Musical Martyrs - The Vilified Albums - REM - New Adventures in Hi-Fi

Without knowing me, REM did me a favor during their performance at the Greek Theater in Berkeley in June of 2008.  When Mike Mills' fingers first hit the piano, I’m sure most of the audience thought they were hearing “Night Swimming”, but instead the band transitioned into “Electrolite”, the last track on New Adventures in Hi-Fi, their 1996 release which is not on the list of favorite REM albums of anyone I know.   It made me remember that I had never listened much to that album, so I put the CD in my car and listened to it every day to and from work.   For four months.

 I suspect that many REM followers did what I did when New Adventures first came out.  Unimpressed by the dull , trite title, I listened to the first track, “How the West Won and Where It Got Us,” and thought, “Interesting, but doesn’t get my blood flowing the way that ‘Radio Free Europe’, ‘Begin the Begin’, ‘Finest Worksong’, ‘Radio Song’, or even ‘What’s the Frequency, Kenneth’ did to start other great albums,” and I never invested myself in the rest of the album.

Enormous, huge mistake.  After the articulate, contemplative opening track strikes its abrupt final chord, Michael Stipe hits full force with “The Wake-Up Bomb”, a seething first-person portrayal of a power-mongering idiot, and with that begins the most powerful five-song sequence on any REM album, and arguably any album ever.  After the nauseating protagonist in “Bomb” throws up at the sight of what he’s done (did Reagan or Bush ever do that?), Stipe becomes a simpleton contemplating Jesus in “New Test Leper”, a reflection which segues elegantly to the ocean, where we surrender, if we allow it to draw us in, to “Undertow”.

Before “Undertow”, the only song that ever really scared the shit out of me was The Replacements’ “The Ledge”, off their 1987 “Pleased to Meet Me”, in which Paul Westerberg dares us to stop him from jumping in a harrowing drama that ends with him taking the leap.  In “Undertow”, Michael Stipe is drowning, matter-of-factly, facing his fate head on, and it’s friggin’ terrifying.  Peter Buck’s guitar crashes over Mike Mills' undulated base tones to create the deadly waves, and the scene ends with Buck's reverberating nerve-rattling ripple effects.

Not done, Stipe then goes for the jugular with “E-Bow the Letter”, the rock equivalent of a William Faulkner novel.  Stipe uncorks a rambling stream-of-consciousness letter to a woman who has left him a shipwrecked shell of a man.  Patty Smith’s haunting soul-splitting back-up lyrics by themselves would justify putting her in the rock-and-roll hall of fame.  REM has recorded some devastating songs; “Country Feedback” and “Let Me In” come immediately to mind, but “E-Bow” is as good as any of them.

Drummer Bill Berry takes over on the next track, “Leave”.   He leads us in with a simple one-minute acoustic riff, and then, after a moment silence, launches a synthesizer sequence packing the power of a helicopter propeller while Buck takes over the initial riff on the electric guitar.  It’s a mind-blowing combination, and Stipe’s lyrics are just powerful enough to stand up and complete the track.

The brilliance dims after that, but only slightly.  “Departure” is a travel itinerary on crank, while “Bittersweet Me” is another indication that Michael was working out some serious relationship issues in the studio.  “Be Mine” and “Zither” are both fine examples of REM’s quirky whimsies, between which “Binky the Doormat” (one of the great song titles ever) portrays a high-society loser.  “So Fast, So Numb” is a so-urgent so-desperate attempt to save a relationship, and “Low Desert” narrates a remote incident with the harsh sharp lines of an Edward Hopper painting.

That leads us back to “Electrolite”.  Anyone who imagines, “I’m Jimmy Dean, I’m Steve McQueen”, and wants the fitting conclusion to that date you’ve been trying to get forever, should whip this out end of the evening.  “You are the star tonight, the sun electric out of sight, your light eclipsed the moon tonight.  Electrolite.  You’re out of sight.”  A perfect closure to one of the best works from one of the supergroups of our, or any, generation.  I'm sure there are many who figured this out 14 years ago, but if you put New Adventures in Hi-Fi away, listen to it again.  And again.  It's a ride worth taking.


-- Birdman



Buy here: New Adventures in Hi-Fi