REM's Automatic for the People turns 30

As I noted last year, when we reached the 30th anniversary of REM's Out of Time, the relentless onward march of linear time continues to remind us of its inevitability with Automatic for the People now hitting the same milestone.

This time around, the lengthy thinkpieces and flashbacks to the album's release are considerably less surprising: Automatic for the People is REM's most commercially successful album, their best-known record, contains most of their famous singles that aren't "Losing My Religion," and probably their most critically acclaimed, although with a back catalogue as storied as theirs, that's debatable.

As noted previously, REM spent the 1980s gradually elevating themselves from a cult local band from Athens, Georgia into a relatively well-known alt-rock unit. Through six albums they grew their craft and their success fairly modestly. They then went ballistic with Out of Time, released in early 1991 and propelled by the mega-hit "Losing My Religion," which they followed up on (not entirely without later regret) with the cheesy children's anthem "Shiny Happy People." Out of Time also generated a further two hit singles ("Near Wild Heaven" and "Radio Song").

The album's sales were stratospheric, but the band had already decided not to tour it, having spent almost the entirety of the 1980s either touring or in the studio. With the record in the bag, the band could have taken a break. Drummer Bill Berry in particular had been developing early ideas for the next album and said he wanted the next album to "rock out," and there seemed to be a general agreement that the next album would be heavier, or at least more like their earlier, rockier material.

Despite completing Out of the Time, the band continued on their creative streak, bringing instruments to the mixing sessions and filling in time between songs by jamming or playing one another ideas. Early demos for "Drive," "Try Not to Breathe" and "Nightswimming" were recorded. Work on the album started in earnest only three months after Out of Time went on sale, with Berry, guitarist Peter Buck and bassist Mike Mills swapping instruments and playing without drums to try to stimulate fresh ideas. Eventually they recorded around thirty songs, including several faster-paced ones they thought might form the core of the album. Instead, they agreed they didn't really fit in with the rest of the material and Berry agreed to suspend his objections since some of the other tracks seemed to have much more potential.

To avoid the writing problems on Out of Time, where vocalist Michael Stipe hit the wall of writer's block and gave two tracks to Mills to write lyrics for and even just winged another song on the spot ("Country Feedback"), the band completed the demos to a high standard and gave them to Stipe to create lyrics for without the harsh deadline of having to be in the studio so soon afterwards. Stipe had several months to craft lyrics for most of the tracks. The final recording of the album took place from March to July 1992 in fairly relaxed circumstances. The band were excited when Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones joined the sessions to create string arrangements, as opposed to the previous record where the strings were arranged more ad-hoc in the studio.

Warner Brothers were apparently surprised when the band presented them with the record, feeling it was somewhat downbeat and not as poppy as Out of Time. However, aware that they'd completely misjudged the commercial potential of "Losing My Religion," they went with the band's judgement again, even the odd choice of "Drive" as the lead single. They were rewarded with excellent reviews and soaring sales. REM's strategy of releasing increasingly great singles from the record kept the album selling and selling continuously: "Man on the Moon," and "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite" brought in the pop crowd, whilst arguable album signature song "Everybody Hurts," was an acoustic masterpiece, helped by a memorable video. "Nightswimming" and "Find the River" founded off the releases, the last of which coming out almost 14 months after the album itself.

However, the album's lineup was so strong that every track (bar a mid-record instrumental) could have been a single: "Ignoreland" somehow charted despite being only independently available as a promo track sent to radio stations, and in another other world, "Try Not to Breathe," "Sweetness Follows," and "Monty Got a Raw Deal" could have been hit singles, and "Star Me Kitten" was apparently briefly considered for release until it was pointed out the chorus had a swear word (the band had actually retitled the song " * Me Kitten," in return to concerns over publishing the word could have stopped the album being sold in some shops).

The record's title, famously, comes from the motto of Athens restaurant Weaver D's Delicious Fine Foods (who had just been robbed when Stipe asked them for permission to use the sign in return for a licencing fee), whilst the cover art shows the logo of the Sinbad Motel in Miami.

The album enjoyed staggering success, exceeding that of even Out of Time. The record sold almost 2 million copies in the US in 1992 alone and the album has sold far more than 20 million copies in the thirty years it's been available. The band again declined to tour for the album, instead moving in early 1993 to the recording of its follow-up, Monster, the much-promised "rock album." However, the resulting monster (ahem) tour was a celebration of all three albums, since the band had not toured for almost five years by that point.

