R.E.M. Roars with Accelerate

An In-Depth Album Review

originally published April 2, 2008

R.E.M.

The news of R.E.M.’s 14th studio album traversed the world last year as the band performed its “live rehearsals” in Dublin, Ireland. Optimistic reviewers championed the band’s “return to form” and renewed energy. R.E.M.'s previous four albums (1996’s New Adventures in Hi-Fi, 1998’s Up, 2001’s Reveal and 2004’s Around the Sun) had all received mixed critical reactions ranging from confused irritation to shoulder-shrugging acceptance to outright slaughter. As one who found moments of beauty, insight and bliss in each of these records, I was never quite comfortable with the predictions that Accelerate would be a “return to form.” As a band that has made significant artistic jumps through its 28 years, R.E.M. has never fit any "form" other than being R.E.M., and the R.E.M. form, if it can be defined at all, is one that allows for total creative freedom.

Perhaps, with regard to those four albums, I was prepared to forgive them a multitude of sins in return for having already granted me a lifetime of memories. But, I don’t really think this is the case. Inasmuch as those albums were not the second volumes of Murmur, Reckoning and Life’s Rich Pageant, neither were they illogical entries into the R.E.M. canon. The fact is that R.E.M. has always excelled at making timeless music. Even when engaging contemporary themes, the band’s records never seemed to exist solely in the time of their release. Conversely, R.E.M. never sounded as out of place, as instantaneously dated, as they did when incorporating guest hip-hop vocalists or playing up campy glam-rock. That said, even those steps can be seen as consistent with the R.E.M. ethic of doing what the band wants, when it wants. Member Peter Buck famously remarked in the 1980s that he would rather sell less records but make them the way he wants than have to adjust his creativity to please an audience. For the past 12 years, audiences have rewarded this stance by purchasing significantly fewer R.E.M. records. I would like to think that this was because Buck had made exactly the records he wanted to make.

Significantly, with the exception of the Man on the Moon soundtrack and the band's live shows, R.E.M. has sounded quite isolated. That is, the albums had a sense of distance that translated into feelings of separation and then, eventually, into lethargy. Not a tiredness that comes from an exhaustive foray into excited musicality but, rather, one that accompanies a loneliness; a depressive state caused from too much wondering, worrying and wandering. By the time Around the Sun came out, R.E.M. didn’t even sound like a band anymore. We knew it was still Buck, Mike Mills and Michael Stipe on those records, but the sense of togetherness, the band-as-street-gang feeling that the best groups have always had, was missing. What we received instead were musical postcards that seemed to pass individually through the members' hands and were recorded by accident. While never sounding phoned-in or particularly shallow, the records left me wondering, at times, if the band members were even in the same studio while recording.

Now comes Accelerate. Finally, here is a declaration of R.E.M.'s unity. Its arrival marks the first studio-recorded evidence of R.E.M. sounding like a band in over a decade.

"Living Well is the Best Revenge"

The album kicks off with “Living Well is the Best Revenge,” the strongest album opener since “Finest Worksong” on 1987’s Document. Peter Buck leads the charge with what can only be called the classic R.E.M. ringing guitar. When the hook kicks in, it's a three chord rave-up that is unmistakably familiar R.E.M. territory. The song plays like a clarion call, telling listeners to sit up and pay attention.

Lyrically, Michael Stipe uses all his force to bark out “I’m not one to sit and spin/ ’cause living well’s the best revenge/ Baby, I am calling you on that.” It should be noted that the poignancy of this line is not derived from the standard interpretation which suggests that being successful is the best way to exact revenge on your naysayers. Rather, the line is a quote from 17th-century Welsh priest George Herbert who most likely spoke of "living well" in terms of living righteously. Given the current, most arguably disastrous, state of U.S. politics, it's evident how Stipe is directing his comments toward the reviled politicians who hypocritically claim to live righteously. In this way, “Living Well is the Best Revenge” is possibly the most affecting us-against-them anthem that R.E.M. has ever recorded.

"Man-Sized Wreath"

In a move that makes the album feel very live, the next track is a solid stomp called “Man-Sized Wreath.” This is also the track in which Mike Mills' background vocals, mostly harmonizing except for his extended note held at the very end, come into focus. Mills' background vocals have always been R.E.M.’s secret weapon. Even in the days when it was impossible to decipher a single Stipe lyric, Mills' airy, gentle vocals, regardless of their volume, gave the songs direction. The same is true here.

"Supernatural Superserious"

The first single from the album, “Supernatural Superserious,” shows up as the third track. Although it’s a brand new R.E.M. song, it triggers another gut feeling of having been here before. This time it comes through Buck’s three-two-three guitar strumming. As much a standard rock and roll phrasing as anything (if you've heard “Louie Louie” or, to a slightly lesser extent, “Start Me Up,” then you've heard it) in the hands of R.E.M. it doesn't possess any of its cliché potential. Rather, it’s the band utilizing rock and roll musical language. A thoughtful portrayal of teenage social isolation, the song is more hymn than biography. Stipe sings, “If your fantasies are/ dressed up in travesties/ enjoy yourself with no regrets” but ends the song with “Nobody cares no one remembers/ and nobody cares.” It’s ripe for interpretation as to whether he means that former tormenters have already forgotten their object or that, ultimately, all is forgiven. Nothing is made clearer, either, by the resignation in Stipe's voice as he sings the final lines.

