“Shiny Happy People” and a young man’s blossoming into cynicism
In Hear This, A.V. Club writers sing the praises of songs they know well. This week, we’re talking about the songs we hate by bands we love.
R.E.M., “Shiny Happy People” (1991)
I am far from the first to say that I hate R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People.” One year ago, The Lawrence Arms’ Brendan Kelly laid out on this very website, with brutal precision, the many reasons to hate it, from its “fucking jangly riff” to its “sad French circus breakdown.” Over the years, it’s found itself on various lists of “Worst Songs Ever” and “Wussiest Songs Of All Time.” Even Michael Stipe himself grew to dislike it, reportedly keeping it off the greatest hits album In Time despite it being the band’s last Top 10 single, refusing to play it live, and eventually admitting to reporters it had “limited appeal” to him. (He was much harsher in 1995, when he said to Space Ghost flatly: “I hate that song.”) To hate “Shiny Happy People,” you have to meet me in the crowd, and get in a long line of people holding hands. Pee-eeple! Pee-eeple!
But while my distaste for “Shiny Happy People” isn’t unique, realizing that I hated it was nevertheless meaningful for me, in several ways. I was 13 years old when Out Of Time was released, and my music appreciation was both wide open and severely limited. Along with INXS and Depeche Mode, R.E.M. was among the very few bands I knew of that I considered “mine”—not borrowed or shared with my parents, like The Beatles and U2—and among the few bands I knew of, period. For the most part, my tastes were broad and indiscriminate the way a 13-year-old’s are. I liked John Williams’ film scores and cassingles of songs I’d heard in movies, like Bon Jovi’s “Blaze Of Glory.” I enjoyed novelty tunes like “The Humpty Dance” and “Do The Bartman.” I owned three DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince albums. In other words, I wasn’t yet to a point where “coolness” was a factor when it came to my music.
All that changed with “Shiny Happy People,” my introduction to which was the first moment I remember thinking, “What is this shit?” I mean, I’d already become used to R.E.M.’s more upbeat, let’s-just-say-irritating pop confections: Both “Stand” and “Pop Song 89” from the previous album, Green, have moments where they tried the listener’s patience with inane, sing-songy lyrics that just made you want to yell at Stipe to pipe down back there or you’ll turn this goddamn car around. Even Out Of Time itself kicks off with “Radio Song,” whose KRS-One rap breakdown makes Blondie’s “Rapture” sound like Wu-Tang Clan. But “Shiny Happy People” was a special kind of inane—an inanity that pretended to be profound.