Whilst Out of Time was the 7th album from R.E.M., it was my third foray into their back catalogue, having started with 1994’s Monster and worked backwards. That same year saw my ‘musical-awakening’, having previously had an ambivalent relationship with the art form through Thursday night screenings of Top of the Pops.
With no CD player in our household, it was left to cassette tapes to be the vessels for my initial musical education. This suited me fine – I had no concept of sound quality technology, the difference between analogue and digital, Dolby Noise Reduction and the like. To be honest, I still only barely understand these things now. The great thing about cassettes in 1994 was that they were just starting to come down in price as the popularity of CDs continued to grow. Typically, you could purchase most albums on tape at a much more accessible £6-7. I say most, because there was one particular album I coveted that remained stubbornly outside of my teenage price range at a whopping £12.99. For what seemed like forever….
After much yearning, I was fortunate enough to receive R.E.M.’s Out of Time as a Christmas gift that year.
Released in March 1991, Out of Time was the second album of R.E.M.’s major label deal with Warners, their first five recordings having appeared on indie imprint IRS. Having built up their cult following at a somewhat uniform pace over the preceding ten years, this was the record that fired them into the stratosphere. Six months before the release of Nirvana’s Nevermind, this was the first ‘alternative rock’ album to really crossover into the mainstream. The album topped both the US and UK album charts, and the band bagged three out of the seven Grammy awards they were subsequently nominated for.
What set this record apart from its predecessors was the band’s up-front decision to not tour the album upon completion. This bestowed upon them the freedom to explore instrumentation outside of the traditional rock guitar/bass/drums/vocals dogma that had informed their songwriting over the last decade. Strings appear on 7 of the tracks, saxophone on 3 cuts, and clarinet on 2. Even the mighty flugelhorn makes an appearance on the instrumental ‘Endgame’.
Rock AND Roll
It was this formula of experimentation which led to Peter Buck inventing the mandolin, the signature instrument of the album’s lead single ‘Losing My Religion’, which would see the band reach what was their highest ever chart position in the US (number 4 and Gold certified).
Sarcasm aside, you would think that the opening phrase of ‘Losing My Religion’ was the first time anyone had heard the tones of a soprano lute, despite the instrument featuring on three tracks from the band’s previous album, Green. MTV immediately latched onto the track, accompanied by the band’s most accomplished short form video to date.
Some facts and observations around this video:
- This was the first R.E.M. video to feature Michael Stipe lip synching and dancing like a loon. Both would feature in numerous future promos.
- The video was the winner of one of the aforementioned Grammy awards and 6 MTV Video Music Awards.
- The religious imagery throughout the video often leads to the misconception that the song is about a test of faith. It also landed them in bother with some Catholic groups. Based upon the band’s attire, I would have thought that Amish groups would have taken the most offence. If they knew what MTV was.
- This is the last reported sighting of Michael Stipe’s hairline.
- No matter how many times I see it, I really want Peter Buck to fall over in the video’s opening sequence….
‘Losing My Religion’ is in fact a turn of phrase popular in the southern US states, meaning ‘at my wit’s end’ or ‘at the end of my tether’. An unrequited love song bordering on obsession, Stipe has explained it as encapsulating a moment of doubt with a potential suitor. The uncertainty of their crush’s response to his advances drives the narrator to the brink – ‘Oh no, I’ve said too much / I haven’t said enough’.
The success of ‘Losing My Religion’ catapulted R.E.M. into the mainstream. With 17 million albums sold, Out of Time is now quadruple platinum in the US, 5x platinum in the UK, and 7x Platinum in Canada.
So, now more than twenty years on, how has the record aged? Was Out of Time simply of its time?