Automatic for the People is an at-times maudlin reflection on relationships, death and politics, but it's also a melancholy, tuneful masterpiece of nostalgia and reflection.

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REM's Out of Time turns 30

In another reminder of the relentless onward march of linear time, the REM album Out of Time has somehow turned thirty years old, sparking lots of nostalgic reminiscence.

The lengthy thinkpieces and flashbacks to the album are perhaps surprising: Out of Time is neither REM's best album, nor their most successful, nor their most critically acclaimed. It is, however, often cited as Ground Zero for REM's ascent into absolute mega-stardom and features arguably their two best-known singles (one a candidate for their best, one a candidate for their most whimsical).

REM was founded in Athens, Georgia in 1980 and comprised vocalist Michael Stipe, bassist Mike Mills, guitarist Peter Buck and drummer Bill Berry. Between 1983 and 1988 they released six albums, almost all critically acclaimed and each being rewarded with growing sales: Murmur, Reckoning, Fables of the Reconstruction, Lifes Rich Pageant, Document and Green. The band spent almost that entire time on the road, extensively touring each album (internationally from the third onwards) before hurling themselves back into the studio for a condensed session and then a new tour in support of the next record. One of the hardest-working bands of the 1980s, they finally called a time out after the Green tour concluded.

The three-year gap between records concerned their new label, Warner Brothers, who'd signed the band for a reported $12 million in 1988 for a five-album deal. However, the gap was somewhat shorter than it first appeared. The Green tour didn't end until well into 1989 and the band began work on the follow-up in September 1990, leaving only a single year of rest and relaxation between.

The gap year turned into more of a busman's holiday for Peter Buck, though, who decided to expand his musical repertoire by experimenting with more acoustic string instruments. He bought a mandolin, played a few basic chords, spontaneously wrote the opening riff to one of the biggest rock songs of all time, and then immediately forgot about it. The course of REM's history might have been rather different if he hadn't fortuitously recorded his strumming and played it back the next day.

Out of Time is a record that is aptly-named, for it's possibly REM's most diverse album in terms of style and influence whilst also retaining a core dedication to being a pop record. The basic theme going into the session was that the band wanted a "less political" cut than Document and Green, which had both been informed by concerns over American politics, the Cold War and environmentalism. Stipe promised a record of "love songs, nothing but love songs," although in truth he'd barely written any lyrics at all and had a rare bout of writer's block which completely stopped him working on three of the tracks. The band also decided to embrace humour, after the success of the somewhat silly and comedic single "Stand" on Green, and also collaboration, asking friends and professional contacts to help out on the record.

The record opens with the decidedly goofy "Radio Song," echoing its predecessor Green which opened with "Pop Song '89." A comical song about selling out and the mass commercialisation of music, the band brought in rapper KRS-One (best known for his monster track "Sound of da Police") to provide wry commentary over the track. REM's hardcore OG fanbase, who'd been increasingly sceptical over the band's growing popularity, were left bemused. Their hopes this might be the album's goofiest moment were decidedly disappointed a few tracks later.

The second track, of course, is "Losing My Religion," the greatest rock anthem in human history propelled by a mandolin. The record company furiously tried to get the band to change their mind about releasing it as the lead single but eventually admitted defeat, and were completely unprepared for the reaction. The Gabriel Garcia Marquez-influenced video (directed by Tarsem Singh, the first person to ever get Michael Stipe to agree to lip-synch) lodged into permanent rotation on MTV and the song exploded everywhere, scoring them their first US Top Ten single and hitting the #1 spot in countries like Belgium, the Netherlands and Poland. Weirdly, it didn't do very well in the UK, only peaking at #19.

The record settles down a bit with "Low," fittingly the album's darkest moment, a sombre minimalist anthem with a powerful chorus, before perking up again with "Near Wild Heaven," a refreshingly breezy pop song. Stipe hit a brick wall with the lyrics, giving up entirely, so Mike Mills crafted a lyric which worked. Stipe insisted that Mills sing lead with him supporting, their normal roles inverted, and the results so pleased the record company that they released the track as the third single from the album, marking the only original song ever released by the band with Stipe not singing lead (Mills had previously led the "Superman" cover from Lifes Rich Pageant, surprise-released as a single over Stipe's objections).

