According to Michael Stipe, "Wendell Gee was a death dream where I was buried in a hollowed out log with this metal mesh kind of lizard skin over the top and I could hear and talk, but all of the alive people could not hear me. Like a ghost. I stole the name from the highway between Athens, Georgia and Jefferson, Georgia, where I would visit with R.A. Miller in the early 80’s. It was one of the few really autobiographic but from dreamworld lyrics that I wrote; shortly after that I barely ever injected real life situations into the songs or lyrics, instead focusing on what I felt was my strong suit as a writer." Specifically, the name that Stipe stole belonged to the former proprietor of Wendell Gee Used Cars, on U.S. Route 129, near Gainesville, Georgia.
...all of which is irrelevant to me reminding myself how much I love IRS-era R.E.M., and that the plaintive chorus and banjo solo in this make it a fine Blue Friday track.
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