Since its 1982 debut, Murmur, R.E.M. has succeeded in paving the
non-mainstream promenades of rock music. The band has outlived virtually all of its
contemporaries with muted fanfare, relatively little controversy and irreverence to the
commercialism that has come to plague today's music industry. Indeed, there had been no
real "turds in the punchbowl" of R.E.M.'s career, as frontman Michael Stipe
said.
With such a history, it was a big deal when drummer Bill Berry decided in
1997 it was time to quit the band that he had helped create. For the first time in its 18
years, R.E.M. hit a major snag.
But instead of dwelling on the negatives of such a stinging loss, the remaining three
members of R.E.M. capitalized on the opportunity to throw caution to the wind by
completely revamping their approach to songwriting. The result is Up, a densely
textured, sprawling masterpiece that outshines and outclasses most
of the late '90s rock releases.
Having set the electric guitar aside in favor of keyboards, mellotrons and
kitschy noise machines, guitarist Peter Buck and bassist Mike Mills traded job
descriptions for Up, playing each other's instruments in addition to a host of
other rhythm machines and analog synthesizers from Buck's private collection.
The first listen to Up is likely to incite a few raised eyebrows
and dropped jaws. Aside from Stipe's trademark vocals, its not always easy to
believe that the music underneath is being played by R.E.M.
In fact, the album begins with the band's most experimental offering to date, as the low
gurgles of "Airport Man" fizz, pop and crackle into an eerie coagulation of soft
vocals and vibrating keyboards.
Following suit to 1996's New Adventures in Hi-Fi and 1995's Monster,
the second track of Up proves to be the album's real jumpstarter.
"Lotus" kicks off with a raspy "Hey, hey!" chant and a dazzling
roller-rink keyboard intro, ultimately stepping into a swaggering chorus. A vintage guitar
riff rattles around the verses, recalling the warped and jagged edginess of 1985's
Fables of the Reconstruction.
For all its weirdness, parts of Up bear similarities to many
other R.E.M. albums. The mandolin sections on "You're In The Air" could just
have easily fit on Out of Time, while the darker aura of "Sad
Professor" and "The Apologist" would not be terribly out of place on Automatic
For The People.
Thanks to Stipe's ease with channeling his emotions in a third-person voice, Up
is another "character record," much like Fables of the Reconstruction.
But where the subject matter of Fables songs came from actual fixtures of
Stipe's Athens neighborhood, the characters on Up are mostly creations of Stipe's
imagination.
The protagonist of "Hope" struggles with the decision of whether
to trust science or religion, while the elderly gentleman in "Sad Professor"
finally comes to grips with his inability to get through to his students. A courtroom
drama unfolds in the spooky bass-driven "Diminished," while a moment of epiphany
bursts open for the subject of "Walk Unafraid," - Stipe's favorite album track -
which was lyrically inspired by Patti Smith.
The album's lone love song is perhaps the best track on Up, with
some of the most romantic imagery ever to grace an R.E.M. album. "I count your
eyelashes secretly / with every one whisper I love you," croons Stipe in the Beach
Boys-esque "At My Most Beautiful." With multi-part background harmonies and an
orchestral swirl of strings and piano, this is clearly the best song Brian Wilson never
wrote.
Much like OK Computer, Up works best when the drips and
churps of the added instrumentation enhance the melody instead of drown it out. The
frazzled synthesizer on "Suspicion" fills out its subtle background, eliciting
one of Stipe's most gorgeous melodies in recent memory. First single
"Daysleeper" benefits from a few wisps of feedback and remains the album's most
traditionally structured R.E.M. song. Here, Stipe discusses the dangers of technology and
its effects on a night worker whose stressful nights have been colored "headache
grey" with responsibility. The song's infectious minor-keyed chorus proves R.E.M. is
still more than capable of appealing to a mass audience.
In the bands tradition of strong album closers, Falls To
Climb, the closing salvo of Up, is a chilling session of
self-introspection. Light-years from Radio Free Europe but still perfectly
essential, Mills' soft organ and Buck's acoustic guitar melt with Stipe's powerful and
uplifting chorus to unearth the tracks quintessential R.E.M. feel.
There's no hiding the obvious changes in R.E.M.'s approach to the mixing
and arranging on Up. But the unmistakably familiar elements of melody and beauty
that remain at the songs' cores shine through. Repeated listens to Up will assure
fans that R.E.M. still possesses an undeniable talent for making great albums.