\nN\u00e5r man ser og h\u00f8rer dem i dag, som en meget fastt\u00f8mret enhed, der n\u00e6rmest synes lidt udmattet af sin egen m\u00e6gtige historie, er det sv\u00e6rt at huske R.E.M. som det lille band, der voksede ud af Athens, Georgia og n\u00e6sten egenh\u00e6ndigt reddede amerikansk rockmusik, som vi har lyst til at kende den. Men s\u00e5dan var virkeligheden og de fleste af os, der h\u00f8rte deres f\u00f8rste forfinede musik, der p\u00e5 \u00e9n gang l\u00f8d lidt af The Byrds og lidt af The Band og meget af noget helt nyt, endnu ikke kortlagt, har siden haft sv\u00e6rt ved at glemme den oplevelse af uspoleret sk\u00f8nhed, vi fandt der. R.E.M. voksede sig med \u00e5rene k\u00e6mpestore og mistede undervejs, som det selvf\u00f8lgelig sker, meget af den soniske uskyld og charme, vi umiddelbart faldt for. Michael Stipe, forsanger og tekstforfatter i s\u00e6rklasse, bliver i dag 47 \u00e5r – det fejrer vi her med en ordret gengivelse af den for Stipe s\u00e5 typisk stream-of-conciousness-skrevne E-Bow The Letter, et bevis p\u00e5 at han og R.E.M. endnu, selv i de senere, for dem lidt fattige \u00e5r, er leveringsdygtige i sublime oplevelser.<\/p>\n
E-BOW THE LETTER<\/p>\n
Look up, what do you see?
\n All of you and all of me
\n Fluorescent and starry
\n Some of them, they surprise<\/p>\n
The bus ride, I went to write this, 4:00 a.m.
\n This letter
\n Fields of poppies, little pearls
\n All the boys and all the girls sweet-toothed
\n Each and every one a little scary
\n I said your name<\/p>\n
I wore it like a badge of teenage film stars
\n Hash bars, cherry mash and tinfoil tiaras
\n Dreaming of Maria Callas
\n Whoever she is
\n This fame thing, I don’t get it
\n I wrap my hand in plastic to try to look through it
\n Maybelline eyes and girl-as-boy moves
\n I can take you far
\n This star thing, I don’t get it<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over, there
\n I’ll take you over, there
\n Aluminum, tastes like fear
\n Adrenaline, it pulls us near<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over
\n It tastes like fear, there
\n I’ll take you over<\/p>\n
Will you live to 83?
\n Will you ever welcome me?
\n Will you show me something that nobody else has seen?
\n Smoke it, drink
\n Here comes the flood
\n Anything to thin the blood
\n These corrosives do their magic slowly and sweet
\n Phone, eat it, drink
\n Just another chink
\n Cuts and dents, they catch the light
\n Aluminum, the weakest link<\/p>\n
I don’t want to disappoint you
\n I’m not here to anoint you
\n I would lick your feet
\n But is that the sickest move?
\n I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow
\n And who’d have thought tomorrow could be so strange?
\n My loss, and here we go again<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over, there
\n I’ll take you over, there
\n Aluminum, tastes like fear
\n Adrenaline, it pulls us near<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over
\n It tastes like fear, there
\n I’ll take you over<\/p>\n
Look up, what do you see?
\n All of you and all of me
\n Fluorescent and starry
\n Some of them, they surprise<\/p>\n
I can’t look it in the eyes
\n Seconal, Spanish fly, absinthe, kerosene
\n Cherry-flavored neck and collar
\n I can smell the sorrow on your breath
\n The sweat, the victory and sorrow
\n The smell of fear, I got it<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over, there
\n I’ll take you over, there
\n Aluminum, tastes like fear
\n Adrenaline, it pulls us near<\/p>\n
I’ll take you over
\n It tastes like fear, there
\n I’ll take you over<\/p>\n
Pulls us near
\n Tastes like fear.<\/p>\n
Nearer, nearer
\n Over, over, over, over
\n Yeah, look over
\n I’ll take you there, oh, yeah
\n I’ll take you there
\n Oh, over
\n I’ll take you there
\n Over, let me
\n I’ll take you there..
\n There, there, baby, yeah<\/p>\n
\u00a9 Stipe, Buck, Mills, Berry<\/p>\n
http:\/\/youtube.com\/watch?v=a1RRNiHzSbM<\/p>\n