Why I Love R.E.M.: Reason #73

Their brave steps to come out of the closet:




Thank you, cousin Jamey!

While we're in startling announcement mode: There may not be a mix tape ready when you get up in the a.m. Favorite Boy outdid himself with the birthday festivities, and I'm still a bit too swoony to focus on putting the post together. I may get it up by tomorrow evening ... if I don't get too swirled with Swirly Girl, that is.

Don't forget: Accelerate comes out Tuesday, so make plans to line up at your neighborhood record shop early.

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Happy 50th, Peter!

Gawd, can it really be true? My paragon of cool — R.E.M.’s Peter Buck — is fifty today? Yes, it’s true. I guess fifty really is the new thirty. Or so I’ll keep telling myself as that milestone looms closer.

Peter is cool, cute, and cool. (Yes, I meant to use “cool” twice; he’s that groovy.) Did I mention that, after the Robyn Hitchcock show in Baltimore, Peter helped pack up the equipment and load the van? This famous guitarist, working as his own roadie. That’s so cool. And he didn’t even mock me over the passport signature ... at least not to my face.

Y’all be sure to yell “Happy birthday, Peter!” at some point today. And drink a glass of red wine in his honor. He’d like that.

And wave a blog goodbye to him for a while. Someone recently landed on my blog via a Peter Buck Technorati search … and, um … 24 of the first 25 hits were posts on this blog. I don’t want to appear obsessed or anything …

Photo credit: A friend sent this cute picture to me; I think he said he found it on Murmurs.com, where it looks like one of the Übers posted a magazine shot.

Reality Bites

I took a break from reality for the last ten days … and it was wonderful. I danced and sang along to great live music. I ate and drank and shopped like a trust-fund baby. And tomorrow I rejoin the world of grown-ups. I hope you hear the sad, resigned sigh in that sentence.

Quick rundown of my recent adventures:

Death Cab for Cutie with Ted Leo & The Pharmacists (11.17.06)

The night before I bolted to Baltimore, Dan and I hit the fabulous Fox Theater to see Death Cab for Cutie, with opening act Ted Leo & The Pharmacists (hence the subhead above).

And, yes, Grant Miller, you may call me An Anonymous Hipster.

The show itself was great. Ted and the boys kicked ass on stage. Ted’s just damn cool, and his set was my fave of the night. Death Cab for Cutie were quite good, too. But. It was The Place to Be for the pretty twenties; every time I went to the lobby for a beer or a trip to the powder room (the best in Atlanta, by the way), I felt as it I were stepping onto the set of “The OC”; scads of beautifully clad twentysomethings mingled and ogled, seeing and being seen, forgetting they were there for a concert. Those who went to their seats cheered loudly only during the recognizables riffs. The kids didn’t ruin the show; their being there to be there and not to enjoy the music just took away some of the atmosphere that should have been there (did you count my use of “there” there?).

I Was Charmed by the Charm City

I’m too tired tonight (tryptophan + red wine = tired chick), so the travelogue will come later this week, after I’m back in the swing of reality. But I’ll say this much: Baltimore has the friendliest guys I’ve been around in ages. Everywhere we went, we ran into wonderful people to chat up, to give us great restaurant recommendations, to shoot the breeze as we downed beers. And I got to say “Homicide” (from the opening credits of the greatest show ever) at least fifteen times a day; I love running a joke into the ground … especially when French laughs every time.

Robyn Hitchcock and The Venus 3 (11.20.06)

One of the reasons for our trip to Baltimore was to see Robyn Hitchcock with The Venus 3 — the V3 being the beloved Peter Buck of R.E.M., the adorable Scott McCaughey (Minus 5; Paul Westerberg’s faves Young Fresh Fellows; the second R.E.M. guitarist), and Bill Reiflin (formerly of Ministry, now drummer for R.E.M. and Minus 5). I haven’t seen Robyn Hitchcock since maybe 1992 and Georgia wasn’t on the schedule, so French and I decided to catch the Balm’er show.

And what a show it was. Robyn sounds wonderful, and you can tell he has fun playing with his pals. They played my fave, “Madonna of the Wasps” … but the encore may be my favorite in five years. They started with “Not Dark Yet,” one of my very favorite Dylan tunes. Robyn’s voice is lovelier than Dylan’s, which brought a different feel to the song. The next song still sends shivers down my spine: a cover of The Beatles’ “She Said She Said.” W.O.W. The song is perfect for Robyn’s voice and Peter’s guitar style. I was jumping and squealing and singing and dancing with joy during those three minutes, kids. Robyn told me after the show (yes, read those words again, kids: Robyn told me after the show) that they decided just that afternoon to play “She Said She Said” and learned it that day. Brilliant, magical, sublime. They closed the show, of course, with the Soft Boys’ “I Wanna Destroy You.”

