12 Months Of Murmur: July
R.E.M. released Murmur, their fizzy, aching full-length debut, in 1983. It became Rolling Stone’s top album of the year and helped propel the band in a steady climb to become one of the biggest in the world. Murmur has 12 songs — at least two are serious contenders for best in their catalog — and as you’ll recall, years have 12 months. This project, 12 Months of Murmur, is my attempt to match the songs on the album (via mood or sound or narrative, etc.) with how I lived the months of 2017. Each entry is posted on the last day of the given month. Next up: July.
“Shaking Through”
“Shaking Through” is tied with “Pilgrimage,” another atmospheric chamber in the Murmur mansion, for longest song on the album at four minutes and 30 seconds. The other 10 songs are quite abstemious, sticking to proven song formulas (verse-chorus-bridge, etc.) or meandering into wild territory but still keeping it brief—yes, we’ll get to “9–9” soon enough. It also boasts a rarity in the R.E.M. catalog: a key change, occurring at the 3:30 mark.
Those are two notable facts about the song. Another is the chorus, which looks unimpressive on paper—“Shaking through / Opportune”— but swells with bursts of anticipatory background vocals from Mike Mills as Michael Stipe makes the word “shaking” quiver and twist like the snake that would adorn the cover of their next album, Reckoning. Standard fare for early R.E.M. Elsewhere, there’s talk of “Yellow like a geisha gown / Denial all the way,” proving that the inscrutability of early Stipe is irrelevant to the overall feeling of the songs.
These are all elements I’ve discussed before in this series, as is the fact that “Shaking Through” ends so jubilantly, the way a blast of warm artificial heat feels when you finally find shelter from a snowstorm outside. What’s new here is the final 25 seconds of loose noise before the band snaps to attention for the militant “We Walk” just after. As Bill Berry treads lightly on a stereo-mic’ed set, Peter Buck goes fishing for the right guitar chime around Mills’ lethargic bass notes. The whole ordeal is over before you even have time to register it.
But try. Keep your focus and hone in on individual instruments and their intent. Then hear the whole collage. It’s not particularly abstract, but it’s not the foundation of a proper pop song either—hence its ultimate destination as a tuneful segue.
Earlier this week, my boss told me some of the highlights of a leadership conference she’d just attended. “Transformative listening,” she said, “is the hardest thing to do. But it’s crucial.” Remaining completely silent as someone speaks to you (with minimal support from facial gestures) can almost feel like you’re being imprisoned inside your body. It’s not a great sensation, but think about what you get in return: unbounded access to what the other person is telling you. You become a sponge.
Imagine trying to let every sensation simply pass through you and then only later taking stock of which ones linger. “Shaking Through” took me about 15 listens before I saw what made it distinguishable from, say, “Sitting Still,” a song I still prefer by a factor of 10. But when I bothered to quiet my mind, I finally heard the rhythmic piano that’s all over this song. It’s actually the instrument that rings out the longest at its end. (Piano is all over Murmur, teasing its central role on some the band’s most crucial songs later on.)
Though it’s not a revelation to hear piano chords, it still matters because every piece matters. It’s not there on the live version, which is a far more youthful and energetic release—even when it’s covered by veterans The Feelies in 2013. But its absence just presents a chance to fill the space with… something. You might characterize a moment like that as opportune.
