The American Analog Set in a nutshell.

I did a post a while back wherein I summed up the R.E.M. catalog in a few paragraphs (or at least the part that matters to me).  It remains one of the most read posts on this blog.  So, as the feeling hits me, I plan on reviving the "in a nutshell" idea where I'll just run down a band's output and point out the stuff that matters (again, to me — and, subsequently, like minded listeners).  So, here's part two in the series (is it officially a series now?).

The American Analog Set was America's greatest band that no one cared about in the mid and late 90's (sorry, Wilco, but you got redemption eventually).  Establishing their cult through Austin, Texas (and the instant credibility of the Emperor Jones label), the AmAnSet (as they lovingly became known) drifted by over the course of about a decade with generally favorable reviews and limited reception but nobody ever really got that excited about them because the music they created was so subtle and calm (and the revolving door cast of musicians —and subsequent lack of any sort of detail on the band's sleeve notes— certainly didn't help).  It's very easy now to hear them and say something accurate like, "It's like if Stereolab only did top tier songs all the time" or, "It's like all of their songs are variations of Radiohead's 'Street Spirit' on a smaller budget."  Just imagine the beautiful Soundgasm™ that would've resulted had they joined forces with like-minded peers the Sea and Cake.  So, let's go back to a strange and wonderful time when drop D power chords and meandering post-Kurt Cobain grunge dominated the airwaves.  And yet, here were these mellow Texas kids playing what was essentially shoegaze, only at reasonable volumes, who were led by a singer that preferred to whisper (or stand at least five feet away from the mic).  Yes, welcome back to the 90's.

The Fun of Watching Fireworks (1996)

To describe this band as "low key" or "subtle" just seems cheap. That's like calling Bill Evans' music "pretty" or Sonic Youth's music "loud." When that's what the entire manifesto of what the band is about, if you're first reaction is to call them "subtle", I think it's safe to say that you missed the point. An obsession with distance and a healthy dose of echo on the keyboards helps make the band's first statement nearly their definitive one. Beginning with one of the greatest side one/track ones ever, 'Diana Slowburner II' (part one has never been released — if it even exists, that is), should lull any astute listener into a near trance by ninety seconds in. And that's the game that is to be played here: repetition. The majority of the album's nine songs are six minutes or longer and the majority of that time is spent purely on repeating grooves. Are there any great pop songs here? In all honesty. . . no. This is like the most listenable fringe music you'll ever hear. The closest things come to accessible is the spaciously catchy 'Gone to Earth' but even that begins with a two minute instrumental vamp that has nothing else to do with the proper song.  So, yeah.  Want big pop hooks and endlessly catchy riffs?  Nothing here for you.  But, if you want just sheer impressions of dreamy sound, there's lots of that.  In the bigger picture, it's obviously just a warm up lap.  But the good tracks are among the band's best.  Highlight: like all good punk-minded bands, the AmAnSet began their first album with a side one/track one that's arguably their definitive tune with 'Diana Slowburner II.'  Love that elliptical riff.  Just wonderful.

From Our Living Room To Yours (1997)

The title is an allusion to the band's method of recording. And, while this one was recorded partially during the same sessions that yielded their first album, there seems to be a better overall assertion of purpose here. There's more variety, more thoughtful use of the songs' lengthy running times and, overall, just more consistency. The band, for the first time, feels completely right under (lead singer and main critical force) Andrew Kenny's direction. The way this album starts is just genius, with its hip hop-sized ego: a piece of dialogue sampled from who-knows-where declares, "We provide the fireworks, you provide the 'Ooooohh's and 'Aaaaahh's." And, bam, the super tight brush-stroked beat of 'Magnificent Seventies' hits you like you were supposed to know it was coming all along. That is how you start an album. When the sounds of sampled fireworks exploding finishes out the nine-minute opener, you know this is gonna be a really good one. And I should say right now: this one's heavier reliance on a definitively stated backbeat (no matter how lowly the drumkit is actually mixed in) is where it succeeds. Even the last three tracks (which are very deep "mood piece" type cuts, to be absolutely sure) remain their own distinct entities because of the more pronounced big(-ish?) beat. The band's first real pop song (use your imagination) is included with 'Where Have All The Good Boys Gone' and that Slowdive-esque ending is just killer, isn't it? Consistency, here we come! Highlight: the delicious Kraut-pop™ of 'Magnificent Seventies'; though closer 'Don't Wake Me' is not only like a more acoustic-y Joy Division-meets-Codeine, it also sets the scene for the band's somber masterpiece of a follow up.

