Rockin' Our Turntable: R.E.M.'s Fables Remastered
By Marcus Gilmer in Arts & Entertainment on Jul 27, 2010 9:40PM
It takes a lot of balls to kick-off your third LP - following two hugely successful LPs - with a song as discordant as "Feeling Gravity's Pull," but, then, that's R.E.M. While previous LPs Murmur and Reckoning opened with the rollicking "Radio Free Europe" and "Harborcoat," respectively, the band indicated a shift in direction with Fables of the Reconstruction, an album that's recently been given the remaster/repackage/rerelease treatment. Recorded during late winter of 1985 in London, the album's sound reflects the mood of the band-members as, raw and drained from years of constant touring ("We've been on this shift too long," Michael Stipe sings on "Driver 8"), they tried to put together another album against the backdrop of internal feuding and a dark, cold winter in England. It's also the sound of a band not content to stand pat and struggling to move its sound forward. And the opening moments of Fables, those three opening note, are as clear a call as any.
As jarring as that moment is, though, that push forward isn't as relentless as initially suggested. The album's next three songs - the chiming "Maps and Legends," the chugging "Driver 8," and the frantic "Life and How To Live It," - fit the R.E.M. mold (to that point in their career) even as they built upon the band's previous work. The band returns to that discordant sound on "Old Man Kinsey," but, again, shifts directions as they move on to the rollicking, horn-backed "Can't Get There From Here." The shimmering "Green Grow The Rushes" remains one of the most gorgeous songs the band has ever produced (which is saying something) even if its subject matter - migrant manual labor - isn't so shiny and happy ("The wheelbarrow's fallen/Look at my hands/They've found some surplus cheaper hands"). The final third of the album - the dirge of "Kohoutek" and the banjo of "Wendell Gee" - drives home the overall feel of the record: in spite of any evolution in their sound or boundaries they push themselves on, it's still the Gothic folk of R.E.M. at its core. It's almost legendary among fans how much the band actually disliked Fables when it was first released and how, years later, they've come around to liking it. And in spite of those jarring opening notes and that struggle to locate its sound, the record, to its credit, still holds up 25 years later, backed up by its commercial success.
There's more than just a remastered version of the original album. There's also fancy packaging, extended liner notes from Peter Buck, and a disc of demos and alternate takes of the songs that wound up on Fables.
But these seem more directed at die-hard fans, people who would be buying their second or, more likely, third copy of the record, assuming they had purchased the record on vinyl or cassette when it was first released. The extra frills are a nice addition for the series of rereleases but they're just that: extra packaging.
These reissues do serve a purpose, though. While the need to "remaster" them is debatable (though the new versions do sound crisper than the old versions), it still provides a perfect opportunity for new listeners to discover the early work of a band that was important to the development of college/alt rock, a band that listeners under the age of 25 don't recognize or don't care about, the band's image faded over the last 10-15 years thanks to an uneven output (from 1996's highly underrated New Adventures in Hi-Fi to the tepid AOR of 2004's Around The Sun and back again to the stripped down sinew of 2008's Accelerate). In the review for 2001's summery, Brian Wilson-inspired Reveal, Matt LeMay wrote for Pitchfork:
On the scale of human accomplishments, turning out a classic album ought to rank up there with climbing Mount Everest. Stoned. With one leg. And no oxygen. Given the infinite potential for obnoxious excess within the Rock genre, it's no small feat to assemble an album that's so well phrased, so deftly stated, that its impact extends far beyond the realm of the audible. Turn out two or more such albums and you're headed for legendary status. Turn out five or six and you're R.E.M.
Hyperbole aside, there's truth to his statement, especially in regards to R.E.M.'s discography. Last weekend, the annual Pitchfork Music Fest highlighted so much of the sameness of so many current buzz bands. The average listener wouldn't be able to tell a bit of difference between Sleigh Bells, Best Coast, or, say, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. And, chances are, few of theses buzz bands will be around in five-to-ten years, still touring, still playing, reissuing records that remind us of their uniqueness, their distinct sound. Not to say R.E.M. was completely original, drawing upon, most notably, The Byrds and The Velvet Underground on their earlier records. But it's easy to recognize Mike Mills' wandering bass lines, Peter Buck's chiming chords, Bill Berry's frantic drumming, and, yes, Michael Stipes', well, murmurs. They made the sound identifiable, they owned it.
Not to sound too "Back in my day..." but these reissues give us a chance to go back and rediscover, in a way, a band we've long since taken for granted and written off, a band whose career now spans 30 years and, more importantly, a band who wasn't afraid to push their own sonic boundaries and limits even as they grew more popular yet never betraying the core sound that attracted listeners in the first place. And, if Accelerate proved anything, still has vitality and a few tricks up its sleeve.