Take comfort...
Jun. 18th, 2005 09:41 amThey played what I already knew was going to be my favorite of the songs they would actually play ("Bad Day," my fondness for which I haven't managed to explain or justify yet) second, so I guess after that it was a slow decline for me, but I still sang along with nearly every song, except the ones from their new album because I don't know most of them.
Anyway, I sang along with everything, until "Everybody Hurts."
Everybody around us cheered when they heard the intro, and sang at the top of their lungs, and waved their arms in the air and swayed back and forth. But I stood still, and for a change Andrew, standing behind me, decided that I wasn't a percussion instrument and REM concerts weren't interpretive dance events.
I was staying still because I know, even before I got here the first time, that Andrew really doesn't like "Everybody Hurts." I remember him telling me about this in a phone conversation once, but the explanation is also here.
He doesn't dislike it because it's a bad song or anything--on the contrary, he says "The vocals are among the best the band ever did, and the lyrics among Stipe's simplest, and in all, this track rightly deserves its ubiquitous presence on the radio and in best record of the 90s lists." But then he goes on.
Of course, there are also things I think of that would never cross Andrew's mind. But he thinks about music more--and more thoroughly--than I do, and anyway, despite what I said in the last entry about having no friends, I don't think I had the perspective to come up with his reason for disliking the song, no matter how reasonable it seems to me when it's explained.
So I just sort of stood there as they played the song. I was tired, I hadn't eaten much all day (none of the overpriced grease being sold there tempted me in the slightest), we were close enough to the front that I was getting walked into every three seconds, we'd paid a bunch of money we didn't really have to get here and, it seemed, as much again to get Andrew enough drinks that he wouldn't waste away in the heat and humidity. Still, I love REM and I was thrilled to be, finally, at one of their concerts (I'd been promised this way back in October, I think). Now I could stop feeling so jealous when Andrew spoke nonchalantly of the four times he'd seen them. The score is 5-1 now, of course, but I hope to catch up some day.
While I was thinking about all of this, Andrew put his hot, clammy arms around my shoulders and rested his head next to mine. He started talking but I couldn't hear; I caught on at the end. The only bit I remember now is, "I still don't like the song, but it doesn't make me angry any more. Because I've got you." (That'd been the point, apparently: I Got You. Babe.) "I didn't notice before, because I probably haven't played the song snce we've been together properly. But now I don't feel that lonely anymore, becuase I've got a Holly."
I put my hands around his arms, still around my neck, and closed my eyes for a second, everyone else still bellering the words around me. I did not remember anything I'd been thinking about before, not the money or the tiredness or even how glad I was to see REM. It only lasted a second, before Andrew said something else and I opened my eyes again.
But I've felt almost that good ever since.
Anyway, I sang along with everything, until "Everybody Hurts."
Everybody around us cheered when they heard the intro, and sang at the top of their lungs, and waved their arms in the air and swayed back and forth. But I stood still, and for a change Andrew, standing behind me, decided that I wasn't a percussion instrument and REM concerts weren't interpretive dance events.
I was staying still because I know, even before I got here the first time, that Andrew really doesn't like "Everybody Hurts." I remember him telling me about this in a phone conversation once, but the explanation is also here.
He doesn't dislike it because it's a bad song or anything--on the contrary, he says "The vocals are among the best the band ever did, and the lyrics among Stipe's simplest, and in all, this track rightly deserves its ubiquitous presence on the radio and in best record of the 90s lists." But then he goes on.
Or it would do, except for one line.I rmeember him telling me this and my previous, superficial fondness for this song (though I did like the video ... or at least I remember liking it when I saw it, but it was at a time in my life when my tastes were even more questionable than they are now) dissolving almost completely. This was one of the first points at which it became clear that I was dealing with someone who thought about things that never crossed my mind; I was left wondering if I'd liked the song for any reason other than that it seemed like I should.
The second line of the chorus to this song, which is intended to comfort suicidal teenagers, is 'take comfort in your friends'. Now this may be the single most misjudged line in the history of lyric writing, for it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Michael Stipe does not know what he's talking about when it comes to depression.
When you're depressive, you have no friends. Most of the time this is only true in one's mind (as a depressive myself I know how large a part self-pity plays in people's thoughts when they're in a depressive patch, and when you feel like that it's hard to believe anyone really cares about you - many people who kill themselves actually believe they are doing their friends and family a favour), but there are times when it is literally true as well - for all too many people their teenage years are times when they really do have no friends and no-one to turn to, when they feel alone and helpless in an essentially malign world.