bliss out v.9 (1997)

Part of the wonderful Darla label's "bliss out" series, it was the AmAnSet's first appearance away from their local Emperor Jones label. It's just two long tracks —the catchy Kraut-pop™ vamp-with-narrations 'Late One Sunday' and the seeming intended-for-meditation repetitious synth of 'The Following Morning'— that are very nice, but really just a nicely included subplot to our main story. Highlight: if you like one, you like the other.

The Golden Band (1998)

If the band has one big defining longform statement, this is it. This is that album that is not bound by any one or two hugely popular songs, but instead, sounds incomplete when not played front to back. This is the Astral Weeks of the 90's. It is about Andrew Kenny's growing up in, and coming to grips with the fickle nature of, for lack of better terminology, "the scene." It is romanticizing of the past, bitter about the present and hopeful about the future. Even though most of his work before this album and since then arrives at much more obtuse observations, this album is precise and poignant, like this was the record he intended to make the first time around. Rookie mistakes are now corrected (splitting 'New Drifters' up into four more easily digestible pieces is a fantastic executive decision). The way the band has developed so slightly, but so effectively, is heard on songs like the jangly 'It's All About Us', the incredible centerpiece 'The Wait' or the time signature trickery of 'I Must Soon Quit the Scene' is not immediately noticeable, but it will definitely become apparent on second or third listen. Intensely personal and just wonderfully catchy, this is the band's best. Highlight: the dreamy vibes on 'I Must Soon Quit the Scene.'

Through the 90's: Singles and Unreleased (1995-1999)

Figures that this band would release singles like they actually meant to get on the pop charts all along. This album is very unfairly named, as it contains 90% exclusive to this disc material. Sure, there's songs you've heard before, but the shorter takes on tunes like 'It's All About Us' are not only alternate recordings, they provide a fascinating peek at the band's process. And besides, it shows the band in full on hypocrite mode, managing an even spacier 'Diana Slowburner II' (seriously, why was this the single version?).  Otherwise, there's so much non-album material, it's pretty much like its own album. It wasn't intended to be a proper album, so it lacks on the sequencing and consistency, but all of the non-album material and especially the live recordings (which find the band in totally flawless form) make it absolutely essential for fans. Highlight: very tempting to say the Dr. Pepper jingle, but really, 'The Only Living Boy Around.'

Know By Heart (2001)

A long break between albums (three years, in fact, and the longest ever for the band) and label a switch and they came back with a streamlined version of their own sound. The kickoff tune 'Punk As Fuck' may have an attention grabbing title, but the actual tune is simple and effective, using a heavier reliance on vibraphone. There's a previously unnoticed new wave influence in tunes like 'Like Foxes Through Fences' or 'The Kindness of Strangers' (replace the vibes with early 80's synths and this is basically an Orange Juice song — I can't be the only one that hears this!). Meanwhile, 'Choir Vandals' is the sort of song that's so different and so good, you just have to wonder why it took someone so long to write it. There's a great revive of the meat portion of 'Gone to Earth' which just exemplifies how tight the band had gotten in the interim. The album closer 'We're Computerizing and We Just Don't Need You' points the band straight back into Golden Band territory, and boy, what a fine way to spend fourty minutes. Ben Gibbard's all over it (he was an unofficial member for a while there). It's really good; probably should be the second album you get into, unless it was your first. Highlight: 'Choir Vandals.' Fake neo-soul. Hell yeah.

