When a once-successful business dies upon whose shoulders does the blame rest? The C.E.O.? The Board of Directors? The sales people? The administrative staff? We live in a society of “somebody is to blame” so surely to blame. It can’t be that the business just followed some chaotic but predictable path to a natural death. But why can’t a business simply die? Organically rise and organically fall. After all, businesses are really nothing more than the collective skills of the humans who operate the business. So if we are all destined to die someday why to should we not expect businesses to die? And is it really such a bad thing when business do die? For out of the ashes of one business will rise another. That is arguably the essence of entrepreneurship. I began contemplating this odd-fellow thought after hearing that R.E.M. had broken up.

R.E.M. was a pioneering rock and roll band from Athens, Georgia, and last month after more than 30 years together the three original members of the band called it quits. For many of those of us who grew up in the 1980’s we marked time with the release of each R.E.M. album—sometimes I nostalgically look back and re-gather the markers of my youth with a re-listen of the album “ Life’s Rich Pageant” or “Document” or “Out of Time”. So it is with a certain melancholy that I bid adieu to a group that I honestly believe may have been the best rock and roll band of the 1980’s (Rolling Stone magazine proclaimed them as such in 1987). But it is not a sadness that accompanies a sudden loss of a dear friend; no, it is more of an itchy melancholy that presents itself subtly behind the eyes when you learn of the death of person who has been sick for a long time. You know it was coming, and to a great certain extent you had long ago prepared yourself for it, but the finality of it makes you somberly retrospective.

I had prepared myself for the eventual break-up of the band when their original drummer, Bill Berry, left the band in 1997. For those of you unfamiliar with the band, the quartet slimmed down to a trio after Bill Berry left the band. Bill left the band for reasons that were sort of health related, but more for the reason it seems that he just wanted to move on. In all honesty, the preparation for the wake did not really begin until after I listened to their first post Bill Berry record. As soon as I heard that record I knew that something in the body music of R.E.M. had gone missing. Yes, the band went on to make many more records in the intervening time period between Bill’s departure and the band break-up. But none of the music was ever quite as good. Missing was not only the driving percussion that was always so central to R.E.M.’s music. Missing also was something intangibly subtle.

One would not have thought that the departure of a simple drummer could have that type of impact. There are those who still hold fast to the notion that it was not Bill’s departure that led to any demise in the music; but, rather the band followed the path of slow creative decay as the sinews of passion are broken down by the pounding of the soft hammer of success. But one cannot listen to the R.E.M. of the 1980’s—especially the mid-80’s—and not recognize that Bill was more than just a drummer. Peter Buck, R.E.M.’s guitarist, used the pounding snare of Bill’s drums to paint a tapestry of sound with his arpeggios e.g. “Disturbance at the Heron House”. To hear an example of the R.E.M.’s rhythm section at its unique and melodically best listen to “Belong”. In the years after Bill’s departure we also come to learn that he helped write the music for such seminal R.E.M. tunes as “Perfect Circle”, “Can’t Get There From Here” and “Everybody Hurts“. Listen as you may you do not hear Bill or anything approaching Bill post-1997. Which means for me at least, post-1997 you do not hear R.E.M.

R.E.M. organically rose and R.E.M. organically fell. R.E.M. was a business in every sense of the word. It was in the business of making ground-breaking music and it made music that meant business in both the most creative and capitalistic sense. So when a key member of the “management team” left did it not make perfect sense that business would suffer? Why was it not clear to everyone that the business of making R.E.M. music would one day close its doors?

Probably the same reason that most people cannot pin-point the exact moment when an established business passes through middle-age and tunnels slowly headlong into the red dirt of unprofitability. Something changes in the company. Somebody important leaves. That person is then followed by another person. But the wagons are circled and others are brought into shore up the defenses. It really never is the same, however. The creative light that led the business to success is flickering and in jeopardy of being blown out. The only people who really see it are those who do so while walking out the door. Many times those individuals have myriad reasons why they do not give voice to the truth. The truth is immutable in the long run.

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with the understanding that no matter how clichéd it may be at some point all good things must come to an end—probably more so if the things of which we speak are truly good. Creative destruction is normally reserved to describe certain facets of capitalism. It could easily be used to describe art as well. Kodak slowly dies while Sony rises. R.E.M. called it quits the same year Coldplay passed the 50 million album sold mark. The life cycle of both business and art roll slowly and inexorably down the streets of time.

Bill Berry said upon his departure that he was “ready for a life change”. So if you want to take a stab at predicting the future of a business simply look for the point in time where the “insiders” proclaim that they are “ready for a change” and so begin getting off the cycle. For it is clear by their actions that they believe that they have better things to do. Things like create again.

Creation is the quintessence of entrepreneurship. So we must not be afraid nor look down upon those who leave to find their new life. Those special people among us are the serial entrepreneurs—both in the worrld of art and world of business. These folks create and continue to create. They create jobs; they create wealth; they create memories; and they create happiness–both for themselves and for those who come within their influence. R.EM. is over. But other bands are waiting impatiently to be the markers of time for another yet unborn generation. The same way Sony will one day be eclipsed by some other company started by a yet unborn entrepreneur.