The album’s first cut, ‘Radio Song’, is a curious proposition, and feels out of place in the context of what follows. Opening with trademark R.E.M. chiming six-string arpeggios, the track gives way to multiple funk guitar tracks, Hammond organ, and rapping. Stipe cohort KRS-One chips in with vocal embellishments throughout, and sees the track home in its final minute. Whilst five years had passed since Run DMC revitalised Aerosmith’s ailing career and the Rick Rubin produced Beastie Boys had emerged, rap and rock were still years away from sitting side by side in record collections. The band should definitely be given credit for trying this different angle, even though the track isn’t particularly cohesive with the remainder of the record.
It is therefore with a sense of irony that ‘Radio Song’ gives way to the most recognisable R.E.M. song of all in ‘Losing My Religion’. Yes, I have sung this song in a Karaoke competition. And yes, I did win.
The remainder of the album continues to explore various different arrangements, tinged with folk and country stylings. The slow, muted, conga driven pace of ‘Low’, the lyric-less yet soulful refrain of ‘Endgame’, the spoken word and expressive harmonies of ‘Belong’, the lapsteel desperation of ‘Country Feedback’ – each track has its own character whilst retaining that oft-imitated, rarely duplicated quality that made R.E.M. so special.
For me, there are two heroes on this album. The first is bassist Mike Mills, who during the recording of this album was somewhere between the mild-mannered geek of the IRS years, and the mild-mannered-bleached-hair- ludicrously-suited arena rocker of Monster.
This was the record where Mills really began to put his stamp on R.E.M., where the band’s new approach to song construction allowed his ability as a multi-instrumentalist to shine through.
In addition to a clear step-up in songwriting responsibility, Mills also takes centre stage vocally on ‘Near Wild Heaven’ and ‘Texarkana’, with Stipe relegated to backing vocals. Whilst Mills’ voice doesn’t have the dynamism to carry an entire album, both songs are great examples of how well his and Stipe’s voices mesh throughout their entire body of work.
My second hero of Out of Time is Kate Pierson, best known as a member of Athens GA’s second most successful musical export, the B-52s. Kate appears on three tracks. Whilst barely audible in the mix of ‘Country Feedback’, Pierson’s contribution is more obvious on second single ‘Shiny Happy People’. Much maligned by music critics, and seemingly hated by the band - the track failed to make the cut on R.E.M.’s greatest hits package, In Time, despite reaching the Top 10 in six different territories - I can’t help but love it. If you can resist bouncing around to the guitar riff and joining in with the handclaps on the chorus, you’re a better human being than I.
Not Kate Pierson
My favourite track on the album, however, is left ‘til last. ‘Me in Honey’ is a classic two-chorder, its simple arrangement juxtaposed with the complex emotional subject matter of the song: Stipe’s protagonist has his ambivalence towards a lover clouded and brought to the fore by pregnancy.
'Baby's got some new rules, baby says she's had it with me,There's a fly in the honey and baby's got a baby with me,
That's a part, that's a part of me'
The turmoil of our narrator’s feelings are then encapsulated with a selfish parting shot; “What about me?” Whilst clearly delivered from a male perspective, Pierson’s contribution to the song’s chorus in effect validates the song, representing the other half of the relationship, who feels equally torn by the situation. The overwhelming positivity of the music however, leaves no doubt that our lovers will find their way and overcome all obstacles.
So, in conclusion, is this album as good as I remember it back in 1994? Easily. I couldn’t pick out one track that I could happily skip during playback, including the slightly awkward presence of ‘Radio Song’ – being the first track on the record helps.
The only minor disappointment I had upon digital playback of the record was a lack of pause between the two ‘sides’ of the album. Since the release of Reckoning in 1984 up until drummer Bill Berry left the band in 1997 (seemingly taking all the tunes with him), R.E.M. had always given titles to each side of their albums, as they would be defined when played on a vinyl record or cassette tape. Out of Time’s first five tracks make up the Time side, with side B being entitled Memory. Having listened to the record on cassette extensively throughout my teenage years, I have essentially conditioned myself to expect a 5 to 10 second pause after ‘Endgame’ as I turn the tape over. I miss the pause - it separated the two halves of the album beautifully.
When that’s the worst thing you can think of to write about a record, you know you’re on to a winner.
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