Robyn Hitchcock has been inducted into the Cup Hall of Hair Fame, along with the illustrious, lustrous manes of Emmylou Harris and Oliver Platt. His hair is perfect.

French and I hung around after the show, waiting on our personal taxi (French makes friends with all the right people) and just enjoying that post-show high. I made a tactical error during the show. My general rule is I don’t drink during concerts so that I can fully enjoy the music and keep the giggly fangirl at bay. Well … we had a bit to drink at dinner (thanks, in part, to our favorite bartender evah, but that’s a story for another day) … and I sucked down three Bass Ales during the show. Multiple six cocktails with my concert high … and Giggly Fangirl joined the night.

Peter Buck was working the merch table, selling CDs and signing autographs for fans. Well, Fangirl jumped out of her hiding place … grabbed her passport … and asked Mr. Buck to sign in. “But won’t that invalidate your passport?” I told him I didn’t care, that it was the only thing I had for him to sign. I felt like a dork as soon as I did it … but then I get to show y’all:

After that bit o’ embarrassment, we got to talk to Scott McCaughey for a bit. Scott may be the coolest, happiest musician I’ve ever met. You can tell he gets such joy from playing and touring. He always takes the time to chat with his fans. I think he’s replaced Peter Buck as the musician I most want to be friends with.

Before we left Ottobar, Robyn came out and chatted with us for a couple of minutes. Yes, Giggly Fangirl had quite the night.

A Thankful Thanksgiving

Our family’s Thanksgiving holiday was casual and happy, spent at the Lake Burton house.

The entire Coffey clan was there, and it was a wonderful day. Thanksgiving is one of the best holidays, I think, because it’s all about being with family and friends, just enjoying each other’s company and retelling our favorite family tales.

A Blog Brag

I met Gizmorox from My Head Is a Box Filled with Nothing this weekend! She was visiting friends for the holiday, so we met for brunch. She’s a very cool woman … and she’s quite the cutie, guys.

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Sam Phillips: Martinis and Bikinis

Every once in a very rare while you hear a song that grabs you, one that so knocks you for a loop that years later you remember exactly where you were the first time you heard it. Sam Phillips’ “I Need Love” is one of those rare songs for me (March 1994, in a client’s conference room, working on graphics for an air-conditioning repair training manual, tuned to WRAS/Album 88; sounds like I’m Miss Scarlett and I did it with the candlestick, doesn’t it?).



I grabbed my purse, headed to the nearest record store, and spent that afternoon and the rest of that week (heck, that month) listening to Martinis and Bikinis over and over and over. Sam Phillips voice captivated me … and there’s some kid playing guitar who just might make it big one day. Fast-forward twelve years, and this album still mesmerizes me. Lovely, catchy, haunting, sparkling.

Dan and I recently talked about the I-remember-the-first-time- I-heard-it phenomenon. We both know where we were the first time we heard The Cardigans’ “Gordon’s Gardenparty” — a warm Saturday afternoon in early March, listening to Album 88 as we pulled into the Kroger parking lot. We stayed in the car and danced until the end of the song, then went and bought the CD after we’d filled the trunk with groceries.

This week’s album is one you may not have heard. And that’s a sad thing. Martinis and Bikinis is a sublime, unique, Beatlesque beauty, and it’s on my Top 100. The album was produced by her then-husband, the brilliant T-Bone Burnett, with great guitar work by Peter Buck. She wrote most of the songs, and co-wrote a few with Burnett. For those of you keeping score at home, it wasn’t Peter’s guitar that sold me on the album; that’s just glorious icing on the cake.

Yeah, “Beatlesque” is overused. Seems every time an intelligent pop song comes out, we’re raving about its Beatlesqueness. But I think Martinis and Bikinis earns the label. Smart lyrics layered with catchy rhythm (and is it okay if I swoon again about Peter Buck’s guitar?). And, damn, that voice. God, I love Sam Phillips’ voice. I want to sound like that.

Sam Phillips started out as a Christian singer. She didn’t like the way she was marketed, so she changed her name and began recording secular music. You may be familiar with Sam’s voice via “Gilmore Girls”; she sings the “lalalala” breaks, and she was featured in last season’s finale with all the other cool kids. She was also one of the sirens in O Brother, Where Art Thou?.

