Modern Rock No. 1s: R.E.M. and "Bang and Blame"
R.E.M. tops the alternative chart for the last time with "Bang and Blame," a sonic blast of guitars and angst, showcasing the emotional dynamics of relationships
R.E.M. - “Bang and Blame”
Weeks atop the Billboard Modern Rock chart: 3 weeks (December 17 to December 31, 1994)
Previous Modern Rock #1 hit: Nirvana and “About a Girl”
Next Modern Rock #1 hit: Green Day and “When I Come Around”
Billboard Hot 100 chart toppers during this time:
Ini Kamoze - “Here Comes the Hotstepper” (12/17/94 and 12/24/94, 2 total weeks)
Boyz II Men - “On Bended Knee” (12/3/94, 12/10/94 and 12/31/94, 3 total weeks)
I’ve devoted a significant chunk of Substack bandwidth to R.E.M., and I know I’m not the only one. R.E.M. was a generational talent, a band that existed for more than 30 years and defined two different genres at their peak: “college rock,” and at the advent of their major-label switch, “alternative rock.”
That switch to what would be defined as alternative rock, and the subsequent creation of the Modern Rock Tracks chart by Billboard magazine in 1988, turned R.E.M. from an underground darling in indie-music circles to a bona fide juggernaut, dominating both alternative and pop radio with hits that straddled the line between popular confections and moody alternative stylings.
From the inception of the MRT chart, R.E.M. was a defining force, topping the charts five times over four albums. From Green’s tremendous earworms “Orange Crush” and “Stand”; to the pop-leaning “Losing My Religion” that defined their generational hit album Out of Time; to the reflective self-aware “Drive” that exuded a more mellow sound in Automatic for the People; and to the resurgence of the band’s guitar-driven origins with Monster and “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?”, R.E.M. was the embodiment of all the things that made alternative rock a force in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s.
I’ve made no secret of my love of R.E.M. I credit them for my Musical Awakening™️, and back in 2023 I highlighted their Up album on its 25th anniversary, knowing that I will never get the opportunity to wax nostalgic about any of that album’s singles in this space. So while I’ve definitely spilled my fair share of digital ink on this platform jubilantly recounting the memories I have of R.E.M. and their highest-charting singles, it feels weird to think this will be the last time I get to cover a #1 R.E.M. hit.
“Bang and Blame,” an unexpected hit off Monster, climbed all the way to the top of the charts as 1994 faded into 1995, and would become the band’s final #1 hit on the Modern Rock charts.
There are two things that stand out in this track, even before I dive into the lyrics. First, I really love the progression from soft rock to hard rock and back to soft. I think critics tend to pooh-pooh those types of transitions, and they’ve probably been done to better effect by other bands, but I really like it here. When connected with the presumed intent behind the lyrics, I truly appreciate it; it’s an emotional tug of war between the soft and sincere moments of Michael Stipe’s narrator trying to come to grips with the gravity of his relationship situation, and the loud and bombastic explosion of angst and frustration when subtle diplomacy breaks down. The backing vocals by Rain Phoenix and Stipe’s younger sister Lynda add a subtle but sublime layer of depth to the refrain.
The transition between soft rock and thrash rock is most evident in the bridge, which happens about midway through the song. Everything about it is done expertly and with obvious effect: Peter Buck takes his otherwise hypnotic guitar work all the way to full-on shredding, and Bill Berry expertly delivers a wonderful syncopated rhythm with his drum cymbals. Stipe doesn’t need to add anything to this vocally; in this moment, the expression reaches a crescendo perfectly with the music, and everything that follows works even better because of it.
The second part of the track that gets me is the portion that bubbles up after the initial song ends. It’s not often I hear that portion on radio edits of “Bang and Blame,” but if you’re listening to the album track, there is about a five- to 10-second pause at the end before the guitars and drums fade back in. It’s about 30 seconds long, and I remember the first time I heard it was driving home in the dark one night, and it legitimately gave me chills. Something about it is so haunting, and it fits the theme of the song so well. In the link below, the outro comes in at around the 4:53 mark of the song:
Musically, the song pops from start to finish, and feels so much more energetic than comparably dour tracks like “Drive.” With this track, the band is reflecting on things that make them sad about life or existence, but instead of accepting those things, they start fighting back. They’re sick of being dour and mopey, languishing in imagery of the past. They might not be in the best situation, but they’re going to fight to the end.
It’s hard to tell what Stipe is fighting about in this track, but theories abound. The one I’m least qualified to address is Stipe’s ambiguity at the time in terms of his sexuality, and many of the lyrics make pointed references to the then-taboo idea of homosexual relations and the presumed consequences of others finding out about their “indiscreet discretions.”
If you could see yourself now, baby
The tables have turned
The whole world hinges on your swings
Your secret life of indiscreet discretions
I'd turn the screw and leave the screen
Don't point your finger
You know that's not my thing
What I appreciate about Stipe’s poetry is that you don’t have to take it at face value. Even if this message is a reference to his own inner workings and interpersonal struggles, the ideas are applicable to all kinds of relationships where someone might be at risk if the secret gets out, whatever that secret might be (infidelity, disinterest, sexual preference, etc.).
