By valuing equally the Velvet Underground and the Monkees, the jangling Georgians of R.E.M. proved there could be common ground between the stylistic integrity of the indie world and the commercial appeal of the mainstream. Blockbuster songs such as 'Losing My Religion' and 'Everybody Hurts' made the band the world's biggest for a time in the early 1990s, and their continued insistence on creative adventure has been a model for many of their successors to the pop throne. Singer Michael Stipe talked to Spinner about R.E.M.'s newest label: Hall of Famers.

How did you find out about your Hall of Fame induction?

Myself and [bassist] Mike Mills and Bertis Downs, our manager, had flown to London. [Guitarist] Peter Buck was on tour with Robyn Hitchcock, and we flew over to have an R.E.M. meeting. It was at dinner the Sunday night before the actual announcement was made. We had an idea, but the call came in, and it was kind of exciting.

How did you celebrate?

Well, we went off and saw Robyn perform [laughs]. We raised a few pints after the show.

Patti Smith probably should have been inducted a few years ago, but in hindsight it will look like perfect planning, to have her go in with you guys.

We certainly are very good friends. The influence she's had on my band -- actually, it was a mutual love of her work that brought myself and Peter together. Then he gave me the first Suicide record, and I was like, "Wow, I've never heard anything like this." But it was really Patti's work that got the conversation rolling.

Any thoughts on your other Hall of Fame classmates?

I've never met Grandmaster Flash or Ronnie Spector. At this point, I've met pretty much everyone in the world [laughs], but I've never met those two. Grandmaster Flash obviously set off his own revolution within music. I'm really happy for Van Halen as well. They created one of the soundtracks to the 1980s, although they're a very different band from R.E.M.

It wouldn't be a Hall of Fame career if you didn't have some serious ups and downs over the years, would it?

You're pulling the wool over your own eyes and looking like an idiot to the public if you refuse to acknowledge that there are peaks and valleys to any career that goes on as long as ours has. I think you learn with age and wisdom to ride those, and hopefully learn from them.

Fans have heard stories about the difficulties of making 'Up' in San Francisco or 'Fables of the Reconstruction' in England. How much did the sites you chose impact the records?

Truth be told, the making of 'Up' was a much more difficult journey for us, both personally and as a band, than anything prior or since, simply because [drummer] Bill Berry had chosen to retire from music. And the three of us were putting on a very brave face, kind of soldiering on. What we really should have done was taken six months off to gather our thoughts. I actually like the record, but we created for ourselves an insurmountably difficult period of time trying to finish it. And that had its ripple effects for the next several years.

Which turning points other than Bill's retirement stand out in your mind as crucial to the band's development, for better or worse?

I think the decision at the end of the '80s to stop touring, because we had spent 10 years really . . .

Hammering it?

Yeah [laughs], hammering it. That put us in a unique position, as a fairly young band that was exhausted beyond comprehension. I think that decision to then release our next two albums, which, weirdly enough, became our best-selling records to date -- that decision [not to tour] was a pretty important one. The obvious stuff -- signing our first record label deal with IRS and finding this really dedicated group of people who believed in what we did, and then signing with Warner Bros. and having the luck to work with people like Lenny Waronker and Mo Ostin. We were always very stubborn in terms of what we would not do. The law of negation served us pretty well over the years. The Rule of No -- I think that's what we call it in R.E.M. world.

Your friend Eddie Vedder will be inducting you.

I couldn't be more honored. I'm a great fan, and we're great friends.

If you were speaking on behalf of your own band, how would you induct yourselves?

I've always been pretty bad at what our band might be within the context of pop music. I guess we took a page from Patti in considering this to be our life's work, and allowing other people to figure out what it means beyond that.

Clearly, though, any number of musicians have looked to you as an example.

Well, it feels like a continuum. The people who inspired us, we've met most of them and played shows with or collaborated with most of them. And the people who are in bands -- Radiohead, Coldplay -- who haven't been around quite as long as we have, have gone on to inspire us. That to me is like a great parlor of creative people, swapping ideas.

Instead of sitting after 25 years in your lofty perch.

I don't even know what that means [laughs]. I would be bored if R.E.M. tried to release an album's worth of 'Everybody Hurts' or 'Man on the Moon' or 'What's the Frequency, Kenneth?' We'd much sooner reach a little further than our talents probably allow and fall on our face attempting to do something that's a little bit progressive or forward. The timing [of the induction] could not be more perfect for us, going into the next album and really pushing ourselves, and at the same time being offered this incredible gesture which recognizes the work we've done in the past.

Will the band be on the same page in picking a few songs to play at the ceremony?

Probably. We'll just pick the ones that are easiest.

--James Sullivan


More exclusive Rock Hall interviews:

Patti Smith

The Ronettes' Ronnie Spector

Van Halen's Sammy Hagar

Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five