After an instrumental break for "Endgame", the album picks back up with an avalanche of dramatic strings that promptly explodes into "Shiny Happy People." Stipe had written the song specifically for eight-year-old children and as a fun collaboration with his friend Kate Pierson from fellow Athens band the B-52s. The band enjoyed recording the song, but when the song was picked as the second single from the album and a "quirky" comedy video was shot for it, they quickly found themselves getting sick of the song. Stipe later said he didn't like the song - refusing to sing it during a guest spot on an animated kids' show - and the band infamously never performed it live aside from a single talk show appearance and a guest spot on Sesame Street, and even then changed the lyrics to make it technically a different song. But it's hard to resist the song's infectious energy. REM had a bit of a reputation as a moody art band without a sense of humour on earlier records and Out of Time did a good job of demolishing that by showing their funnier side...even if maybe the song did teeter on the edge of being a corn supernova.

The back half of the record is less contentious, with "Belong" featuring a surprising semi-spoken-word lyric by Stipe and "Half a World Away" and "Me in Honey" (again featuring Pierson) being the kind of excellent, semi-acoustic pop songs that REM could turn out in their sleep by this point. But the back end of the album does feature two of REM's best and most underrated tracks: "Texarkana" is the album's rockiest number, propelled by an explosive bass riff and pounding drums. Surprisingly, it's the second track on the album written by the normally laidback Mike Mills, again with Stipe having bailed on the lyric due to writer's block.

"Country Feedback" is maybe the album's absolute masterpiece of a song. Stipe again rolled into the studio without any lyrics to hand but, perhaps a bit embarrassed by how many times he'd done this, he decided to wing it and sang lyrics he'd made up on the spot. The band decided they'd nailed it in one take and never revisited the song, or apparently even wrote the lyrics down, perhaps explaining why Stipe's live performances of the track tend to feature lyrics that are all over the place. John Keane's pedal steel guitar adds a decidedly different air to the song quite unlike any other REM track (BJ Cole replicated and improved on the sound for European tours in the late 1990s). More than once, Stipe has said it's his favourite REM song, and it was used as the centrepiece of a BBC live special about the band in 1998.

In the REM canon, you can really judge their career as Before Out of Time and After Out of Time, and perhaps more specifically Before "Losing My Religion" and After. Before this album and that song, they were a moderately successful, cult indie guitar band from Georgia who'd scored a number of minor radio songs and British music fans name-dropped to prove they were "with it." Afterwards, they were the Voice of a Generation, the American national flag-bearers of alternative rock (whatever the hell that is; we in the UK never quite figured it out) and MTV-dominating acoustic demigods who rubbed shoulders with world leaders, led by an enigmatic, ambiguous and charismatic frontman. A lot of their old fans who'd been with them since debut single "Radio Free Europe" and their first album, Murmur, felt left behind; others rejoiced that the whole world now seemed to be in on the best-kept secret in rock.

To the utter horror of Warner Brothers, REM decided they would not tour Out of Time. Fortunately, this being 1991, it was possible to make money from actual record sales and as the sales went stratospheric - Out of Time sold 10 million copies in its first year on sale, completely eclipsing their combined back catalogue sales to that point (which also started shooting up as more people discovered them) - Warner Brothers found the dollars pouring in faster than they could count. REM also decided that rather than have a break, they'd head back into the studio to make another record, one that would be rockier and more stadium-filling than their previous one. Instead, they made an album that was much more introspective, more claustrophobic and even darker than Out of Time, which again made the record company apprehensive. Fortunately, that record was called Automatic for the People and it ended up being twice as successful even as Out of Time, so that worked out for everyone involved.

Out of Time is a record of breezy pop songs, heartfelt emotion and perhaps a bit more cheese than the band would have wished to invoke. It's one of the band's two "summery" albums (the other being 2001's underrated Reveal) which is just great fun to whack on a sunny afternoon. It also marks the start of the band's "imperial period," when everything they touched turned to gold and would last for at least four albums afterwards. It was Out of Time but very much of its place.

