R.E.M., Up (WB) 9
Here's a thought to make you feel real old -- R.E.M. have been together for 18 years. They are now at the same point in their career as when The Rolling Stones released Tattoo You in 1981. That, of course, was the Stones' last decent record. Maybe it's because R.E.M. has so far only released a fraction of the classics the Stones had, or maybe it's just the promise that Up holds, but I think they'll be releasing great records years down the road, while other equally canonized bands are mere parodies of themselves. As a fairweather R.E.M. fan, I'm the first the kick 'em when they're down. With Out of Time and New Adventures in Hi-Fi, R.E.M. have shown that they can excrete some of the worst over-commercialized maudlin butt-wipe ever. With Monster they proved that they are incapable of properly rocking out even if a gun is held to their collective head. Even the lackluster second side of Document gave early hints of that. Their real strengths became apparant in Green's folky ballads "You Are The Everything" and "Hairshirt." They took that melancholy vibe and ran with it, hitting paydirt with the consistent Automatic for the People. And while that album veered uncomfortably close to cheese with the insipid "Everybody Hurts," Up updates it for the hip, ironic late-90s, complete with electronica bleeps. While Beck's drum monkey guru Joey Waronker helps out on a couple songs, they do not try to replace Bill Berry's big beats. They've come to terms with no longer being rockers and instead chose to seduce you with the beauty of heartache.
