I realised last week that the last concert I went to was in like 1995. REM headlining, support from Grant Lee Buffalo and… I want to say Crowded House, but that would be not right? *google google* Holy crap, it was Crowded House. OK, so that’s kind of cool.

So now it seems I’m on an REM kick again. These things are somewhat cyclic, and to be honest I’m not big on music. I know people who can’t abide sitting in silence and have to have music going most of the time, but I’m not one of them. I like me my quiets. But! REM.

When I was in Hungary, I was pretty much musicless, minus a tiny selection of largely NZ music tapes (yes! tapes!) I took with me. I knew there were two tapes I had to find, and eventually found them in the Budapest markets after a fair bit of searching. They were Nirvana – Nevermind and REM – Automatic for the People. Tracks from these albums were also getting some decent airplay on MTV at the time too, so they very definitely are the soundtrack of my year abroad. In fact, one of my fondest memories is of my friend Lisa uncannily showing up whenever Everybody Hurts was on TV (quite often). Factor in Kurt Cobain’s suicide in that year, and it’s really a big nostalgic cesspool.

I’m not a huge REM fan, and I do think some of their stuff is a bit samey, but I somehow ended up collecting quite a few of their albums. Quite a few for a confessed not-music person anyway. While I lost my Monster tape (yes! tape!) and my brother absconded with my Green/Out of Time box set, I have managed to rediscover those songs and have just finished listening to the back catalog. Memories…

Wee pointless factoid: I can sing along with It’s the End of the World As We Know It, and don’t have to make mumbly noises til I get to the chorus – kinda like that scene in Tommy Boy (which despite reviews is a kickass movie and must be seen).

Anyway, enough waffles. I will conclude by saying Automatic for the People is a very evocative album, and Find the River and Nightswimming are still my all time favourite REM songs and make me get all teary (see below). And I can’t stand Shiny Happy People. Song or… you know, people.

Thank you.

Sure it’s nerdulicious, but Mr T is just the perfect spokesman for anything popculturey. There’s also a William Shatner one, but he’s not being Denny Crane, so it’s not that great.

Force a page refresh (F5) to see our festive header. Fun fun.

If you feel it somehow excludes you because you don’t celebrate Christmas… it does. Because you don’t. But happy whatever to you too.

There’s this certain meow cats have, you may have heard it. It’s persistent, a little shrill – a staccato chirruping crying kind of meow. You don’t want to hear it at 2am on a stormy morning.

It is the call of the mighty hunter, proudly bringing the prey back to his family.

It would be different if the fat git had managed to bring down a gazelle or a bewilderedbeast or something. But it’s somewhat depressing when the bounty is a small water-logged bird, still not old enough to have all its feathers, obviously blown from its nest. Easy pickings for the great orange one, who made me get out of bed to let him in, dumped the bird on the rug, growled at Fizzgig then watched quietly as I picked the poor thing up and put it outside.

Of course it didn’t survive the night, but at least it didn’t meet its end in Bee’s cavernous maw. It would have died even if he hadn’t brought it in, but at least I wouldn’t have known about it and been sad.

So pointless.

OK, it was good.

Enjoyment only slightly tempered by the knowledge of what went into it.