"Hollowman"

Accelerate doesn't slow down until the first verse of “Hollow Man.” The gentle piano intro and Stipe’s cracking vocals share a bare confession of cruelty, shallowness and egocentrism. The protagonist admits, “I took the prize last night/ for complicatedness/ for saying things I didn’t mean/ and don’t believe.” Ultimately, though, the weary verse incongruously erupts into a sing-along chorus enigmatically declaring, “believe in me/ believe in nothing/ corner me and make me something.” In a mere two-and-a-half minutes, "Hollow Man" manages to explore the complexities of the weak and selfish spirit thoroughly. This astute and intimate analysis makes “Hollow Man” the first grand success of Accelerate.

"Houston"

"Accelerate"

After the contemplative, heavily fuzzed and organ-laden “Houston,” is the dark, urgent title track. “Accelerate” is both musically and thematically the same apocalyptic, end-of-the-world vision hinted at in Leonard Cohen’s “First We Take Manhattan” (coincidentally covered by R.E.M. on the 1991 tribute album to Cohen, I’m Your Fan).

However, whereas Cohen’s mood is somberly resolute, R.E.M. captures a frenzied determination - observant but defiantly incredulous. Stipe sings, “Where is the ripcord, the trapdoor, the key?/ Where is the cartoon escape-hatch for me?/ No time to question the choices I make/ I've got to follow another direction... I'm incomplete/ I'm incomplete / I'm incomplete.” Drummer Bill Rieflin's heavy heart-beat throb percussion moves the track along while a buzzing lead guitar lies underneath the surface - a constant threat of electric shock. The tension is intense, and you can't help but just exhale at the close of the track.

"Mr. Richards"

The chorus of “Mr. Richards” is cheerfully buoyant, although the song is about someone going to prison while his victims are set free. Presumably a political figure, Mr. Richards is never explicitly in a real-life prison but, for me at least, in a rock-and-hard-place prison of having made his choices, being judged and resolutely rejected by the masses. Further, even as Stipe expresses happiness, he tenderly acknowledges his enemies' humanity. He sings, “Mr. Richards, you're forgiven/ for a narrow lack of vision/ But the fires are still raging on... You're mistaken if you think we'll just forget.”

"Horse to Water"

The defiance of “Horse To Water” is a chill-inducing thrill ride. Buck punctuates Stipe's barked lyrics with single-note riffing before blasting into the full, distorted-guitar realm of “fuck off” politics. The song makes saying "no" fun again. I easily hit repeat a full five times to hear Stipe sing these lines: “I could have kept my head down/ I might have kept my mouth shut/ I should have held my own/ You lead a horse to water and you watch him drown... Don't you know that what comes around goes around?/ I'm not that easy/ I am not your horse to water” (emphasis added).

"Sing for the Submarine"

"Until the Day Is Done"

Both "Sing for the Submarine" and "Until the Day Is Done" are lesser tracks, although neither function as mere filler. Needless to say, when the album is barely over a half-hour long, the guys in R.E.M. are masters at self-editing. The fact is, neither track is powerful enough to draw attention to itself outside the context of the whole album. "Until the Day Is Done" is a fairly straightforward political narrative whose mood and texture were first seen in the Document era. "Sing for the Submarine," though, is characteristic of Up-era R.E.M., albeit with the minor chord progression being played on guitars and strings instead of keyboards. There's a tinge of psychedelia, or at least late 1960s pop, throughout the track.

"I'm Gonna DJ"

Accelerate rounds itself off in house-party mode with “I’m Gonna DJ.” A simple, garage rocker, the song is a casting off of the heaviness that has preceded it on the album.

It functions, however, not as an alleviation but, rather, as a catalyst to remind us that what matters, and what has always mattered, is the music itself. “If death is pretty final/ I'm collecting vinyl/ I'm gonna DJ at the end of the world... Hey steady steady… I don't wanna go 'til I'm good and ready.” The track could easily be interpreted as either a literal end-of-the-world party or a barely veiled reaction to those who had written R.E.M. off. Still, it reminds me most of the tracks present on early R.E.M. bootlegs that never got recorded - the house-party, set-filling rock and roll escapes.

Final Word

Accelerate is full of similar reminders. The verse melody of “Mr. Richards” recalls “King of Birds” just as surely as Buck’s opening notes to “Accelerate” recall “Feeling Gravity’s Pull.” The guitar passage at 1:45 on “Hollow Man” is very similar to the opening notes of “Pretty Persuasion,” just as the overall mood of “Houston” raises thoughts of “I Remember California” in my mind.

But the point isn’t that R.E.M. has simply dug into its past and reworked it for our gratification. Neither is it the case that R.E.M. has ever had a particular sound that they were necessarily married to. It is the case that through 28 years and 14 albums the band has consistently created its own voice. It is also the case that its voice has been, for too long, hushed to near silence by albums where it seemed the band wasn't speaking, musically, to each other. Accelerate is a triumphant return - not to a uniqueness the band never lost, but to R.E.M. being a band again. Even with its serious, (sometimes devastatingly so) subject matter, Accelerate is a celebration. It is as musically thrilling as it is politically hopeful. And, ultimately, it is as much a gift from the band to themselves as it is a gift to us.

Gordon Lamb