R.E.M. - Automatic For The People

R.E.M. – Automatic For The People

Ana and I sit in the back seat of the limousine, on our way to drop off our cousin Sara. Ana is dressed in black, as usual, but her customary cheerful mood has been clouded over by a shroud of depression. I know I should try to cheer her up, but I lack the strength to give it a good shot. I’m sad too, but I am reluctant to express it. I’m supposed to be the strong, happy one in the family and I don’t want to let Ana down. So, I try to make some small talk.

“Hey, Have you heard the new R.E.M. album yet?”

She looks at me with a chilling sideways glance. “What?”

I scoot nearer to her, even though we are alone in the limo. Our parents are riding with Sara’s parents in another limo ahead of us. I reach out and grab my sister’s pale, white hand and pull her closer to me. I put my arm around her, in what I hope is a comforting gesture.

“I said: Have you heard R.E.M.’s new album Automatic For The People?”

She rolls her eyes back in her usual, annoying manner and turns to face me.

“David I am not in the mood for one of your dumb reviews. Besides, Chris just got the tape and he says it sucks. So leave me alone.”

I resist the urge to throttle her for calling my reviews “dumb” and instead decide to continue the topic: “ Really? Chris didn’t like it? Why not? What did he say?”

She turns away and stares once more off into the distant views her window offers and mutters: “He said it sucks and it’s boring.”

“Whoa! I thought Chris had better taste than that,” I poke. Then I add: “Then again, he is dating you.”

She elbows me in the ribs, quite hard.

“Just kidding,” I laugh. “No, really. He didn’t like it? I’m sorry to hear that.” I pause. Then, “Wait a minute. Didn’t Chris like the Out Of Time album? Wasn’t ‘Shiny Happy People’ his favorite song?”

“Yeah. And…?”

“Well, that explains it! He has no taste! C’mon, ‘Shiny Happy People’? That has to be the worst made-for-cash song in history. You know that’s true as well as I do. Chris is one of those R.E.M. fans that think Green was their first album.”

This makes her smile. “Yeah,” she giggles. “He is a trendy bastard. But he is cute, though.”

It is my turn to laugh. It’s working! I got her to smile. She hasn’t smiled much lately. I need to see her like this. So I continue.

“Anyway, the reason he doesn’t like it is probably because it is not like the commercial crap they’ve dished out on the last three albums. This record is brilliant and it is so depressing.”

At the mention of the word ‘depressing’ her eyes light up. I know right there that I have her full attention. My sister is weird. She is what my friends call a “Goth Chick.” Even though she is basically a happy kid, she thrives on the poetic image of depression, and expresses those feelings through her drab mode of dress.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s full of slow, sad songs.”

“Like Fables Of The Reconstruction?”

“Even more so. At least Fables had ‘Can’t Get There From Here’ to break the angst of the album. Automatic For The People doesn’t even have that. There are no upbeat poppy songs on this one. The entire disc has an underlying theme of death and despair to it. Even the one faster song ‘The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight’ is a bit sad. I tell you this is a total change in the stupid direction towards which R.E.M. had been heading. I don’t really expect many people to like this recording, even though Rolling Stone gave it five stars. And that’s good. I think R.E.M. were getting a bit too comfortable with their popularity. This record is a risk. But one that I believe is well worth taking.”

Ana looks at me for a moment, gathering her thoughts, and then she says: “What if R.E.M. did this record just to get back on the good side of all their original fans that they abandoned when they went Top 40? What if they are just sucking up to the old fans, to get us to like them again? I don’t trust them.”

I look out the window and see that we are approaching our destination. Sara’s private car is pulling in through the gates. I turn back to Ana.

“Yes, that might be the case. But, at least they put out a great album. Songs like ‘Everybody Hurts’ and ‘Night swimming’ tug at your heart. They even do a bittersweet tribute to Andy Kauffman from Taxi in their song ‘Man On The Moon.’ It’s great. I really think that Sara would love Automatic For The People.”

“Yeah Sara loves depressing music. She is just like me.”

“Was,” I correct her. Bad move.

Ana bursts into tears. “Why did she do it? Why did she cut out on me? That’s not fair. I never let her down before.” She wipes tears from her eyes and faces me. “You know what we used to always say to each other? ‘It’s you and me against the world.’ What a joke.”

I’m not very good at emotional scenes, so I don’t even try to offer false comfort that I don’t even feel. I was close to Sara too. Not only was she my cousin, but she was also my very first crush. And the first girl I’ve ever kissed. I thought that we were close and that she could confide in me. I guess I was wrong. I mean, I knew she was a depressed person, but I thought that it was all an act, like the kind that my sister puts on. I never really thought she would put a shotgun to her chest.

I look on as my sister cries. I want to say something. But, what can I say? My sister admired Sara. She was Ana’s idol. I wonder how much my sister’s preoccupation with death is truly just an act. That scares the hell out of me.

The limousine comes to a halt and I help Ana out of it. We approach the gravesite and stand besides our grieving family. We watch as the priest performs the funerary rites and slowly I realize the irony of it all. Sara was never religious. As a matter of fact, she was an atheist. And this religion holds the tenet that all suicides go to hell. So why are we sitting here performing a ritual that in their beliefs is useless over the body of a non-believer. I smile a grim, unseen smile.

As they lower the casket into the ground, I suddenly get a strange urge. I slowly back away and run back to the limousine. I reach into my backpack and search for the new R.E.M. tape. I find it, and slip it into my suit jacket.

When I return to the grave plot, I see that everyone is approaching it and tossing in flowers. I stand behind my sister and touch her arm. She turns around and her tear-streaked face gains a quizzical quality when she sees my smiling face.

“Sara hated flowers. Let’s give her something she’d really enjoy. I have a feeling that wherever Sara is going, she’ll somehow manage to have access to a tape deck. Sara is like that.”

“Was,” my sister shoots back at me. “You’re sick. Let’s do it!”

We approach the gaping hole in which rests Sara’s casket surrounded by a mantle of flowers. My sister reaches out to hold my hand. I wink at her and I toss the tape into the opening.

“I hope she likes it,” my sister whispers.

“I hope so too. I’d hate for her to come back and return it.”

We walk away from the gravesite arm in arm. I lead my sister to the limo and I watch as she gets in. I am overcome by a profound sense of sadness and concern for her. I once more wonder how much of her depression is an act and how much is a warning. What saddens me more is the knowledge that there is no way for me to stop her from hurting herself. I just have to be not only a brother to her, but also a friend. I have to be there if she needs me, but that is such a responsibility. I have to be there for her; But who will be there for me?

From within the limo, Ana calls to me. She wants to know if I’m OK.

I smile to myself as I enter the limousine.