CENTERSTAGE

If I was truly wise to the wily ways of mathematics, I could maybe whip up some tidy theory of rock ’n’ roll relativity. But as my high school algebra teacher—the rotten schmuck—will tell you, I have no such leg to stand upon. Still, in light of this recent R.E.M. show, I’m wont to ponder more concrete notions of a pebble, say, or maybe a chewed-up wad of Bazooka bubble gum, dropped into the calm of a garden pool.