Author: Chris Bickley

All the Best

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Release date: 07/03/2011 | Length: 2:48 | Release: Collapse into Now | SuE: #218

It’s just like me to overstay my welcome man

Strip away the vocals and what do you have? It’s a rock song, plain and simple. Sure, it’s a good rock song, one that scratches an itch, but R.E.M. aren’t really known for plain and simple. Collapse into Now wasn’t their most innovative record musically speaking, but even All the Best might be a little too straightforward for R.E.M.. Maybe that’s why it was not a popular pick by listeners for Slicing Up Eyeballs’ huge poll in 2017; only a handful of album tracks were less popular.

Very few people picked up on R.E.M.’s dissolution as a band before the news came in September 2011, despite it being decided internally for some time. In hindsight, the signs were there. The band are waving goodbye on the album cover, the record is littered with references to their impending demise, and this song’s title is a common sign-off. Perhaps people were too wary of interpreting Stipe’s lyrics literally, after all these years of obfuscation. “I’ll give it one more time, I’ll show the kids how to do it”. It’s obvious isn’t it? Maybe this song would’ve gained more recognition at the time were the departure of the band known, as All the Best got scant attention in contemporary reviews.

It’s a great vocal performance, and despite my criticisms of its plainness earlier, I’m a sucker for no-frills alternative rock. In the verses, with its screechy, frequently curtailed riffs, it sounds like…Nine Black Alps? Idlewild? Feeder? Someone in that early 00s minor canon. We have a more obvious point of reference in the chorus, as Peter Buck reprises the riff from The One I Love for a brief moment.

Things come thick and fast in All the Best, as it’s over and done with by three minutes. By the end of the second verse Bill Rieflin’s smashing the snare like we’re already reaching a crescendo, but there’s more to give. It turns into such a ferocious barrage of guitars and drums, the only drawback being that this isn’t why you tune into R.E.M.. It’s also surprisingly early in the album for a palate cleansing rocker, as these types of songs often slot in early on side two. All the Best is enjoyable, but perhaps it was a swing and a miss here. Was the song supposed to provoke a conversation, and get people murmuring about the shock end of R.E.M.? If so, it failed, making its importance only relevant in hindsight.

No Matter What

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Release date: 25/12/2002 | Length: 2:55 | Release: 2002 fanclub single | SuE: #254

No matter what you are
I will always be with you

For 2002’s festive fanclub single, the boys treated us to a double dosage of 70s power pop, from Big Star and Badfinger. Despite hailing from Memphis and Swansea respectively, the two groups are not worlds apart in their history. Whilst critical favour was on Big Star’s side from the start, both groups are retrospectively acclaimed and their influence is dotted on many bands of the 80s and 90s, such as Jellyfish, the Replacements, and Teenage Fanclub.

Often christened as the unluckiest rock band in music, even today Badfinger find themselves airbrushed from history. If No Matter What or Baby Blue are new to you, you’d surely know one of Badfinger’s tunes, even in a different form, often credited as a Mariah Carey cover of a Nilsson song, not Badfinger. But listen to Without You in its original form and it does feel incomplete, like the band didn’t have faith in themselves to really launch the song stratospheric. Maybe that’s emblematic of their career, an impressive nucleus of creativity, but without a structure to support it. Any success from their quartet of US top tens was scuppered by fraud and fraught disputes. Manager Stan Polley’s financial unscrupulousness took its toll, leading to singer Pete Ham’s suicide in 1975. Sadly, writer and bassist Tom Evans met the same fate in the 1980s after disagreements over royalties.

Early in their career Badfinger struggled to shake off disparaging comparisons to the Beatles, probably not aided by their first hit being the Paul McCartney-penned Come and Get It, which sounds unmistakably Beatles-esque. Determined to stand on their own two feet, Ham wrote No Matter What, which graced the top ten in the UK, US and Canada. It is, to some, a perfect slice of power pop. It’s unambiguous in its motive, and defined by its close harmonies and sprightly vivace. It’s not exactly rapid, but it does have a briskness to it. At the same time Ham and Evans composed Without You, a song which McCartney described as a “killer song of all time”. The Badfinger identity was born.