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Gratuitous Lists: Seven Great Albums

There's a thing going round asking people to list their seven favourite/most important albums of all time (to them). So here's mine:

R.E.M.
Automatic for the People
1992

Tracklisting: Drive • Try Not to Breathe • The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite • Everybody Hurts • New Orleans Instrumental No. 1 • Sweetness Follows • Monty Got a Raw Deal • Ignoreland • Star Me Kitten • Man on the Moon • Nightswimming • Find the River

Although they'd been knocking around since 1981, ceaselessly touring and releasing multiple critically-acclaimed albums, it was REM's seventh LP, Out of Time, that finally catapulted them to superstardom. Fronted by the monster hits "Losing My Religion" and "Shiny Happy People", the record propelled the band to ubiquitous status, to both the band's pleasure but discomfort. Although grateful for the financial security afforded by their success, the band were wary of becoming "radio-friendly unit-shifters" and low-key rebelled. They refused to tour Out of Time and went straight back into the studio to rush-record a follow up.

Drummer Bill Berry insisted that the record had to rock hard and the rest of the band initially agreed, but both music and lyrics instead went very stripped-back, bare and acoustic. After the expansive Out of Time, Automatic for the People (named after the motto of a local restaurant, Weaver D's Delicious Fine Foods: "It's automatic, people!") was introverted, moody and - mostly - quiet. The band were confident that they'd made an album that would not repeat the monster success of its forebear, especially in a music industry now dominated by grunge (Michael Stipe gladly handing over the "spokesman of a generation" mantle to his friend Kurt Cobain).

Instead, the record utterly eclipsed it (to the tune of just under 20 million copies sold by itself). "Everybody Hurts" became the melancholic anthem of the year and the album generated a further five singles, although frankly every song on the album could be a single bar the instrumental. It's kind of cool now to disdain Automatic a little and instead opt for Murmur, Document or New Adventures in Hi-Fi as REM's top album, but that ignores the album's irrepressible atmosphere which mixes hope and melancholy, love and hate, and politics and emotion.

MORE AFTER THE BREAK

REM call it a day

American rock band (or 'alternative rock band' in Americanese) REM announced today that they were splitting up after 31 years of making music. This news was surprising, since it feels like a very old-fashioned thing for a band to do. It's more common now for bands to take half-decades off or simply keep soldiering on like the Rolling Stones. It's also quite brave: announcing that you are splitting up only to get back together a few years later always feels rather lame. Generally speaking, these days bands only split when, for example, one member of the band tries to (allegedly) attack another with a guitar to the face.


But back to REM. My years as a teenager coincided with REM's first eruption as global superstars in the early 1990s (I was 13 when Automatic for the People was released, though I didn't get into the band until a couple of years later), so they were pretty hard to ignore. Their oddball mix of acoustic melancholia and occasionally-satisfying rock-out moments was highly appealing, and I lapped up most of their albums in this period. Automatic and Document are two of my favourite albums of all time, and I highly rate Fables of the Reconstruction, Murmur, Out of Time, Green and New Adventures in Hi-Fi. Monster was probably a bit of a misstep (for albums that bring the rock, there are much more impressive mid-90s alternatives, though some tracks are very good) but I found Up to be an interesting experiment with changing their sound and bringing in new elements in the wake of drummer Bill Berry's departure. Reveal was, for me, a storming return to their normal melodic form, but Around the Sun was flat-out terrible, a low point that they recovered from with enthusiasm with the fast-paced Accelerate. Their latest - and now last - album has gotten enough mixed reviews that I haven't tried it yet, though now I think I will give it a go for old time's sake.

Sadly, I only got to see REM play live once, in July 2005 at Hyde Park in London. It was the end of their huge Around the Sun tour and they were clearly tired. But, just a week after the 07/07 bombings in London (and, though of course we didn't know it at the time, a week before a second attempted bombing attack on the city) when people were feeling a bit down, REM did a great job of getting people up and moving. Most surprising was when, instead of plumping for a cheap, sentimental and obvious rendition of 'Everybody Hurts' as a lesser band would have, they turned it up into an angry burst of guitar-driven defiance that was counter-intuitive and worked brilliantly.

So farewell to REM. Good on them for knowing when to quit, and if they decide to reform in ten years' time for another tour I won't hold it against them too much :-)

Here's a live performance of 'Country Feedback' from the Jools Holland Show in 1998 (later included as a B-side to the UK release of 'At My Most Beautiful'), featuring legendary steel pedal guitarist BJ Cole as well as core bandmembers Michael Stipe, Mike Mills and Peter Buck: