"Fables of the Reconstruction"

We jump ahead now to REM's third studio LP, "Fables of the Reconstruction" (once again, the chronology is screwy because I'm going in order of when I became familiar with the albums - next we'll do "Document", then everything will be in line). “Fables”, for some reason, gets a lot of crap. This started in the early 90s when members of the band were quoted on a number of occasions making less than enthusiastic remarks about the album as a whole. “Fables sucks,” Bill Berry put it bluntly. One wonders if there was some dynamic among the band during the songwriting, recording, or mixing process that tarnished the whole experience for them, because many of us really enjoy this album, and it’s one I go back to time and time again.

“Fables” may be REM’s most overtly southern-themed work, even though it was recorded in the UK (I wonder if this detachment is responsible for any of the ill will later on). Making a big shift in production, the band enlisted the help of Nick Drake producer, Joe Boyd. The result is a collection of really well-crafted songs presented with a certain tension. Part of the tension comes by way of darker tones coaxed from the band matched with vocals that stand out in front more so than in earlier recordings. The REM traits are all still present: Michael’s odd and heart-felt lyrics, Pete’s ups-and-downsy guitar, Mike’s reliable bass and piano, Bill’s poppy drums, but there’s something unique going on – something uncommon.

So I like it as is, but here’s my crazy fan fantasy: If the band were ever to reconsider and re-visit “Fables”, why not mix it up a bit? How about “Life and How to Live It” as a traditional bluegrass number? Let’s hear “Can’t Get There From Here” with the full Brian Setzer swing band treatment. Or can we get some help from Broadway for a show-stopping version of “Good Advices”?

You think I’m kidding...

West of the Fields

The last tune on "Murmur" evokes a little more complexity than you might expect from the last cut on a first album. There's a sadness mixed with urgency here as a band, whose very name belies a subtext of dreaming, struggles with a dream that has long gone west of the fields.

Yet, west is where we go literally and otherwise when we need to explore, find newness and adventure, and follow the dream. So a fitting end to an incredible record, and a fitting beginning to a remarkable musical legacy.

We Walk

My guess is that REM didn't try to sell their new record company on the concept of "Murmur" based on the merits of We Walk - at least not on the first four measures. It kind of sounds something you would hear on "The Wiggles". Anyway, the song gets going, and what can you say about it? It's sorta cute, sorta lame, sorta repetitive, and thankfully the shortest song on the album. The only really interesting thing about it (to me...) is the slowed down sound effect of billiard balls crashing in the background.

Shaking Through

Structurally, this is a very tried and true pop song formula:

• verse 1
• verse 2
• chorus with a big melody lift
• verse 3
• chorus
• bridge
• verse 4
• chorus
• key change (!) and chorus

But wait - there's more going on here. Lyrically, this is a real gem. The song opens with the resigned and somewhat defeated question:

Could it be that one small voice
Doesn't count in the room?

And then opens up to the vindication of the chorus:

Shaking through
Opportune

Yeah, not the best rhyme on the record, but on an album called "Murmur" this just works so well.

9-9

Nine ways to refer to this song:

1. “Nine, Nine”
2. “Nine to Nine”
3. “Nine Minus Nine”
4. “Nine Dash Nine”
5. “Nine through Nine”
6. “Conversation Fear” (common title, like when people call “Baba O’Riley” “Teenage Wasteland”)
7. “Nine, Negative Nine”
8. “Nine (Nine)”
9. “Nine, Not Nine”

Sitting Still

"I can hear you... can you hear me?"

Well, yes, but that's about all I can decipher. Here Stipe's being typically artistically cryptic but this time with a clear pronunciation. Almost to the point where we're assured that he's not saying anything in the traditional sense. At other times we might think that if we could only turn his vocals up we could decode the deep message. But here he's letting the cat peek out of the bag. We'd have to wait until the KRS-One duet for the cat to fully escape.

Pete's jangling away in what's to become his signature picking pattern. I particularly like the tone of the Ric 12-string. Especially when he digs in during the chorus.

Its a nice, breezy song with a hook to trip over here and there. Not at the top of list of favorite REM songs, but a welcome companion on a long drive.

Catapult

Filler. Sorry, that's what this tune amounts to. It's not bad, it's got some familiar REM hallmarks. But then again, Olive Garden has some familiar Italian restaurant hallmarks. Did I miss anything?

Perfect Circle

REM fans come in all shapes and preferences, but I don't know a fan who doesn't like this song. Penned by Bill, it becomes all the more likable with a hint of sad nostalgia. Ironically, there's something very imperfect and human about this tune: the slightly out of tune piano(s) and the faltering vocals. I guess all of our "perfect" circles of acquaintances and friends are likewise slightly out of tune, yet still beautiful and enduring.