Whereas the crisper production of R.E.M.’s cover gives the song a faster pace, it’s a pretty basic, if effective cover. It’s certainly not Michael Stipe signing (he’s brooding faintly in the background, and seems to disappear halfway through), and I’m 80% sure it’s Mike Mills on the mic, but the 20% of doubt lingers purely because he doesn’t sound quite how he does on say Superman or Near Wild Heaven. A comment beneath the YouTube video remarks “This is R.E.M.???”, and they’re not wrong. It sounds like a band covering R.E.M. covering Badfinger.

The line-up for the single is a curious one. Complementing Stipe, Buck and Mills are long-time associate Mitch Easter and Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster. Let’s turn to Easter first, as this marks the producer’s first fresh credit with the band since 1986. Easter mixed, engineered and added guitar to the single, though it remains to be said whether this was for both tracks or just one. Easter’s involvement at first made me think this was an unearthed recording from the early 80s they’d knocked out to fulfil a requirement, but then we’d see Bill Berry credited on percussion instead and besides, the production is far too crisp to be early R.E.M. too.

Jon Wurster would’ve been most known at the time for drumming with indie rock band Superchunk, but to some his later work with the Mountain Goats (all albums since 2008’s Heretic Price) supersedes that. His CV also includes comprehensive work with Bob Mould, Rocket from the Crypt and Jay Farrar, but this was Wurster’s only addition to the R.E.M. fold. He’d recently hooked up with Peter Buck whilst touring with all-star supergroup The Minus 5, so maybe him and Easter found themselves round the R.E.M. studio and fancied a jam? With limited information available about these singles, we must concoct our own lore.

Living Well Is the Best Revenge

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Release date: 31/03/2008 | Length: 3:11 | Release: Accelerate | SuE: #103

All your sad and lost apostles
Hum my name and flare their nostrils

“If we make another bad record, it’s over”, so said the band after the languid Around the Sun. It was important that the next R.E.M. sound people heard was an awakening from this stupor. The time between Around the Sun and Accelerate was their longest between albums, was it well spent? Living Well Is the Best Revenge is a sudden typification of this final phase of R.E.M.: straight-up rock and roll.

Not only did Living Well Is the Best Revenge open their 2008 album, it also opened a large chunk of their gigs around this time. Whether you like it or not, this was a punchy opener. Stipe yells these words at the top of his voice, almost tripping over his lines at points. Mike Mills is the fellow star, his highly-strung bass dancing all over the stage floor, sounding its most impeccable when Buck and Stipe breathe for a moment.

Unusually this is a rare example of Michael Stipe rebuking his critics. Ever since there the late 80s there’d been some quiet barbs thrown R.E.M.’s way, but when you’re continuing to forge your own unique path, why reverse to take down your haranguers? But now, the heat was clearly too much. Accelerate was and will be defined by its reaction to Around the Sun, and Stipe could have some fun taking down those who lambasted him.

The title is a catchy mantra, though not one Stipe coined himself. It’s a quote from Welsh poet George Herbert, though pop punk band Midtown got their first with their identically named 2002 album.

Pretty Persuasion

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Release date: 09/04/1984 | Length: 3:50 | Release: Reckoning | SuE: #14 | US: #44 (Mainstream Rock)

He’s got, pretty persuasion
She’s got, pretty persuasion

If you only had four minutes to figure out if someone would like R.E.M. or not, play them Pretty Persuasion, and you’d have 10 seconds left over to come to a verdict. This is quintessential R.E.M., from the jangly arpeggiated guitar riffs to the weaving dual vocals, and the fact it’s a live favourite committed to tape. There’s certainly a pace to the rest of Reckoning, but this is the best example from the record of a song built to be played live.