This song, because of the inclusion of that line, can (and apparently does) help those who might be temporarily down, but everyone who has really, truly suffered from depression that I've spoken to has said this song just makes them feel worse.
Yes, Michael, everybody does hurt sometimes, but some people have a great huge gaping fucking wound in the centre of their soul, that sometimes closes up slightly but never truly stops hurting. And by including that line in the song, Stipe has made sure that for me at least (and for several other people I know who have mentioned this independently) there are times when this otherwise great song is unlistenable, because it seems almost to be a taunt, and it opens up that gaping wound even wider.
Of course, there are also things I think of that would never cross Andrew's mind. But he thinks about music more--and more thoroughly--than I do, and anyway, despite what I said in the last entry about having no friends, I don't think I had the perspective to come up with his reason for disliking the song, no matter how reasonable it seems to me when it's explained.
So I just sort of stood there as they played the song. I was tired, I hadn't eaten much all day (none of the overpriced grease being sold there tempted me in the slightest), we were close enough to the front that I was getting walked into every three seconds, we'd paid a bunch of money we didn't really have to get here and, it seemed, as much again to get Andrew enough drinks that he wouldn't waste away in the heat and humidity. Still, I love REM and I was thrilled to be, finally, at one of their concerts (I'd been promised this way back in October, I think). Now I could stop feeling so jealous when Andrew spoke nonchalantly of the four times he'd seen them. The score is 5-1 now, of course, but I hope to catch up some day.
While I was thinking about all of this, Andrew put his hot, clammy arms around my shoulders and rested his head next to mine. He started talking but I couldn't hear; I caught on at the end. The only bit I remember now is, "I still don't like the song, but it doesn't make me angry any more. Because I've got you." (That'd been the point, apparently: I Got You. Babe.) "I didn't notice before, because I probably haven't played the song snce we've been together properly. But now I don't feel that lonely anymore, becuase I've got a Holly."
I put my hands around his arms, still around my neck, and closed my eyes for a second, everyone else still bellering the words around me. I did not remember anything I'd been thinking about before, not the money or the tiredness or even how glad I was to see REM. It only lasted a second, before Andrew said something else and I opened my eyes again.
But I've felt almost that good ever since.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 10:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 01:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 01:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 12:49 pm (UTC)Agreed on all points.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-20 01:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 02:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 03:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 02:12 pm (UTC)But, I'm glad you left the entry on a positive note. You two are just so cute I could barf. :) Someday, I'll have similar sweet-nothings said into my ear. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-18 03:11 pm (UTC)I know. Serves me right, doesn't it? For all those years I spent making fun of my friends and their relationships (Katie could tell you all about that) and their fondness for chick flicks, and here I am sometimes feeling like I'm in one!
And I'm sure you'll find someone to be your sweet-nothing provider, soon enough.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-24 10:35 pm (UTC)I did have sweet nothings whispered in my ear this weekend... ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 07:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-20 10:26 am (UTC)This may be true for some depressives, but it's certainly not true for all. There have been times when friends have been, if not exactly a comfort, then at least the last thing holding me together. And often the problem is not so much "I have no friends" as "Having friends is not enough when other stuff in my life is so broken."
But it certainly wouldn't help me if, when depression made me feel friendless and unloved, people were to say "Yes, you're right, you have no friends." Even if I can't really believe it at the time when they tell me that I do, I'd much rather they carried on telling me that I did have friends (because it speaks to the bits of my brain that can know things intellectually even when I can't feel them emotionally) than that they just gave up.
Furthermore, Andrew doesn't know how Michael Stipe feels -- whether he or anybody close to him has experienced "true" depression -- any more than Michael Stipe knows how Andrew feels.
Sorry for the rant, but people claiming a monopoly on knowledge about depression is something that makes me really angry.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-20 10:46 am (UTC)Without that line, the "you're not alone" and so on in the song would be a more generalised expression of support. By saying "take comfort in your friends" the song is saying "you people who *really* need help? The ones with *no* friends at all? You don't matter. It's only the ones with one or more people who are already supporting them who matter. Fuck you friendless people"
Being reassured that you do have friends *when you do have them* is a wonderful thing. Telling people who are alone and ostracised by their peers to 'take comfort in your friends' is just rubbing salt in the wound. Given that the song is specifically aimed at those people, it seems to me to be a horrible misstep.
I was not claiming a monopoly on knowledge about depression, incidentally. The vast majority of people I know at the moment are clinically depressive. I spoke to many of them about that song before writing that piece, and every one of them said "I thought I was the only one who felt that way about it!". I also had a dozen or so messages from people on E2 about that piece - one of the highest rated things I've done on there - and all agreed with me, as do many others (see