R.E.M.: Accelerate

Prologue:

The story's simple enough and reported in detail elsewhere. After drummer Bill Berry left R.E.M. in 1997, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Michael Stipe carried on. They released three studio albums, the engaging if over-long Up, the pleasant enough Reveal, and the, frankly, bland Around the Sun. Apparently communication broke down between the three, and as they spent more and more time in the studio, Buck in particular became dissatisfied with the situation. They needed a new/old approach, to record fast and loud, to find their core. In the summer of 1997, they even held live rehearsals in Dublin, trying out new songs the way they used to in their days of endless touring. Now Accelerate is here, and R.E.M. have found that core.

It starts with a guitar riff:

Distorted but clear notes picked quickly, a finger lifted here and there. This is the sound of Peter Buck, a bit of rhythm and enough melody to hook the listener, a perfect blend of rock and pop. Drums, bass, and more guitar join, Michael Stipe rages at someone (the media apparently), and in the later choruses, Mike Mills' distinctive high voice calls Stipe's lines back to him. Three minutes and eleven seconds later, it ends with a clatter of guitars. A brief pause, and the guitar rings out a new open-chord, psychedelic, folk rock riff, Stipe sings about a man-sized wreath, whatever that is, and he's still pissed and a little snotty ("turn on the tv, what do I see?/a pageantry of empty gestures/all lined up for me, wow"). Mills' bass plays a melody at the center, the guitars add little R&B chords before the chorus rises in fully major chord splendor and Mills once again lends his voice. Now we've added only another two minutes and thirty-three seconds. Two songs ("Living Well's The Best Revenge" and "Man-sized Wreath"), less than six minutes, and if you're an R.E.M. fan you know what you're hearing -- melody, passion, emotion, lyrics that might or might not make sense, Mills' and Stipe's perfectly matched voices bouncing off each other, the "lead" bass filling the spaces the guitar leaves, and those shiny, wonderful guitar hooks. In short, you're hearing R.E.M.

Things get a little prettier with "Supernatural Superserious" and "Hollow Man," and it's not hard to think of the shift on Lifes Rich Pageant from "Begin the Begin" and "These Days" to "Fall on Me" and "Cuyahoga." Still, they don't get that pretty. On "Supernatural Superserious," the opening guitar chords crunch, and this strange tale of teen angst, seances, and apparitions builds to a powerful mix of harmonizing voices and layered, taut guitar lines. "Hollow Man" starts soft with a trickle of piano notes, Stipe's voice deep but clear. Bass, subtle drums, and gentle guitar arpeggios (welcome back) join but keep things quiet, then suddenly, the guitars strum big chords, and Stipe sings full out the catchiest chorus yet on an album that's already had three pretty damn catchy choruses. The second verse returns to the quiet, hangs around a little longer, and then the chorus explodes again, followed by a chiming, Byrdsy interlude, and then slap back into two choruses, a pogo-inspiring plow through the chords, and, bam, the end.

"Houston" offers the first slow song, a bit of a lament from the point of view of a Katrina survivor. Yet, it's not pretty. Instead, creepy organ and thundering, sliding bass augment the acoustic guitar, and the drums keep everything tight and to the point. This one would feel right at home on Automatic For the People. The pace picks up again, naturally, with "Accelerate." Buzzing guitar lines run underneath Stipe's voice and another melodic bass line. Drummer Bill Rieflin plugs away at the drums, working the high hat, responding to the vocals.

Then oddly enough, things decelerate a bit with three slower songs, a strategy that could have backfired. Luckily, each one feels different. The folksy hymn "Until the Day Is Done" risks malaise, but the slow march rhythm, the engaging acoustic guitar work, and Stipe's voice keep it interesting. Here, we also get a little piano, but unlike albums of the recent past, it adds texture, peeks through the other instruments when necessary, holds back when necessary, never overwhelms.

The electric guitars return in "Mr. Richards." They move up and down the neck, an E droning along. Harmonies join to build the emotion a little, keyboard notes appear now and again to counter vocal lines. It's really a lovely song, a strange address to a fallen politician of some kind, a combination of anger and beauty and maybe a little sadness with a great extended pigeon metaphor.

Strange doesn't begin to describe "Song For the Submarine," another song that could have run aground. Stipe has an explanation for the lyrics, but really keeping them cryptic works just fine. The music sells this one. It starts with eerie guitar notes, Stipe's voice, and some high bass notes. More layers arrive, a 3/4, slightly latin beat, long melodic guitar lines, spooky, distant background vocals in the chorus. It's a dream song, and it feels like a dream, an increasingly scary one, balanced a little by the hopeful chorus. This all builds to a rave-up of pounding drums, and more guitars as Buck almost tears at the strings. The song ends in the safety of repeated choruses (though the lyrics change some) and soaring background vocals. Everyone from the main band members to additional musician Scott McCaughey to producer Jacknife Lee deserves credit on this for not letting it meander, but Rieflin should get a special nod. He holds it together not just with good time but with intense, interesting drumming that supports and adds to the emotion of the song.

Drums of a different sort kick off "Horse to Water." We're back to blazing through punk-style, though the opening chords have a bit of Buck's Document/Green sound to them. Stipe near raps the lyrics, but the chorus shines with melody, more Mills vocals, fuzzy guitars, and somewhere a scream. Short and sweet right into the end of the world (again) with "I Gonna DJ," a defiant garage rave-up with a hard-to-nail-down structure. Sure, the song starts with "death is pretty final./I'm collecting vinyl./I'm gonna dj at the end of the woooorld," but it and the album end with "music will provide the light you cannot resist!/you cannot resist/you cannot resist/yeah."

That I can't.

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