This was a late inclusion for Reckoning by all accounts, as the song had already existed for three years by the time the recording of the album came around. Why record a three year old song for your second album, and why this song? Looking at the setlists of 1981 reveals a bounty of unrecorded songs, so what makes Pretty Persuasion so special? Well, it’s catchy as hell isn’t it?

There’s a real frisson all about this song. The drums have the same urgency that Bill Berry brings to Harborcoat, replete with little hi-hat taps. Mike Mills’ bass ascends stylishly in the chorus, and Peter Buck abandons his Byrds-esque jangling for a proper rock riff during the bridge. Oh, and that harmonica too. It’s a real signal that Pretty Persuasion is gonna have some energy.

Some outlets have called this song a critique on consumerism, based on the lyrics from the opening verse: “It’s what I want, Hurry and buy”, but the way Michael Stipe and Mike Mills lock their harmonies together makes the meaning rather negligible. It’s difficult to tell whether they’re singing the same thing, let alone what they’re singing. It’s the chorus that’s sparingly simple:

He’s got pretty persuasion

She’s got pretty persuasion

God damn, your confusion

He’s got pretty persuasion

“Pretty persuasion” was a term that’d been knocking around the R.E.M. offices for a while, having come to Stipe in a dream (not the only time he’d be inspired by the sandman) about photographing the Rolling Stones for their final single. If it’s good enough a song title for the Stones, why not R.E.M.? After a few false starts, it finally made it into this hurtling number, with the phrase alluding to Stipe’s sexuality. Stipe is, in his own words, a queer artist, though despite speculation from journalists during the early 90s, his sexuality has never been at the forefront of R.E.M.’s output. During a live show in 2008, Stipe described this song as reflecting growing up bisexual in the south of America, with the fluid pronouns of the chorus hinting at the allure of all folk. Much like most R.E.M. songs, this is about whatever meaning you attach to it.

Burning Hell

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Release date: 10/06/1985 | Length: 3:49 | Release: Cant Get There from Here | SuE: #170

Women got legs, men got pants

R.E.M. are a rock band, though over the course of 15 albums they’ve been a pop band, a folk band, a glam band, as well as dabbling in other styles to complement their sound. One thing they’ve never credibly been is a metal band. Burning Hell gives a good indication of what they could do did the urge ever compel them.

It’s a clear parody of the hair metal sound that obliterated speakers in the 1980s, complete with sleazy lyrics and a huge snare hit. “Women got legs”. Yeah they do Michael. “Men got pants”. Umm, yeah we do Michael. “I got the picnic if you got the ants”. I’m not sure quite what you mean Michael but yeah right on.

This leather-emblazoned style is notorious for its depiction of women in their lyrics, be it glamourising barely-legal teenagers (“When I see you coming out of school that day, I knew I’ve got to have you”, Kiss, Christine Sixteen) or simply women as a sexual form (“I just need a new toy, I tell you what girl, Dance for me, I’ll keep you over-employed”, Mötley Crüe, Girls, Girls, Girls). A devil’s advocate would argue that these songs are simply that, art forms from which one must take a detached and neutral view towards, but the lack of nuance to metal’s nadir begs to differ.

Stipe’s snarl is an exaggeration of what he sounded like on Fables of the Reconstruction, though whilst Burning Hell was an outtake and tacked onto the 12″ of Cant Get There from Here, the song had been doing the rounds since their debut album. At live shows, Mike Mills’ bass is more prominent, and it’s Peter Buck’s scattergun riffs that occupy the centre on the studio take.

I imagine Burning Hell would’ve been a bit of a hoot live, but it’s no surprise that this wasn’t a particularly enduring b-side and was played no later than 1986. Essential R.E.M. this is not.

