vinylfanatics.com

**R.E.M. - Up: The Sound of Moving Forward**

By 1998, R.E.M. had already carved out their place in rock history twice over. First, as the jangly college rock pioneers who gave us the essential *Murmur* in 1983, a record that practically invented alternative rock with its cryptic lyrics and Peter Buck's chiming Rickenbacker guitar work. Then again as mainstream conquerors with 1991's *Out of Time*, the album that transformed them from indie darlings into global superstars thanks to the mandolin-driven "Losing My Religion" and the environmental anthem "Shiny Happy People." But *Up*, their eleventh studio album, represents something entirely different: the sound of reinvention born from loss.

The seismic shift began in 1997 when drummer Bill Berry announced his departure from the band, citing exhaustion and a desire for a quieter life after suffering a brain aneurysm during a 1995 concert. For a band that had operated as a democratic quartet for nearly two decades, losing Berry wasn't just about replacing a drummer—it was about reimagining their entire identity. Rather than recruit a permanent replacement, Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, and Mike Mills chose to soldier on as a trio, supplemented by session musicians and drum machines.

*Up* sounds like exactly what it is: three friends figuring out how to be R.E.M. without one of their founding members. The result is their most experimental album, a fascinating detour into electronic textures, ambient soundscapes, and studio trickery that would have been unthinkable during their I.R.S. Records days. Gone are the days of straightforward rock songs; instead, we get the hypnotic pulse of "Lotus" and the dreamy, Beach Boys-influenced "At My Most Beautiful," where Stipe croons over lush harmonies and vintage keyboards.

The album's opening track, "Airportman," sets the tone with its programmed beats and swirling synthesizers, immediately signaling that this isn't your older sibling's R.E.M. It's followed by "Lotus," perhaps the album's finest moment, where a simple piano melody builds into something transcendent, with Stipe delivering some of his most direct and emotionally resonant lyrics: "I ate the lotus / I have the samples to prove it." The song perfectly captures the album's themes of transformation and rebirth.

"Daysleeper," the album's lead single, proved that R.E.M. could still craft a memorable hook even while exploring new sonic territory. Built around a hypnotic guitar riff and Mills' steady bassline, it's both immediately accessible and subtly subversive, telling the story of a night-shift worker in Stipe's typically oblique style. Meanwhile, "The Apologist" strips things down to just piano and voice, showcasing Stipe's growth as a vocalist and the band's willingness to embrace vulnerability.

The influence of electronic music permeates throughout, from the trip-hop influenced "Diminished" to the ambient closer "Falls to Climb." Producer Pat McCarthy, working with the band for the first time, helped them embrace these new textures while maintaining their essential R.E.M.-ness. Buck trades his signature jangle for effects pedals and keyboards, while Mills' bass work becomes more prominent in Berry's absence, anchoring songs that might otherwise float away entirely.

Critical reception was mixed upon release, with many longtime fans puzzled by the band's electronic detour. Commercial performance was similarly lukewarm, at least by R.E.M.'s standards, though it did spawn several minor hits. In retrospect, however, *Up* feels like a brave artistic statement, a refusal to simply recreate past glories or attempt to replace the irreplaceable.

The album's legacy has grown considerably in the years since its release. What once seemed like a radical departure now sounds like a logical evolution for a band that had always prized experimentation over commercial calculation. Songs like "At My Most Beautiful" and "Lotus" have become fan favorites, while the album's electronic elements presaged the band's continued willingness to evolve on subsequent releases like *Reveal* and *Around the Sun*.

*Up* may not possess the immediate impact of *Murmur* or the commercial appeal of *Out of Time*, but it stands as perhaps R.E.M.'s most emotionally complex work. It's the sound of a band refusing to be defined by loss, instead choosing to explore new