The MONSTER tour t-shirt, slept in by Tom for a decade. The period teal shorts have not been. I had to dig those out of the reject bin for the purpose of this photo.
In October of '95, I went to see R.E.M. on their Monster tour when they were in Ames, IA (just a little under an hour from my hometown). Critics and fans alike panned the album, if not the tour. So of course I loved it. Still to this day is one of my favorite albums. Yes, it might be totally unlike their other stuff. Yes, its overproduced. Yes, the songwriting and the lyrics are childish and silly. Yes, I love it.
Anyway, at the concert I bought a tour t-shirt for something like $18. I wore the shit out of that shirt. See, in my high school, wearing rock shirts was a big thing for lots of folks. But bands I listened to were never hip enough to have new t-shirts, at least not in 1995; the retro t-shirt craze that has taken hold now had not yet come to fruition. At that time in my life, Zeppelin, Van Halen, Guns N Roses, the Clash, Hendrix, Judas Priest, and Eddie Money were what I listened to. As you can tell, I was pissed off a lot.
When the shirt became too ratty to wear in public anymore, I retired it to sleeping duty. See, I wear old t-shirts and shorts (or in the colder months, flannel pants) to sleep in. And for years, the REM Monster shirt was my number one choice. Both in terms of comfort and fashion, it was THE choice.
In 1997 when I moved three hours from home to college here in Omaha, the shirt came with me. My first night in the dorms I slept in that shirt, and it comforted me. My second night in the dorms, when I consumed my first beers at college and got drunk the first time in Omaha, the REM shirt was there. When I awoke in the middle of the night in January of that first year to find my little bitch roommate with a massive hemmorhage of a bloody nose pouring like a sieve into our sink, I was wearing the REM shirt.
(Incidentally, that little guy deserves a separate column. John, my second year roommate, would enjoy remembering all the great Smelly U Man stories. Someday, Johnny, someday.)
When I went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, I slept in the REM shirt. When I went to Art Farm, both times, ditto. Austin, TX, howdy. St. Louis, you bet. Florida six times, absolutely.
Ten years old now, a veteran of over 200 washes, the REM shirt is still hanging in there, providing comfort to the sleeping Tom whenever its clean. Sure, the neck gets stretched out after just two or three nights nowadays forcing an early retirement to the hamper each time, and the screen printing is worn so much (particularly on the back) that you can barely make out what it says, but the cotton is soft as ever, and there are amazingly no holes whatsoever. It still brings great comfort.
Someday, when that thing is on its 400th wash and I'm married, my wife will decide the shirt has to go. But today is not that someday. Someday, my girlfriend might make the mistake of attempting to convince me to let it go. Today is not that someday either. I don't have a wife. I don't have a girlfriend. I do have my REM shirt. And so the Legend of the Monster continues.
Oh man, I'm getting misty here. And the album is almost over. So I gotta go yo.
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