Mine Smell Like Honey

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Release date: 18/01/11 | Length: 3:13 | Release: Collapse into Now | SuE:  #211 | UK: -; US: –

If the flowers crack the grain and weave the patterns of the pavement

This isn’t the first R.E.M. song to be smothered in nectar, as Out of Time’s overlooked climax Me in Honey also shimmered in a fine golden glow courtesy of Kate Pierson’s exquisite vocals. Opening the “Y-axis” of Collapse into Now, Mine Smell Like Honey does a decent job of being loud and brash, feeling more like an Accelerate cut with occasional Monster flourishes.

The drum fill that leads straight into a riff is a little too pop-punky for my liking, but this is the period of R.E.M.’s career where they were sounding younger than their years after a career of being sage heads on youthful bodies. Things don’t really unravel until the pre-chorus, where Stipe and Mills trade yelps (much to the enjoyment of Stipe during the live recording) before the catchy refrain kicks in. This is really where Mine Smell Like Honey sells itself, as it does linger in your head longer than a late-era R.E.M. tune should. Mills sounds as good as he’s ever done on backing vocals, weaving himself around Stipe’s voice and creating their trademark overlapping harmonies.

Buck’s guitar in the breakdown has tinges of Monster about it, sounding far murkier than R.E.M. were wont towards the end of their career. The feedback drones on, laced with short, shining licks. Since the band mentioned years after that they’d left little hints on Collapse into Now about their impending split, it’s easy to read too much into the lyrics. “If the end comes faster than we had expected” is the obvious one here, as aside from the poetic floral line quoted above, it’s not the most inspiring.

In 2011 the point of a single is a little insignificant, but for what it’s worth Mine Smell Like Honey did serve as the second single released from Collapse into Now, complete with a confusing stop-motion music video where a group of vested aides help Stipe tumble up a flight of stairs. Does it mean something? Maybe. Does the song warrant a full study to unlock the choreography’s messages? No, sadly it does not.

Maps and Legends

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Release date: 10/06/1985 | Length: 3:10 | Release: Fables of the Reconstruction | SuE: #39

And he sees what you can’t see, can’t you see that?

Fables of the Reconstruction is R.E.M.’s tapestry, an obscurist’s dive into Southern Gothic and the myths that intertwine with real people. Life and How to Live It is loosely based on author Brivs Mekis, and the pairing of Old Man Kensey and Wendell Gee take inspiration from their titular characters. These characters are all detached from R.E.M., but Maps and Legends opts to document a figure who has an association with the band: artist and preacher Howard Finster.

Finster, a prolific painter and sculptor, is linked to R.E.M. in two ways. Firstly, the music video for debut single Radio Free Europe was filmed at Paradise Garden, an area littered with Finster’s objections and creations and is now a public park featuring his work. Secondly, the artwork for sophomore album Reckoning was a collaboration between Stipe and Finster. As you can see from his appearance on the Johnny Carson Show in 1983, he’s quite the character.

The chorus is a reminder (to me) that Fables of the Reconstruction does have beauty and harmonies. The constant preconception I have of this album is it being a difficult record obscured by grey clouds and a muted sound, but the chorus is vintage R.E.M.. Stipe sings with a nonchalant passion, as Mike Mills & co repeat the title of the track. It’s all a bit distracting, but leaves a lovely sound ringing in your ears. There’s also some classic R.E.M. contradictions: “He’s not to be reached, he’s to be reached” (see also Orange Crush).

All this aside, to me much of the album and Maps and Legends are mere embers that spark sporadically and without the vim that their neighbouring records have.

Endgame

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Release date: 08/03/1991 | Length: 3:48 | Release: Out of Time | SuE: #166

This wasn’t the first R.E.M. instrumental, but Endgame was the first to make it to a studio album. Underneath the Bunker from Lifes Rich Pageant was a quasi-instrumental, but being an album of surprises and curveballs, it makes sense that Out of Time witnessed this swansong.

As track five on Out of Time, it feels a little early to get an interlude like this, but it’s nestled between the perkiest songs on the record: Near Wild Heaven and Shiny Happy People. It’s a pedestrian palate cleanser before the sugary delights of what is to come. I call this an interlude, but it’s longer than its neighbours and has the structure of a proper song.

