REM once had this neat trick of appearing totally oblique, yet bursting with purpose and clarity. From “Murmur” to “Automatic For The People” they might have been the acceptable face of alternative America, but they were also mysterious, engaging and, in their own way, challenging. Happily, they could also sh*t good tunes for breakfast.
So how perplexing it is, that as soon as we can hear every syllable Michael Stipe pronounces (and the fact he now sings lines like “I want the sun to shine on me, I want the truth to set me free” instead of indecipherable mumbling) they seem all adrift and hopeless. The mystery has gone. Apart from being a trio of forty-something blokes with mandolins and an immense back catalogue, their purpose seems unclear.
Unfortunately, “Around The Sun”, shows this lack of purpose to have reached crippling levels. At times it’s as if as the band, lost as to their true identity, start playing what they think REM should be playing. It sounds familiar – Stipe's voice, Buck’s jangling Rickenbacker - but touch it and there’s nothing there. No substance at all. Maybe, for all Stipe’s pronouncements about three-legged dogs, they’re still missing Bill Berry. Whatever it is, something’s seriously gone awry.
And yet it all starts so promisingly. The single “Leaving New York” is their best in aeons. Possibly better still had it been stripped back and starker, but there’s no doubting it’s beauty and grace and a melody that sinks deeper under the skin with every listen.
You await more of the same, but it never materialises. The album quickly descends into an uninspiring mid-tempo plod. Second song in, “Electron Blue”, and Stipe already appears to be phoning in his vocals. The following number, “The Outsiders” - interesting in that it contains a rap by Q-Tip - sounds like Foreigner.
Over-production nullifies anything else that could’ve bloomed. The anti-Bush folk number “Final Straw”, while laudable in it’s sentiments, ends up in a no-mans land between Will Oldham and Will Young while “The Worst Joke Ever” flirts with lighter-waving territory.
Repeated plays just refuse to reveal hidden depths. There aren‘t any. “Around The Sun” is just a really poor album, probably the first one that this band has ever put out. The overall impression is that they’ve forgotten about the songs and preoccupied themselves worrying about the textures. Stuck between second-guessing their audience’s expectations and where they actual want to travel, they end up in a cul-de-sac of their own making.
If this was a new band - or even one playing down your local - you’d have to say it was pretty dull. It certainly wouldn’t turn heads. But this is REM’s 13th album. That’s evidence of either perpetual decline or a band that needs a shot in the arm, and pretty damn sharpish.
