Being an R.E.M. fan is like being orphaned in the nicest way possible. The band’s members are alive and well and still friendly with each other, but since its breakup, in 2011—in what must rank as the most amicable dissolution in the history of rock—a full-scale reunion has never been on the table.
Nature, however, abhors a vacuum, and the band’s devotees have had some unexpected options lately. Take twice-Oscar-nominated actor Michael Shannon, who is now spending almost as much time singing in an R.E.M. tribute band with indie-rock stalwart Jason Narducy as he is starring in films. Their tour is hitting the U.K. this summer.
And if you’re in London for that one, why not take the Eurostar to Brussels, as I did last December. From the European Union’s grimy capital, it’s only a short trek to Lichtervelde, a West Flanders town, which is the home of Bar Electrolite, the world’s only R.E.M.-themed drinking establishment.
It takes some correspondence with the bar’s owner, Mike Loose—his real name—to figure out Electrolite’s exact location. Eventually his girlfriend, Eva, picks me up at the train station. The car rolls through an exemplary European townscape: neat houses, sterile streets, solar panels on roofs. It’s hard to imagine a vibe further removed from the kudzu-choked Georgia vistas from which the R.E.M. legend sprang, but that in itself is a testament to the band’s global reach.
In fact, the nearest city, Torhout, was once home to a huge annual rock festival that was among the band’s favorite stops in Europe. They played it seven times, starting in 1985, when they shared the stage with U2 and the Ramones. “It was the only time they didn’t headline,” Bertis Downs IV, the band’s longtime adviser and manager, is quick to note on the phone from Athens, Georgia.
We park in the backyard, adorned with R.E.M. stencils by local graphic artists. A whitewashed wall holds the full lyrics to the song “Walk Unafraid,” from 1998’s Up, rendered in the same intricate fonts as in the album’s liner notes. The path to the bar leads through Loose’s airy, modern house; it takes me a few seconds to realize the bar is his house, or, rather, the front of it.
A born-and-bred Lichterveldian, Loose was too young for the band’s 1985 Torhout show, but he saw the rest, starting with the Green tour, in 1989. A tall, serious, amiable man with graying hair, Loose looks like the composite picture of an R.E.M. fan circa now. He is a teacher in the town’s high school, as is Eva. When he bought the house, 10 years ago, the street-facing room was a shuttered jewelry store. The counter became a bar; the walls were lined with vinyl albums, posters, memorabilia, and original R.E.M.-themed art.
“The first idea I had,” Loose says, “was to change this store into a private bar for myself. And I stenciled the name on the window as a joke. And then people from the town started knocking on the door and asking, ‘When will it open?’”
Years later, the answer to that question is still somewhat complicated. Loose opens Electrolite for special occasions: concerts in the backyard, “significant dates for the band,” and visits by other fans. “People come from everywhere,” he says. “We have people from London and Paris who fly in for the events. Mostly fans, of course. But it could be someone just from around the corner.”
Loose mixes me a cocktail called the Ocean Flower Aquarium, a reference to a lyric from the song “Lotus.” It’s excellent. An all-R.E.M. playlist filters in from the sound system back in the house. I walk around, admiring the art and the nerdy puns. It’s a slightly deranged way to spend an afternoon, but a great one. There is, to be honest, not a whole lot of excitement in being an R.E.M. fan, in part because there is no conflict or warring factions. The only real clash—between the early adopters, who used to think the boys “sold out” by moving to Warner Bros., and the imperial-era fans attracted by hits such as “Losing My Religion”—feels a bit silly now that the latter are in their 40s and the former are nearing Medicaid eligibility.
“I just want to honor the band,” says Loose. “And that’s why the people from the management also like the idea.” Every time he comes up with a new cocktail menu, he sends it to the band’s Athens HQ , “but they always let me do whatever I want.” Whatever money he makes on the drinks and backyard concert tickets goes to the charities R.E.M. would, or do, approve of.
No one R.E.M.-adjacent has yet set foot in Electrolite, though that may change someday. “I’d love to visit,” says Downs. “I come to Europe once in a while, but if it’s with my family, they wouldn’t be interested.” For now, the band’s social-media team occasionally reposts the bar’s content on its Instagram account.
This July 6, the grassy area behind the bar will host Loose’s most ambitious event yet. Rock Electrolite is an elaborate tribute to the 40th anniversary of 1985’s Rock Torhout Festival, the first time the band played there and the only one Loose missed. “People from 11 countries have already bought the tickets,” he says. In an ingenious move, it will feature three tributes, to R.E.M., U2, and the Ramones, replicating their respective 1985 sets. The 40 Watt Band, from Antwerp, will handle the R.E.M. part—except this time, they get to headline.
Michael Idov is a Berlin-based writer and filmmaker