Demoed under the moniker Slow Sad Rocker, it is a little bit droopy. The flugelhorn that drives the second passage adds to this slight feeling of maudlin, but I wouldn’t say Endgame is sad in feeling, just in stature. The chorus is awash with strings and Stipe’s melodica, sounding like the dawning of a sun on the horizon, and then we’re back to the dainty, inquisitive plod of before, like a poignant closing credits sequence.

The horns and strings are provided by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, but it doesn’t sound grand or resplendent like some orchestral additions do. It’s humble, pootling along at its own pace, unmoved by its surroundings.

At My Most Beautiful

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Release date: 08/03/1999 | Length: 3:35 | Release: Up | SuE: #56 | UK: #10

You always say your name
Like I wouldn’t know it’s you

The elephant in the room is that this is a Beach Boys song. The Beach Boys’ organic and original sound is utterly woven into the fabric of music, and it’s difficult to think of a band who haven’t attempted their own pastiche. It was pop at heart, but outside of the constraints of what you’d expect from fenced-off genres.

In the 1990s, bands like Mercury Rev, The Flaming Lips and XTC had experimented with a lush orchestral sound that had a spiritual connection to California’s finest, but took this feeling and made it their own. R.E.M. however decided to screw forging their own path, and instead made one of the most transparent homages to the Beach Boys committed to wax.

It’s true that after the loss of drummer Bill Berry, R.E.M. were at a bit of a quandary. Up is an album of mixed ideas and directions, capable of some of their greatest ideas but also some of their tamest hits. It’s no surprise then that when searching in vain for their own texture, their biggest success from the album was explicitly riding off someone else’s shine.

This love ballad is pure, a rare instance of an R.E.M. love song that isn’t tainted by some underlying jealousy or complex feelings. The banal ways in which the narrator shows their love is touching: “I save your messages, Just to hear your voice”. This isn’t a showy song, this is a song that showcases the tiny unsaid flourishes that keeps love ticking.

There’s no dramatic shift from the fairly anodyne verse to the moving chorus, but it’s sometimes subtleties that elevate mediocrity into magic. Those cheeky “do dos” from Mike Mills, the big drum fills from Peter Buck, that organ layer. For there to be a pay off in the chorus there had to be some give earlier on, otherwise this smorgasbord of instruments wouldn’t have the same effect.

R.E.M. got away with this because ultimately At My Most Beautiful is a good song, and this deep into their career they had enough credit in the bank to pull off such a brazen mimicry. The cynic in me says that this was a roll of the dice for a band struggling with their identity, but listen to that chorus bloom and you no longer care.

Accelerate

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Release date: 31/03/2008 | Length: 3:33 | Release: Accelerate | SuE: #155

Uncertainty is suffocating

Look at this, it’s an R.E.M. title track! Rarer than hen’s teeth, Accelerate is only the second time R.E.M. have committed to this convention, and comes out miles ahead of Around the Sun‘s eponymous number. Once it…*ahem*…accelerates up to speed, Accelerate never really slows down. The verses flow seamlessly into the chorus, reflecting the non-stop nature of both the band’s career and also the pace of life.

As a unit the song isn’t too memorable, though individually each band member does their bit. Michael Stipe sounds replenished and hasty, Mike Mills glides in the verses, and Peter Buck scribbles his guitar all over the chorus, joined by Bill Rieflin with an impatient hi-hat beat. But sometimes despite all the ingredients doing their bit, the cake still comes out a little plain. It may have a constant pace, but it’s a rather pedestrian one compared to the raucousness of Horse to Water, and lacks the fizz of Supernatural Superserious.

Accelerate isn’t at the top of the pile when it comes to tracks from the album, but nor is it at the bottom. Instead, it sits snugly in the middle, safely tucked away from any excitement. Sadly, R.E.M. have never thrived when snug or safe.