For the first time since the departure of drummer Bill Berry a decade ago, R.E.M. buckles up and blasts off like the rock troupe it was before its founding lineup was whittled to a trio.
Not that the music of the post-Berry age has been without charm. The Beach Boys surrealism of 1998’s Up still makes for a regal, reflective listen. But by the time the ultra woozy Around the Sun was released four years ago in the midst of a heated presidential campaign that Michael Stipe and company put their very visible two cents in on, R.E.M. had settled into a second career as low-tech somnambulists. It was cool to have R.E.M. sound down on Up. But after three albums of elder pop reserve, it was time to light a fire under these guys.
Thus we have Accelerate, the most seriously rock inclined album from R.E.M. since Monster in 1994. And, in all honesty, Accelerate is far stronger.
The most immediate and obvious step forward into regaining the band’s rock ‘n’ roll attitude is in the drum department. Since Berry’s departure, R.E.M. carried on mostly by junking drums altogether in favorite of click tracks and cheesy synthesized beats. The move was maddening considering they had recruited Seattle drummer Bill Rieflin, one of the most progressive percussive forces on the planet (the guy jams with members of King Crimson, for crying out loud) for touring purposes. Accelerate marks the first time Rieflin has been allowed to seriously open up on a R.E.M. studio record. And the difference he makes is considerable.
The album-opening Living Well is the Best Revenge stares the Bush-era in the face with the merry cowpunk guitars of Peter Buck and Scott McCaughey, a stormy shuffle kicked into motion by Rieflin and a truly agitated Stipe who spits motormouth verses of Graham Parker-style venom that enforce R.E.M’s bold new take on its older sound. It also serves as a call of faith to the generation that felt defeated in 2004. “History will set us free,” Stipe shouts over the earthy grind. “The future is ours.”
Similarly empowering is Horse to Water, two of the mightiest minutes R.E.M. has put down on a studio record. Rieflin counts off the drive like the band was playing in a garage, Buck answers with a guitar whine that sounds positively punkish and Stipe rants about he times he could have caved in but didn’t (”I could have my head kept down, I might have kept my mouth shut”).
Both songs also reawaken R.E.M.’s secret weapon: bassist Mike Mills. As a backup vocalist, Mills hits an upper register that doesn’t really glow unless Stipe is in a serious barking mood. Here, it does because he is. Admittedly, Mills could have been brought up a little in the mix. But whether singing wild harmony (on the surrealist march Man Sized Wreath) or providing a more direct vocal counterpoint (in the power-pop single Supernatural Superserious), Mills is as responsible as anyone in R.E.M. for its return to true electric form.
Accelerate purposely downshifts for moody snapshots of metropolitan Armageddon (Sing for the Submarine) and more self-contained strife (Hollow Man). And with a modest running length (11 songs in 35 minutes), the album is over by the time its recharged fury sinks in. But such are the fortunes of a band that so completely roars back to life.
I am a native Kentuckian and freelance journalist who has been writing about contemporary music for the Lexington Herald-Leader since 1980. I have not a lick of honest musical talent myself, just a pair of appreciative ears for jazz, folk, blues, bluegrass, Americana, soul, Celtic, Cajun, chamber, worldbeat, nearly every form of rock 'n' roll imaginable and, when pressed, the occasional tango and polka.