With Collapse Into Now, R.E.M. stumbles into the past

It’s always dicey business accusing a band of sounding like its earlier self. What exactly, one might reasonably ask, should a band sound like? While some bands continue to evolve and explore sounds with some ear-anchoring through lines to keep listeners grounded, others continue to mine the same territory with diminishing returns.

R.E.M. has taken both paths in its three-decade career. For the first half of its life, the band continued to strive for new sounds. It was never difficult to hear that it was R.E.M. – after all, no one sings like Michael Stipe – but these twists and turns were occasionally exciting and never dull.

But once that exploration failed to yield the desired results – I’ll point to the vapid but beautiful Reveal, the supermodel of R.E.M.’s back catalog, as the starting point – the band began to retrench. That was seen as a welcome return on Accelerate, as the band of fifty-somethings rocked like their thirty-something selves with songs that seemed as much homage to the past as attempts to populate new territory.

On the new Collapse Into Now, the band continues this path, with some initially pleasing but ultimately troubling results. It sounds good on first listen; great in spots. But that’s because it’s as if the band cut up its best bits, tossed the pieces of tape into the air and then assembled an album from the disparate segments. It’s the same reason we like the occasional new Rolling Stones song – what’s not to love about yet another blast of those Keith Richards’ riffs? Then you realize you’ve heard it all before and would rather go back to the source.

Given that, R.E.M. is in a damned-if-they-do spot at this point in its career. Try too hard to do something new and the band will be accused of attempting a hipness transfusion (at a time when hip replacement is more likely). Maintain the old sound and they’ll be slagged for being mired in the past. Accelerate ultimately transcended both arguments by injecting so much youthful energy in the band’s look back that the members were able to successful walk the tightrope between them.

On Collapse Into Now, they again echo the past, but without that same verve. This is a more studied attempt at capturing the past, and as such, it never takes off the way Accelerate did. I wrote a similarly negative review of that album before spending much of the year with it in my CD player, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this follows a similar path. But I’ll expect neither album to merit a place in the band’s canon in the long run,

1. Discoverer – When I first heard this, it felt flat and without hooks, an R.E.M. pastiche without punch. After a few listens, however, the hooks revealed themselves. All it took was that transition from the verse to the chorus, driven by the drums and Peter Buck’s chunky riffs. It’s not a great song, but it’s a good lead-off in the same way “Begin the Begin” was 25 years ago, setting a take-no-prisoners tone. It’s too bad that isn’t maintained throughout the album, but this song is a grower worth repeat spins. And credit for lifting an interesting sound for that opening guitar line. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded of Gordon Lightfoot’s “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

2. All the Best – If this isn’t a leftover from Accelerate, I’ll be surprised. It has the same feel, perhaps with a bit more of the glammy feel of Monster. Pretty unremarkable.

3. Uberlin – The first direct reference to the past with what feels like a pretty obvious younger cousin to “Drive” – it’s a bit peppier and has a faster beat, but it’s there. Stipe seems to acknowledge as much in the first verse, with “crash land no illusions” to rival “smack crack bushwhacked” from the earlier song, speak-sung in the same cadence. That said, it has a more reliable melody than its predecessor and ultimately stands on its own.

4. Oh My Heart – Another song that feels like an Accelerate outtake, another post-Katrina lament to rival that album’s “Houston.” Stipe again directly references the previous song lyrically, responding to “if the storm doesn’t kill me the government will” with “the storm didn’t kill me, the government changed.” It’s a beautiful song with a soaring, heartbreaking chorus, and is the first true standout on the album.

5. It Happened Today – Yet another song that seems to recall past work. In this case, it feels like a sped-up “New Test Leper.” And yes, again you can draw lyrical comparisons, with mentions of Bible stories here to rival the Jesus-centric lyric of the earlier track. There are some nice wordless harmonies between Stipe and Mills (Mills’ rehabilitation on Accelerate seems to have taken root, as his vocals are prominent once again). More than half of the song is given over to this, and it puts a smile on the face of a long-time fan. The song doesn’t have much more than that going for it, but it’s enough in the short term. Oh, and Eddie Vedder is apparently on here, but I’m hard pressed to hear it.

6. Every Day Is Yours to Win – A lullaby of sorts that is the first song on the album that doesn’t sound like R.E.M. 2.0 trying to sound like R.E.M. 1.0. I’ll give them credit for trying something new (ish… this wouldn’t have sounded too out of place on Up), but it’s a fairly slight track that could have used a more adventurous Stipe vocal to combat the rudimentary music-box backing track.

7. Mine Smells Like Honey – Do record company executives still snarl behind a soggy stogie and growl, “I don’t hear a hit… get back in the studio!”? If they do, this is the kind of song R.E.M. would cut in response. Like the product of a generic R.E.M. song generator set to “rock,” the song has those big guitar chords, a deadpan Stipe verse and a soaring chorus. The saving grace: Mills’ backing vocals, which are heavenly. Sticking point: I don’t want to know what smells like honey, and have a hard time not thinking about that every time this song plays.

8. Walk It Back – Another ballad that is perfectly pleasant and yet something I could live the rest of my life without hearing again. This kind of undistinguished filler is what dragged down the band’s worst album, Around the Sun, and it does nothing to elevate this album. In fact, it’s the beginning of a long slow slide on what would be the album’s second side if we demarcated things like that anymore.

9. Alligator Aviator Autopilot Antimatter – I never thought I’d write this, but Peaches is the best thing on this track. R.E.M. can do big, dumb and stupid with the best of them, but in the past that manifested itself as “Superman” or “Strange” (maybe they can only do big, dumb and stupid when it’s someone else’s big, dumb and stupid). Harking back to the dreck of “I’m Gonna DJ,” the band allows Stipe to take a bludgeoning riff of a song and actually make it worse.

10. That Someone is You – I’ve long advocated for the band to go back and re-record more of its first batch of songs (from which tracks like “All the Right Friends” were culled). They seem to have taken the spirit of the idea to heart, if not its intent. The band could have played this punchy number at Tyrone’s in 1981 without anyone batting an eye. It’s a fuzzy blast of nothing that ends up being one of the best songs on the album because it’s among the few where the intent and the execution are perfectly in synch, and it points out all that is wrong with the over-bearing track that precedes it.

11. Me, Marlon Brando, Marlon Brando and I – Awful title aside, the song has appeal, but it’s elusive. I suppose most of that appeal revolves around Stipe’s vocal, as there is little else to grasp, but it’s an atmospheric song that forces the listener to pay attention. That’s not a bad thing, as it likely means it will be one of the few songs here with staying power.

12. Blue – I loved this song when it was called “Country Feedback.” R.E.M. has mined its own back catalog for ideas for the past several years, but this is as blatant as it gets. The music feels like a note-for-note lift of the Out of Time classic, and if that isn’t obvious, Stipe then talks in a hushed, distorted tone to drive the point home. Patti Smith’s presence is nice, but it feels as if her vocal from “E-Bow the Letter” was grafted onto the track. The saving grace: The reprise of “Discoverer” at the end of the track, nicely bookending the album.