R.E.M.
Chronic Town

THE REVIEW

Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, don't get caught...

Could mean: don't get caught, new listener of R.E.M., by today's fury, by the so exaggerated critiques on "Around the Sun" or "Accelerate", rediscover the true essence of the band.

But it could also simply be the beginning of a strange little song, far removed several mega-parsecs from "Leaving New York" or "Supernatural Superserious", which opens a mini destined to become the starting point for the career of one of the most brilliant bands of the 80s American scene (and of course the 90s, 2000s and hopefully a little beyond...); the little song is called "Wolves, Lower", it’s fresh, seemingly carefree, reminiscent of high school, of a genuinely and extremely spontaneous guitar arpeggio, of rock for the radio and not for television... It’s like a verse repeated two and a half times, with a nervous and direct message, a simple but delicate chorus where the spirit of the so-called "college rock" shines almost entirely through. <<House in order... uh-huh, uh-huh...>>

The album might then continue with a kind of potential single to be extracted, for radio and charts, the relatively famous "Gardening at Night": poor audio quality, indeed, to paradoxically enhance a strained and almost forced singing, where the voice of our hero, Michael Stipe, still needs some refining, but it blends perfectly with the youthful arpeggios of Peter Buck, and spills into a couple of significant choruses, where something of what R.E.M. represents and still delivers today in terms of emotion and emotion emerges already. Perfect is the mosquito-like backdrop and that obsessive repetition of <<I see your money on the floor...>>

Then there could also be a fan favorite, for the purest fans, those who care little for criticism and much more for substance: "Carnival of Sorts (Box Cars)", partially similar, at least structurally, to "Wolves, Lower", but where speed and a few more designs and rhythm changes take the lead... obsessive here too is the verse hummed by a Michael who fears his own voice (<<there's a secret/ stygma...>>), and the more carefree chorus, to be sung infinitely thinking of the American province, stylistically, consciously or not, relating it within oneself to phenomenal songs like "Radio Free Europe" or "Driver 8". Phenomenal is the unexpected closing scream.

We could include a filler piece, then, where to still express, with shyness and politeness, a bit of rock, a bit of carefree and adolescent refrain, a bit of nostalgic and introspective <<All along the tomb, all along the ruin>> and the game is done, we would have recorded another good track, not essential, but pleasant enough.

Our opening operetta begins to take shape, and we decide to conclude it with the best thing we can think of: "Stumble", which rides without weighing on a fast and dreamy, fun, and tasty arpeggio. The voice rises and falls, fully expressing all that melancholy that at twenty-four is felt for how it was ten years earlier... it almost seems to see some glimmers of the sun reflected among the classrooms and corridors of a high school afternoon return... We continue to play with our best riff, <<force, field, explorer racing home...>>, don't destroy this fresh and surprising atmosphere until the end, and the game is done.

Great start for a career that would continue on the same, excellent, coordinates for another decade and a half...

The EP is ready, we just need to distribute it.

Give a score to me and my friends Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, Bill Berry, and Mike Mills.

<<We are AR-EE-EM, and this is what we do...>>