At its most literal, “Bang and Blame” encapsulates the ins and outs of a human-to-human connection where you find pleasure in your encounters but then find yourself turning around and arguing with the other, transferring the energy of the “bang” into the overly dramatic “blame” that follows.
(Or I could be completely wrong. Poetry ain’t my thing, gang.)
What does work for me is the haunting rhythm of the slower parts of the song. This track is, on a basic human level, fascinatingly cold, and I’m man enough to admit that listening to it on a lonely car ride after dusk or first thing in the morning is sincerely chilling, almost like listening to a horror movie. That 30-second outro feels like the musical equivalent of a movie jump-scare setup, luring you into a hypnotic state of quiet calm before the main villain jumps out and gets you.
Many songs I’ve grown to love in my lifetime affect me on emotional levels; I think we all have that to some degree. Everyone has a song that reminds them of a person, a place, a moment in time — that’s one of the best fringe benefits of music, and the main driver of nostalgic newsletters like this. But R.E.M. takes it even further with “Bang and Blame,” making you feel cold yet liberated at the same time. It reminds me simultaneously of every breakup and every moment of personal growth, every raw emotion I’ve ever felt in a single package. That’s pretty amazing. Listening to this as a 15-year-old who literally felt every emotion all at once, I can assure you the song connected with me deeply at the time, and that connection still resonates.
R.E.M., of course, would continue as a band for another 16 years after “Bang and Blame” topped the MRT chart. We’ll see them hop into the “Chart Check” section of this column from time to time, first with a handful of top 10 hits, then top 30, then a couple straddling the bottom of the survey. This isn’t to say R.E.M. is somehow less in their future iterations, but the six years they dominated the MRT charts are among the finest years any band put forward, and more than 30 years later, they’re still the subject of much discussion and fascination.
I’ll miss talking about them in depth at the top of the charts, but they’ll certainly continue to hold my interest for many years to come.
Rating: 10/10
Chart Check
Other notable MRT chart songs from this time period
Some all-time bangers on this list — and also a song from The Murmurs, which is fine. Bad Religion hits their alternative chart peak during this time, but Urge Overkill and Weezer steal the show this week with their chart peaks.
“Buddy Holly” by Weezer (#2):
Future Modern Rock chart #1 artist Weezer (but for none of the truly terrific 1990s tracks you’re thinking of) get as close to the top as possible without touching the summit with “Buddy Holly,” the most infectious radio track from their self-titled “Blue” album and arguably one of the strongest hits of the 1990s. My favorite trivia nugget for folks of a certain age: This music video was released on a Windows 95 CD-ROM installation disc, where it gained a lot of traction on top of its presence on radio and on perpetual loop on MTV. The video, a terrific mashup of the band with the characters from the ‘70s TV series “Happy Days,” is still one of my all-time favorite videos. “Buddy Holly” should have been a #1 hit, but R.E.M.’s star power was too much to overcome in that moment.
“Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon” by Urge Overkill (#11):
Lots of ‘90s alt-rock bands got their break due to their placement on a movie soundtrack, but very few got as big a boost as Urge Overkill did when they peaked at #11 behind R.E.M. with “Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon.” The song — a cover of the Neil Diamond classic that peaked at #10 on the Hot 100 in May 1967 — was the centerpiece of a pivotal scene in the all-time classic “Pulp Fiction.” Folks of a certain age will forever interlink the song to that moment when Uma Thurman’s Mia Wallace danced through her living room and into her bathroom, where she overdosed by inadvertently snorting heroin. Hijinx ensue.
While we never saw Urge Overkill hit these heights again, their legacy to both ‘90s alt rock and ‘90s cinema will last a long time because of this song and that movie.
“21st Century (Digital Boy)” by Bad Religion (#11):
Formed in 1980, Bad Religion took a decade and a half to (almost) crack the top 10 of the alternative rock charts with “21st Century (Digital Boy),” a fun punk-rock standard that got lots of radio airplay in the mid and late 1990s. The band would chart six other times over the course of the mid ‘90s into the 2000s, but this would be their highwater mark on the charts. I like it fine.
“You Suck” by The Murmurs (#23):
The Murmurs are a band I didn’t know existed until I checked the charts for this period of time, and their time in the spotlight was very short lived. “You Suck,” a fun pop-folk ditty about the band’s female leads getting ripped off financially by someone in the early ‘90s, is a pleasant song — or as pleasant as a song about someone sucking can be. That said, its chart presence was short-lived. The song peaked at #23, and then The Murmurs were never heard from again. They did a cover of Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit,” though, which is kinda neat.
Another great article Matt! Just jumped into the comments to say how much I loved that Murmurs album. For quite a while it wasn’t available on streaming platforms. I’ve just checked and it’s up on Spotify (in the UK anyway) so I’m excited to revisit it.
Now you’ve got me wondering what the Weezer #1 MRT was, perhaps “Islands in the Sun”, will have to research that one. If it is, not that it’s a bad song, but it doesn’t hold a candle to some of their 90s songs
Far too few people remember this song. They remastered and remixed the album and there’s a “new” version of BnB that I think is much stronger and more interesting. The guitar tones on this whole record are exceptional