I think I've been pretty open about my love for Journey in recent months on this blog. Most people who know me how much I've loved that band since childhood. Of course, that means the anthem of my life has been "Don't Stop Believin'."
I always dug that there was a line about "South Detroit" in that song. Hey, they're singing about my city! (Well, so to speak; I grew up in Ann Arbor.)
But now the song is a stadium anthem, played virtually everywhere — including Michigan Stadium, which I still can't quite abide — and the "born and raised in South Detroit" line always gets a shout-out from local sports fans.
In recent years, however, that particular lyric has been dissected by metro Detroiters. Where exactly is "South Detroit"? Because it's not a part of the city anyone is familiar with, nor could find on a map.
"South Detroit" has also taken on life as a Twitter meme, thanks largely to Detroit Tigers beat writers, local sports reporters and fans on Twitter. (I'm looking at you, @matthewbmowery and @stareagle.) Not only was it a fictional neighborhood, but through Twitter, "South Detroit" practically became an alternate universe where magical things happened.
During a Tigers game, a ball that an opposing hitter would hit into the gap would be a great catch by center fielder Austin Jackson in "South Detroit." Instead of striking out on an eye-high fastball, third baseman Brandon Inge would get a base hit in "South Detroit." And so on. Maybe beer prices at the concession stands were cheaper, too. Whatever beautiful thing you could imagine.
It was amusing. And will probably continue to be this spring and summer. But I never really jumped on with the uproar over the non-existence of a "South Detroit." It sounded fine to me. I still thought of it as a shout-out to a city I was familiar with in one of my all-time favorite songs.
But for those who needed answers, Peter Hyman did what writers (reporters?) should do: Go to the source and find out the truth. In a post for NY Mag's Vulture, Hyman contacted former Journey lead singer Steve Perry to ask him about "South Detroit." Did he realize no such location existed? Was it a faux-pas from an out-of-towner? Or did he take artistic license for the sake of a good song lyric?
Perry explained that he came up with the lyric while staring out of his hotel window during a 1980 five-night stand in Detroit. (Oh, if only such things happened anymore with rock tours.) The city was on his mind, so he put it in "Don't Stop Believin'." And yes, "South Detroit" just sounded right.
“I ran the phonetics of east, west, and north, but nothing sounded as good or emotionally true to me as South Detroit,” he says. “The syntax just sounded right. I fell in love with the line. It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve learned that there is no South Detroit. But it doesn’t matter.”
Of course, he's exactly right. It doesn't matter.
Well, except maybe it does. Because the question of "South Detroit" has helped give the song continued life among music fans, sports fans and metro Detroit residents alike. Its popularity and resonance never ends. It goes on and on and on and on...
• However, I love "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" It doesn't sound like a R.E.M. song, but felt like Peter Buck said, "Enough of these fuckin' mandolins — let's rock." Any time a band wants to break out the loud guitars, I'm usually sucked in.
I've always gotten the impression that "Monster" was one of R.E.M.'s least popular albums among longtime fans because it was so different, but not for me. It's just a good rock record. "Crush With Eyeliner," "Bang and Blame," and "Strange Currencies" are each among my favorite songs.
• During my freshman year of college, we spent way too much time trying to get "It's the End of the World As We Know It" on our answering machine. To this day, when I hear the words "feelin' pretty psyched," I think it's our cue to hit the record button.
• Is "Me in Honey" an underrated R.E.M. song? I feel like it is. One of my favorites. Love the guitar.
• I only saw R.E.M. once in concert. It was during the "Monster" tour. My sister and I couldn't get seats together, and sat on different sides of The Palace of Auburn Hills. I was in the absolute last row of my section and could lean back against the wall of the upper deck.
(Here's the setlist for the show, thanks to a website I didn't know existed until today. I will surely be wasting many afternoons to come, looking up old concerts I went to.)
I struck up a conversation with a couple who had seen the band six times, all around the country. Listening to their stories, I didn't envy them seeing R.E.M. so often as much as I wished I'd seen them perform in a far smaller venue. A different tour ("Document"? "Out of Time"?) might have been cool too, though I've already expressed my love for "Monster."
• It kind of breaks my heart to say this, but it's also stating the obvious: R.E.M. was never the same band once Bill Berry left. None of the five albums the band released since his exit was that memorable. ("Around the Sun" may have been the most promising.) I can't name one song from those records off the top of my head.
As much as I love R.E.M., I just couldn't get excited about their last two albums. (Being let down by bands and musicians I loved in recent years has contributed to my apathy toward new music these days.) In fact, I don't think I even purchased their latest, "Collapse Into Now." I probably will now. And I'll give those previous four records another chance.
• How many bands would've tried to milk this for a farewell tour? Maybe fewer than I think. But with so many groups reuniting for the money while cashing in on nostalgia, I think it's pretty notable that R.E.M. chose to go out with a quiet bow. (Although Buck and Mike Mills were both outspoken about not enjoying the grind of a long tour.)
Would I have liked to see a farewell tour? Yeah, probably. It would've been nice to say goodbye and hear some of those songs live one more time.
Should we make any guesses as to when we'll see a reunion tour? Or when those rumors will begin?