Martinis and Bikinis is a perfect album. There, I said it. And I mean it. There isn’t one throwaway track on the disc. When I put it on, I want to stop everything so that I can sing and dance and twirl and rock a bit, just get lost in the album. Do yourself a favor. Listen to today’s selections, fall in love as I did, then click the above link and get your own copy. It was hard — damn hard — to pick a couple of tracks, but I think these will give you the flavor of Martinis and Bikinis.

“Love and Kisses” stars the album, fading into “Signposts.” They’ve always gone together to me, so I’ve put them together here. I love the sharp contrast between the two songs.


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I have to admit, it’s Peter’s playing that grabs me in “Same Changes,” but I also love the vocals and lyrics.


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I’m very particular about John Lennon covers, and there are few women who can pull it off. Sam nails “Gimme Some Truth” — and her version is further proof of her Beatlesqueness.


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So, then Scott McCaughey says …

Yep, Scott McCaughey and I were hanging out together last night. I realize that 95% of my readers don’t know who the heck Scott McCaughey is and can’t understand why this was a momentous occasion in my 47th year — but Dan was excited.

Scott McCaughey is the Ron Wood of R.E.M.; he's been playing with my guys on albums and tours since the mid-1990s. He was a founding member of The Young Fresh Fellows, a wonderful, quirky Seattle band that never quite made it. In the R.E.M. off-season, he's once again helming The Minus 5, a band he started with Peter Buck in the mid-1990s.


The (current) Minus 5: Peter Buck; Ministry’s Bill Reiflin, drums; guitarist John Ramberg, who’s played with Neko Case and was in Model Rockets; Scott McCaughey.

The Minus 5 have put out several great albums over the last 10 years. One of my favorites is Down with Wilco — which they recorded with Wilco! This year’s album The Minus 5 (also called The Gun Album) is great, too; my favorite song is “Cigs, Coffee, Booze,” which I play and sing a couple of times a day at work. Scott’s a pretty darn good songwriter, and I like his voice; you can hear his joy in being a musician.

The Minus 5 played last night at Smith’s Olde Bar — and Karen and I were there for the show. Scott and Peter were hanging out in the club, listening to the two opening acts. Tres thrilling for moi! And Karen enjoyed my teenybopper moments.

Scott was next to me at the bar, so I told him how I was looking forward to the show after reading so many great show reviews online. He got excited hearing abour the reviews … introduced himself and asked my name … and then he took off his sunglasses as we kept chatting. Scott McCaughey is rarely seen sans sunglasses — he performs in them, he wears them in nearly every photo — so I was inwardly giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. (And, in that schoolgirl moment, I asked him to sign a CD cover for me.) We also chatted about his wife, Christy McWilson, and her great music. He was cool, a lot of fun. Later in the evening, he walked by, squeezed both my arms and said, “Hi again, Beth!” For a groupie-if-my-mama-didn’t-raise-me-right like me, this was a beautiful moment in my life. I think we'll be exchanging Christmas cards this year.

Karen and I stood next to Peter Buck and his woman during The Silos’ set. He gave me that “hey, I know you; how’s it going” look a few times, and I brushed my pinky across his leather jacket as he walked by. Damn, he’s still cute as hell and thrills me to my toes; I grinned like the Joker all night long. His female kept a close eye on Karen and me, so I didn’t approach him (dammit all for my wussiness!). He enjoyed the fact that I kept sneaking peeks at him, and even winked once. I’m sure we would have enjoyed breakfast together this morning if his arm-clutcher wasn’t there (c'mon ... a girl can never give up hope).

The usual R.E.M. suspects were there: longtime Atlanta music journalist Jeff Clark (currently editor of Stomp and Stammer), wearing a Yo La Tengo T-shirt (Mike, was he ever with WRAS?), the blond clerk from Fantasyland Records, lots of recognizable faces from 25 years of R.E.M. shows.

Oh, and the show was great! I haven’t been that close to Peter while he’s performing in probably 15 years, so it was great to be 10 feet from my fantasy BFF. You could tell they were having a great time — and so was the audience. Mike Mills joined them onstage for a couple of songs, playing keyboards. There were whispers that Michael Stipe may show up, but I think he’s in Florida for a film festival showing one of his films. We left early; Smith’s Olde Bar allows smoking, and we fortysomethings can’t take dirtying up our lungs for more than a couple of hours. I’m considering hitting 78 and catching the Athens show tonight.

What a great way to end my birthday celebration week … thanks, Karen, Scott and Peter!

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Click here to read Scrivenings' review of last night's show ...