Once upon a time before the internet I used to listen to the radio and I lived inside all these corny pathos filled, R&B Pop songs on top ten count downs and call in dedications and I cherished them all. And once upon a time there was once a magazine called Sassy, a magazine that spoke to the adolescent in me about things I was really concerned about, like visiting the gynecologist for the first time, birth control, candid interviews with artists I respected or had never heard of and fashion spreads with females who did not look like they had eating disorders.
In one particular issue there was a weird floppy pullout thing, which I discovered was a vinyl album which was somehow inside the pages. The album was a single by a band called REM, which I had never heard of. I figured out a way to play it on my father’s record player and heard this strange high sweet voice, which I think thought belonged to a man. It was a very short song and it left me with an odd feeling I had never experienced from hearing a song before. What was it about? Who was that singing? I played it several times never really sure if I liked. I knew somehow that this type of music was beyond my rock/RB/Pop aesthetic at the time but the sad sweetness of that feeling; I never forgot it and I never forgot the floppy record it was delivered on.
Years later I became a REM fan but could never recall that song or recover that album. But tonight, on the Sassy Facebook Fanpage, someone who has that exact album posted a live performance of Michael Stipe and REM singing that song: Dark Globe which is actually the cover of a the original song by Syd Barret.
Will my mind ever be so un-muddled again as it was when I sat as a new teenager and listened to that odd song? I still remembered the lyrics. How can something you haven’t heard in almost 18 years still be inside you, like something waiting to be found again, never leaving?
“Oh where are you now
Pussy willow that smiled on this leaf?
When I was alone you promised the stone from your heart
My head kissed the ground
I was half the way down, treading the sand
Please, please, lift a hand
I'm only a person whose armbands beat
On his hands, hang tall
Won't you miss me?
Wouldn't you miss me at all?
The poppy birds way
Swing twigs coffee brands around
Brandish her wand with a feathery tongue
My head kissed the ground
I was half the way down, treading the sand
Please, please, please lift the hand
I'm only a person with Eskimo chain
I tattooed my brain all the way...
Won't you miss me?
Wouldn't you miss me at all?”
