects: “Well, that’s cleared the air! Let’s get back to the record.”
So can he explain the phenomenal success of Losing My Religion, with its opaque but memorable lyrics that hint at unrequited love?
“It’s really fun to sing along to,” suggests the vocalist. “It’s a participatory song and it’s a little heartbreaking. Perhaps it taps into a sentiment that is universal.
What we all really seek out in art is something that touches us and feels real
Mills says Losing My Religion is probably R.E.M.’s best-known song, with only Everybody Hurts and It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) running it close.
But Stipe, proving his precise knowledge of the band’s history, says: “Technically, as far as the UK is concerned, The Great Beyond is a bigger hit.”
That song, written for the film Man On The Moon, reached No3 in 1999 . . . not to be confused with the Automatic For The People track, also about entertainer Andy Kaufman.
We turn our attention to the song that divides R.E.M. fans more than any other, Shiny Happy People, which I suggest is the odd man out on Out Of Time.
“To me they’re all odd men out,” replies Stipe. “Shiny Happy People is the odd man out for seven-year-olds but we were throwing away the recipe book.”
To write a tongue-in-cheek happy song’s hard
Mills refutes the common belief that the band didn’t like the song. “I love it,” he says. “When I listen to it, which is rarely, I really enjoy it. To write a non-tongue-in-cheek happy song is very hard.”
For Stipe, it was a task he couldn’t refuse. “The guys would give me pieces of music that were so ebullient and bubblegum that I’d be like, ‘OK, I accept your challenge and I raise you, we’re going to call this one Shiny Happy People.’
“It was written to be as pop as it could possibly be, absurdly, ridiculously pop.”
He drew on the plastic sounds of his youth, as he explains: “I’m a few years younger than the others and I didn’t have an older brother or sister who was a music fan.
“So for me it was all about The Archies (Sugar Sugar), The Banana Splits and The Monkees. I wore a little watch cap (the American expression for beanie) because of Mike Nesmith and I’m still wearing one today.
“OK, I don’t want it to be the song R.E.M. are remembered by in 100 years’ time but it should be recognised as one of our minor hits . . . though not our finest moment.”
It was a natural progression, therefore, that Shiny Happy People finished up on Sesame Street as Furry Happy Monsters.
Mills says: “We might not have done other songs with the Muppets but that one fitted. They had already rewritten it as Furry Happy Monsters and we said, ‘All right, why not?’ It’s not as if we were tarnishing its legacy.”
The day the band pitched up at the TV studio started badly for Stipe, as he recalls: “I’m not a man who has nightmares very often but before we woke up to do the Muppets’ show, I had a terrible one.
“It was like the last scene of Satyricon (a Latin work of fiction) where the guy says, ‘All of my wealth is yours but you have to eat my body.’
“So it was a nightmare of cannibalism and from that I went into Muppet world. If you look at the footage, you’ll see I’m unshaven and look a little solemn. It took half a day of Muppets to pull me out.”
I kiss the ring of Mick Jagger
To Stipe, the most important Out Of Time song is Country Feedback, one of his “list songs” like It’s The End Of The World As We Know It.
He says: “I was trying to push myself as a lyricist. Country Feedback resonates because it’s a song of lists, a set of things that may seem incongruous or inarticulate but paint a narrative in a very different way.
“Those were the songs which I felt, throughout our 32 years, were closest to whatever’s my source . . . the dervish, the trance-like state, the beautiful stuff.”
As for Mike, singing co-lead on Near Wild Heaven and on all of Texarkana, might have pointed to a new career direction but he says: “I don’t want to blow smoke up Michael’s ass, but he’s one of the best singers in a rock milieu in the history of the world.
“If I’d wanted to be singer, I’d have started a band where I was the singer.”
Finally, I have to ask, is R.E.M. truly over? “Absolutely,” returns Stipe. “It was not an easy choice because we’re all performers and we love writing together but it’s the path we’ve chosen.”
He doesn’t blame bands like the Rolling Stones for carrying on and is full of praise for their ever-energetic singer.
“I kiss the ring of Mick Jagger. He’s the template who created a persona so big and so perfect that everyone who followed had to respond to it. I absolutely honour him.”
Mills, who has just toured his concerto for violin, rock band and string orchestra, says: “You do it either because you’re not getting satisfaction anywhere else or you do it for money.
“Neither of those reasons are present in our lives, so why would we do it?”
Next up for Stipe, who lives in New York working on various visual art projects, is a new album by electroclash duo Fischerspooner, which he produces, co-writes and calls “crazy and hyper, hyper-sexual.”
He acknowledges his “beautiful voice” but here he sings backing vocals for Casey Spooner.
“I would love to sing lead again but, for now, I’m happy to be David Bowie at the keyboards behind his Iggy Pop.”