Up was R.E.M.’s first album without Bill Berry, and it was almost their last. The sudden recalibration of creative and professional dynamics that had been established over the course of 17 years was almost too high a hurdle to overcome, and that uncertainty and gloominess certainly makes its way onto these 14 tracks. Filled with drum machines, sound loops and droning effects, it’s not an album that leaps out at you. In truth, my first few times through Up were a difficult process. The musical richness and emotional strength I had come to expect from the band were hard to find.
With time, I think I was able to put what I was expecting out of my head and listen to what was actually on the record, and gradually my opinion shifted. I still find the opening track, “Airportman,” fairly dull and uninteresting, and I’m less than crazy about number three, “Suspicion.” Song number four, “Hope,” is where things really start to pique my interest. Michael Stipe takes the vocal melody of a Leonard Cohen song and imposes it over a sequence of synthesizer loops, as he sings of someone hoping for something to believe in. Now, I am normally quite reluctant to try to provide any kind of literal interpretation of Stipe’s lyrics outside the context of a song; that way lies madness. But I first heard the lines “And you’re questioning the sciences and you’re questioning religion” at a point in my graduate studies where I was doing exactly that, so this song was quite a useful reference point. I do think that this album features some of Stipe’s strongest lyric writing in the band’s history, even as those lyrics rely heavily on the musical support offered by Mike Mills and Peter Buck. Many of the songs on this album are more direct than usual for R.E.M., and Up includes the full lyrics to every song on the album for the first time, so those who do want to brave the interpretative woods will find a few useful trail markers.
When Stipe writes a love song, he usually inserts some kind of cynical twist; I haven’t been able to find it in “At My Most Beautiful,” a Beach Boys-inspired song built around Mills’ piano and backup vocals. The momentary sunniness is quickly dispelled with the next track, “The Apologist.” The song’s protagonist is a member of a self-help group who gradually becomes more and more aggressive with his apparent humility and contrition, and the music captures that building tension perfectly. The rest of the album explores that darkness in different guises, such as the nocturnal desk jockey of “Daysleeper,” the drunk “Sad Professor” who hates how he’s wound up, and the criminal defendant who wants to convince a jury that he’s “Diminished.” The darkness is not quite unrelenting; “Walk Unafraid” is a rousing celebration of individuality with all its attendant mistakes, and Stipe takes a moment to ask someone who’s “been sad for a while,” “Why Not Smile?” The closing track, “Falls To Climb,” encapsulates the conflict; Stipe argues that “someone has to take the fall,” and decides, “Why not me?” In making that decision, he finally declares, “I am free.” It’s a fairly triumphant rebirth, and one that signals that R.E.M. is not quite finished yet.
- Airportman (4:13)
- Lotus (4:31)
- Suspicion (5:37)
- Hope (5:01)
- At My Most Beautiful (3:35)
- The Apologist (4:29)
- Sad Professor (4:03)
- You’re In The Air (5:23)
- Walk Unafraid (4:33)
- Why Not Smile (4:02)
- Daysleeper (3:39)
- Diminished (6:00)
- Parakeet (4:12)
- Falls To Climb (5:06)
Released by: Warner Bros.
Release date: 1998
Total running time: 64:31