Promise of Love (2003)

This album reminds me of the Feelies. It's rocked up for these guys, but, as always with a very serious consideration for layers of clean-toned guitar. It's definitely their most abrasive album (if you can even legitimately apply a word like "abrasive" to this band). Check out the uber-psychedelic opener 'Continuous Hit Music' and just marvel at how good the band had gotten at its "thing" by this point (a revive of the presumed demo of the tune as a hidden bonus track at the end of the album is definitely a welcome surprise). I don't love it like I do all of their other albums, but it's definitely the rawer, rougher "evil twin" (if you will) of Know by Heart, so that in itself, is fun. Highlight: 'Come Baby Julie, Come Home' for the gorgeous second half of the tune.

Home, Vol. 5 (2004)

A wonderful little side-thingy from the equally as wonderful Post-Parlo records series that finds the second half highlighting Andrew's acoustic solo recordings. The first half is Ben Gibbard from Death Cab for Cutie and his half is good (he covers 'Choir Vandals' and it's good!).  Andrew's half features three songs, which at the time were new, and a cover of Death Cab's 'Line of Best Fit.'  Definitely worth it for 'Church Mouse in the Church House', which is surprisingly haunting and atmospheric for just a plaintive acoustic tune.  The whole thing's just straight, no nonsense acoustic guy strumming and it should go without saying that if you're even a casual fan of either of these guys, it's a must hear.  Highlight: 'Church Mouse' obviously.

Set Free (2005)

And finally jumping over to the Canadian Arts and Crafts label for their swan song. This album not only begins with one of the band's best tunes ever in 'Born on the Cusp' (I'd say top five, easily), it wraps things up nicely.  They finally stopped fiddling about and paid proper tribute to Codeine, one of their biggest influences, on the fantastically buzzing cover of 'JR.'  They had finally recorded a full band record in a proper studio and streamlined their songs into proper three or four minute pop masterworks.  This is especially evident as four of the album's tracks ('First of Four', 'Cool Kids Keep', 'Everything Ends' and 'Green Green Grass'), all of which clocked in at three minutes or less, were featured in much longer versions (seven and eight minutes) on their respective singles.  They had perfected what they did.  It needed to end, because there was nowhere else to go.  You can only repeat yourself so many times before it becomes mundane and the trick (however great it may be) starts to lose its lustre.  Andrew Kenny is a very smart man and obviously recognized this.  The band dissolved without much fanfare and Andrew resurfaced about five years later with the more acoustic-based Wooden Birds.  That's a good story, too.  But not one to be told right now.  Highlight: 'Born on the Cusp' which is not only catchy as hell, it's a helluva lot of fun to play for yourself.  Try it!

Hard to Find: Singles and Unreleased 2000-2005 (2009)

This puts the bow on the package that Set Free wrapped. And it's a big, colorful, understated bow. Unfortunately a digital-only release, if nothing else, it's worth it for the brilliant full version and band apex of 'Everything Ends in Spring.' It almost feels like that song is what they were working towards the entire time and they called it quits not long afterwords because they knew they could never top it. It's one of my favorite songs of all time and it makes me boogie. A few demos and some non-album stuff and this package is a perfect top-off to one of the most impressive runs in modern rock music. I can't recommend it enough. Highlight: 'Everything Ends' because the bassline is a killer too.

And yeah, Andrew then rebooted himself into Wooden Birds around the same time and got comfortable. Behind himself, he left the AmAnSet discography, fragmented, sidebar-filled and absolutely top gear the whole way through. Not really gone long enough to achieve revival popularity and not popular enough the first time around to stay on most folks' minds, their catalogue has sadly drifted out of print for the most part. But, jeez oh man, is it worth a revisit. The band is one of my all time favorites if for no other reason than what they didn't do: they never played anything when it wasn't completely necessary. Theirs is a music full of space and quiet moments. Contrarily easy to know what to expect from them — yet they were never short on surprises. The sheer audacity of a band to play shoegaze at quiet volumes is enough to get me on their side initially, but throw in absolutely top tunes throughout and you get one of the greatest nearly forgotten pop bands ever. May they play as quietly as they want for all time.

~Austin

R.E.M. in a nutshell.

I've dug back into R.E.M. after years of having a few of their early albums and honestly just neglecting them. As a fan of 8o's post-punk and indie guitar rock, it's very easy to overlook R.E.M. as one of the defining American bands of the 8o's for one simple reason: they're enormously popular. They started indie, went major, got huge, got bloated and got boring. But they've always at least remained interesting (most recently because of the circumstances and not the music; which is always unfortunate). After a conversation recently with a friend, I realized, I should say something about one of the best bands to ever do it. I will try to keep this somewhat contained to within a reasonable length, but I make no promises. Sticking to official albums and stopping where I feel like they really did lose it, here's R.E.M. in a nutshell. . .

Chronic Town (1981)


As good as they were later on, I still find that this five song EP is the most enduring and just downright best thing they've ever done. It's like a post-punk band trying to play like the Byrds. Too nervous and jittery to be able to sound so polished, but with enough (alluringly simple) melodic ideas to pull it off. All Music has famously remarked that R.E.M. marked the point where post-punk officially became 'alternative rock' and while I would agree, for this EP and its follow up, they were still playing firmly in the post-punk mindset. The guitars may jangle more than their other post-punk peers, but Mitch Easter's stark production and Bill Berry's bare bones drumming makes them sound essentially like a slightly more polished garage band. Highlight: 'Carnival of Sorts (Box Cars)' wherein Michael Stipe's mumbly jumbly vocals seem fully formed already as he babbles on about "Chronic town, poster torn, weeping wheel" and then all of a sudden explodes into, "BOX CARS ARE TURNING OUT OF TOWN. BOX CARS." Still one of the band's definitive songs.

Murmur (1983)


Where Chronic Town's presentation was sparse and no-nonsense, Murmur's production is still clear and jangly, but it sounds like maybe there is extra reverb on everything. Also, the songs are a bit more obtuse in their structure. Besides the big riff and glorious chorus of 'Radio Free Europe', most of the songs avoid traditional structure altogether. A song like 'Laughing' is just flat out sparse brilliance, as its lyrics mean absolutely nothing, but its riff is undeniable. In the end, the band never made another album quite like how Murmur sounds. It's almost ambient jangle at some points. Totally unique sound and vision. Highlight: 'We Walk' probably because it has one of the only coherent sets of lyrics on the album.

Reckoning (1984)


I wouldn't have used the word 'artsy' to describe Murmur in its own review because it only seems like it is when you consider what came immediately before it and immediately after it. Because when an album like Reckoning comes along and still sounds revolutionary despite its staunchly conservative and classicist sound, everything comes into focus. There are some days I'd call this my favorite R.E.M. album. Just based on pure songwriting, this one knocks it out of the park within the first four tracks. Peter Buck famously remarked later on that he thinks side one of this album is the best single side of a record that the band ever did. I can't say I blame him. The riffs throughout are layered and evolving, the choruses are simple and effective as hell and the sequencing and consistency of the whole thing is just tops. Truly, this sounds less like a band forcing themselves into something and more like a band trying to keep up with the creativity that was obviously bubbling over. One of the most definitive jangle albums of all time. Highlight: Still 'So. Central Rain', despite maybe slight overplayage throughout the years. It's just one of those warm, fuzzy pop singles that became popular on sheer quality. The song's stature —and the rest of the album's, for that matter— has only grown with time.

Fables of the Reconstruction (1985)


You know something's wrong when Peter Buck labors away at that nearly mathematical riff right off the bat on 'Feeling Gravity's Pull.' And make no bones about it: that song (the album's opener, no less) was the darkest and just downright bleakest thing the band had done at the time. Produced by Joe Boyd, recorded in England and bringing in some dreary string augmentations, this is R.E.M.'s slowest, darkest and just all around best album in my ears. Always has been, in fact. I like the sludgy riffs. I like the gloom. I love the slowness of the whole thing. At this point, the band could probably have farted in unison and it would've come out as a melodic idea for a glorious riff. But, when I say this album is dark and gloomy, recontextualize that for an R.E.M. setting. While you still get some pretty bleak-sounding stuff like 'Maps and Legends' and 'Kohoutek' (an extremely underrated song), it's all filtered through the band's modern folk rock slant, so it's not like the thing is competing with Joy Division or anything (well, maybe if PB had played that riff on 'Feeling Gravity's Pull' a little more sloppily and with some feedback — you get the idea). 'Driver 8' is just one of those magnificent R.E.M. jangle pop gems that sounds incredible every time I hear it. Just top stuff, man. Joe Boyd's production is a match made in heaven for this material because it's longing and melancholy, while not forgetting the bigger picture fact that this is still a guitar band trying to make a pop record. Really wonderful stuff. I often go back to it and marvel at just how damn good it is. Because it's that good. Highlight: 'Feeling Gravity's Pull' with its labyrinthine riff and weird —even for Michael Stipe at this point— surreal lyrics. Stone cold is how classic it is.

Lifes Rich Pageant (1986)


In which, the formula for the R.E.M. album, as we now know it, is formed. It rocks out a little ('Begin the Begin'), it gets folky ('Swan Swan H') and, most of all, it's got a few downright resonatingly great jangle pop tunes ('Fall on Me' and the greatly underrated political track 'Cuyahoga'). It's fine enough, I suppose. But I guess it's the first album where I find that they got a bit complacent and comfortable for the first time. A comfortable R.E.M. is not necessarily a bad thing, but it's also not very interesting most of the time. Don't get me wrong, a three-and-a-half for an 80's R.E.M. album is like a twelve hundred for any other band. But it just feels for the first time like they didn't give it their all. And the album suffers because of that. Highlight: 'Cuyahoga' because of the g'damm chorus vocals. Just heaven, they are.

Document (1987)


Different approach to production, different sounds, generally strong results. 'Finest Worksong' is an awesome, and quite brilliant, opening song. I'm almost positive I'd hate it if it were anywhere else in the album sequence. But it just opens things up, rocking out, big dated mid-80's drum sound; great stuff. And then it just awesomely jangles away like it's trying to be Reckoning or something. Can I just say that, removed from overplayage and all the cultural baggage bullshit that it picked up, I think 'It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)' is really a rather fantastic song? Would that make me a bad person at this point? Because structurally, melodically, rhythmically, it's pretty fucking sharp. The harmonies, the riffs. Sheesh. I can only imagine what it was like being a teenager in 1987 and hearing that for the first time. I was only six, so as much as I would like to pretend I was that hip, all I have is a hindsight appreciation. Call it overplayed and old by this point, but what a fucking monument, in the bigger picture. I nominate it for the esteemed title of "The indie rock 'Free Bird'." And then, just guess what the next fucking song is. I dare you. Fucking guess, man. Only 'The One I Love.' One of the greatest pop singles in history followed by it's little brother. The rest of the album is good and it ends with the awesome fan favorite 'Oddfellows Local 151' but what else can you say, honestly? It's got no less than two of the best songs ever written on it. What else do you want? Highlight: 'The One I Love.' Just because.

Green (1988)


I know this is a line in the sand for just about everyone familiar with the band. R.E.M. got really popular off of Document and its two incredible singles, so off to a major record label they went and all hell broke loose. As it usually does, the hype surrounding the ethics of such a thing overshadowed the actual music. And, in this case, they just maintained. Didn't get better, didn't get worse; just made the same old class act, left field pop that they had been doing for a while. If anything, it was actually a step towards a little more willfully inaccessible music. 'Pop Song 89' is a silly goof, but catchy as heck. 'Get Up' is slow and sludgy. 'You Are Everything' is quiet and folky. 'Stand' is another amazing pop single whose popularity overshadows its actual quality. And then, the next three songs are arguably the best hat trick that the band ever pulled off. 'World Leader Pretend' is an incredible political allegory set to a dark, lush folk rock backing. It's one of the best things the band ever did (and there's a reason that it's the only song that had its lyrics printed on the album sleeve). 'The Wrong Child' is just about the most convincing thing they ever did to sound like a real folk band (and it's surprisingly affecting). And then 'Orange Crush' is just a textbook example of an anthemic single gone completely right. One of the defining albums of "alternative" rock for a reason. Maybe not their overall best, but I think I may go back to it more than just about anything else in their catalogue. Highlight: 'World Leader Pretend' because it's simultaneously pompous and catchy. Just excellent music.

Out of Time (1991)


God, I hate 'Radio Song.' I like the message, but the actual execution is pee-pee poor. Overproduced, contrived funk rock schlock. And, as a whole, this album is overproduced in the classic sense. Keyboards where they don't need to be, big boombastic drum sounds and just that all around stock early 90's big budget sheen. But the songs are good, for the most part. I like 'Shiny Happy People' just because I probably have a secret crush on Kate Pierson that I haven't fully addressed yet — but I do understand why somebody wouldn't like it. 'Losing My Religion' is, again, one of those great jangly R.E.M. singles that just ballooned out of control and got too popular for its own good. Elsewhere, 'Near Wild Heaven' is one of the rare non-Michael Stipe sung R.E.M. songs that is genuinely good. 'Belong' is a strangely catchy half-spoken thing and 'Texarcana' sounds straight out off the Reckoning demo reel (and, again, isn't sung by Stipe). Overall, a bit more folky and "weird" than you'd expect if you only knew the singles, but a darn solid effort, especially amongst the sometimes hindering production. Highlight: (surprisingly?) the two numbers where Mike Mills takes lead vocals ('Near Wild Heaven' and 'Texarcana').

Automatic for the People (1992)


I really like that the band's biggest album —the one that is, at once, their most acoustic-based, most pleasing to both their old fans and their new fans and probably the darkest of their major label albums— starts off with Michael Stipe, nearly whispering atop a Peter Buck acoustic strum, "Hey kids, rock and roll. Nobody tells you where to go." Fuggin' brilliant, buddy. Sure, 'Everybody Hurts' was so popular that even your grandparents probably know it, but take away the popularity and, again, you get a really affecting and genuine pop single. I could go without ever hearing it again, but to my eleven year old brain, seeing the video on MTV and —especially considering that I wasn't even into that sort of music— actually feeling something was pretty relevant. It's a first for R.E.M. because they had never done anything close to a power ballad at all before this, so I guess consider it significant just because of that. The rest of the album, like I said, is pretty dark and melancholy. And Michael Stipe swears a lot for some reason (seriously, what's up with that?). The other single, 'Man on the Moon,' is one of my favorite R.E.M. songs just because it captures that amazingly resonating classic pop single mood so well. The whole album is great, honestly. But don't judge it by the singles. Because you're totally wrong (even though the singles are pretty good), if you're doing that. Highlight: the sludgy rocker 'Ignoreland' that recalls Document, or maybe even Fables. It sounds like nothing else on the album and is all the more awesome for it.

Monster (1994)


Does this album suck? Or is it just R.E.M. finally lightening up and having fun, therefore making a genuinely good album? I don't know. Sure, a third of the songs are actually pretty stupid and contrived, but am I a bad person because. . . I. . . uhm. . . kind of like it? Whatever the case may be, I can now hear this as what I've shaped it to be in my own little twisted musical world: it's R.E.M.'s glam album. With all these crunchy guitar tones and catchy hooks, how could I hear it as anything else? Disposable as hell, but does it sound awesome when it's playing? You betcha. And besides, starting an album with 'What's the Frequency, Kenneth?' and 'Crush With Eyeliner' does not hurt at all. I remember reading an interview with Michael Stipe (around 2003/2004) where he described this album as "a big fat, wah-wah pedal that we needed to get out of our system." And that makes sense, I guess. R.E.M. had never really "rocked out" for an entire album before; just in short bursts. So, why not, right? Highlight: the album closer 'You' which is actually a point where they get genuinely psychedelic. God bless the 90's, right?

