R.E.M.
Automatic For The People

After more than seven albums, of which at least two are true masterpieces (I cite "Murmur", "Document"), in 1992 R.E.M. ("AR I EM"), just a year after the global (and million-selling) success of "Out Of Time", returned to the scene with "Automatic For The People". Michael Stipe had lost an impressive amount of weight (and it must be said that the guy, to begin with, was not of robust constitution), he was pale, almost syphilitic. Many cried out about illness, about AIDS, perhaps also due to his not very clear (or crystal clear, depending on how one interprets things) sexual preferences. But he did nothing to dissuade the crowd. Rather, he let it be, with the intent, given his enormous fame, to raise public awareness about the victims of the HIV virus. And here the curtain rises.

Pain and death. These are the dominant themes in "Automatic For The People", a predominantly acoustic album. And they are whether you listen to "Drive", the beautiful and evocative opening ballad that, amidst guitar and strings, painfully expresses the youthful discomfort of a "wild" night, or you lose yourself among the simple yet intense guitar notes of "Sweetness Follows", the sweetest and saddest song of the entire CD and, in my opinion, of the entire REM oeuvre (in fact, it is the story of someone preparing to bury their parents but not giving up, knowing that sooner or later "sweetness will follow"), its sound almost understated to make room for Stipe's anguished voice.
Few but lively are the "R.E.M.-style" tracks, as if taking a leap into the recent past: "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite", an incomprehensible nursery rhyme (that references "The Lion Sleeps Tonight") with engaging rhythm and chorus. "Man On The Moon" (soundtrack of the wonderful film of the same name, starring an extraordinary Jim Carrey), Stipe's dedication to the myth Andy Kaufman, a renowned comedian who died prematurely. And then there is the relaxed "Star Me Kitten" and especially "Ignoreland" (with musical echoes of "Finest Worksong", and more generally of "Document"): a track with a brisk rhythm, a social denunciation against the illusions of an America "land of ignorant people".

Thereafter, pain & death return forcefully, and they are not just hinted at in "Try Not To Breathe", and particularly in "Everybody Hurts", an absolute masterpiece by R.E.M., a track of identification along with "Losing My Religion": jingle-jangle always effective and bass that spins marvelously, but here Stipe's voice performs yet another miracle, hitting the listener straight to the heart in the desperate cry, after the attack of strings and percussion, of "don't give up". Suffering is also present in "Monty Got A Raw Deal", a dedication to actor Montgomery Clift, ironic in the title ("Monty had it bad") but moving for the beauty of the text and its meaning. And if the seductive notes of the instrumental "New Orleans Instrumental No.1" allow one to catch their breath among the multitude of emotions this album is capable of instilling, "Nightswimming" and "Find The River", the two final pearls, remind us once again that if Stipe & Co. are inspired, they are capable of anything. "Nightswimming" could be a late summer poem, to be listened to at sunset immersed in the tranquility of the calm evening sea: the only protagonists are the piano, a few strings, and Michael's always wonderful voice. "Find The River" is also pure poetry: from the accordion and the acoustic guitar that give the opening to percussion and piano, to the words that flow from Stipe's husky voice. From the invitation to find the river, as the river finds the sea, to the death of a poet who knows "to be closer to you now than light years ago".

The proper conclusion of "Automatic For The People": pure poetry. There are no weak points in this masterpiece. Every