By the time 1987 rolled around, I was still into Bon Jovi, although I had all but forgotten my curiosity about R.E.M. somewhere in the haze of transitioning from middle school to high school. Then I heard "The One I Love." The way in which singer Michael Stipe ushered in the chorus, "Fiiiiiiire ... " had a precious yearning about it. I bought Document, the band's last effort for I.R.S. Records, and pretty much listened to it nonstop for two years.

There was still no band photo on the cover, though. (Didn't these guys have cool haircuts?) But every song on the album was captivating and unlike anything I had ever heard ­before. It was an awakening. I'm pretty sure I didn't listen to another hair band again until well into my adult life, when hearing Skid Row's "Youth Gone Wild" became kind of fun in a nostalgic way. Of course, we all know what happened next. R.E.M. exploded, thanks to Document. They left indie label I.R.S. Records and signed with a major label for something like $80 million - the largest recording contract in history at the time.

I was off to college in Athens, Georgia, where the band had met, lived, and thrived. I shopped at the same record store (Wuxtry Records), drank at the same coffeehouse (Blue Sky), and even waited on both guitarist Peter Buck and bassist Mike Mills at a Mexican restaurant, Mexicali, on separate occasions. (I can neither confirm nor deny that credit card receipts were kept as autographed souvenirs.) Bertis Downs, the band's manager, shared office space with the music-promotion company with which I interned. I was in the thick of it.