New Adventures in Hi-Fi (1996)


Motherfruggit, I don't care: this album kicks butts with no prejudice. A boxer or your grandma get the same treatment: a swift kick in the hiney by some of the band's most original material ever. The problem is: everybody hates on the darn thing because it's rumoured to be the album that made Bill Berry have an aneurism and say, "Hey dudes, I'm a farmer now." But, as a final sendoff for the band's original lineup, they basically made an update of Document or Green. It rocks a little, it folks a little, but mostly, it entertains a lot. Go ahead and deny it, like everybody else in the world. Call it too long, call it boring or whathaveyou. I call it a creative rebirth. The more rockin' Monster sound hasn't gone away, but with the sonic chances they took on that album, they must have picked up a new flair for studio knob-twiddling because the dynamics and layers achieved on this album sound like no other R.E.M. album before it. Honestly, this is the first R.E.M. album that doesn't sound like every song was just recorded live in the studio — irony supreme, as it was notoriously recorded in pieces amongst makeshift studios and soundchecks during the Monster tour. They've finally gotten a handle on how to properly overproduce an album. It's a weird one, too. I mean, seriously, the single was 'E-Bow the Letter.' Good song, sure. But that's one weird thing to try and get into the top 40 (even though, wow at the balls it took to release that as an a-side; the hook is "Aluminum tastes like fear" ferrchrissakes!). Highlight: 'Leave.' Only the longest and best song they ever did. Yeah, it's that good.

Up (1998)


Anutha muthafrugga because, sheesh, I luh this one too. It's infamously the band's first album without Bill Berry. And without one-fourth of their previous being present, they get all produced and smarty pants-sounding. Kind of like "pop art" before Kanye West was a pretentious a-hole about the whole labeling it that thing. 'Airportman' will blow you away. And then somebody will tell you it's an R.E.M. song and you'll need a clean pair of undergarments. And then the next song is 'Lotus.' Due apologies to the fanboys out there, but I'm sorry. Any album that starts with that one-two punch is better than Lifes Rich Pageant. It just is. Deal with it. Sure, the single was the somewhat MOR-minded 'Daysleeper' but even that is a good song within the album's running order. And, really, look at the first six songs. What an awesome bunch of super artsy pop songs. I love this album. And it has a great, uplifting 'overcoming the odds' tone to it that is just refreshing to hear, especially at this point. Highlight: 'Walk Unafraid.' You don't even remember what it sounds like, do you? For shame.
Reveal (2001)



Overproduced as all get out, but it sounds fine while it's playing, I suppose. At times, it almost sounds like they are consciously saying to themselves, "Hey, all those cool, interesting subtle guitar and keyboard layer sounds we awesomely snuck into the last album need to go, but let's keep all the stupid, cheesy guitars and keyboards." As much as I love the fact that they said the name of my hometown on the single, I still can't deny that it's blatantly overproduced. The dynamics from New Adventures and Up are completely gone, in favor of volume compression and that's just disappointing. 'Disappear' is a good song, I guess. I just hear layers and layers of unnecessities. Imagine that song on Fables and you see my point. Again, it's fine while it's playing, but there's very little substance. Highlight: 'I'll Take the Rain' because it sounds as depressed by this album's underwhelming quality as I am. At least it sounds genuine next to everything else here — all of which ends up sounding very cartoony. In a bad way.

And then, Around the Sun was even worse and, after that, I cared no longer. I guess they've gotten "better" in recent years, but I just can't bring myself to listen to another R.E.M. album that's as compressed and lifeless sounding as their last few. Up, as maligned as it became, at least sounded interesting from a production standpoint. Like the songs or not, at least they sounded cool on headphones in a dark room.

And I guess that's what I will always love about R.E.M. (at their best) in the end: they always make you feel like you're not alone. No matter how bad you feel, you can pick up Reckoning or Green and forget about your troubles for fourty minutes or so and just immerse yourself in some heartfelt expression that may be emotional, but in a completely true way that —and this is the whole point— is entirely life-affirming.

~Austin