With thirty-five years of hindsight, R.E.M.’s Out of Time (released 3/12/91) sounds like even more of a vast stylistic departure from its predecessors than at the time of its original issue. The quartet’s decision to eschew touring at this point was perhaps logical, at least to an extent, but it was no less courageous a move.
What’s so remarkable, in hindsight in fact, is that with this LP’s successor, Automatic For The People, the archetypal DIY quartet continued a remarkable string of work that actually began with Document: that mainstream commercial breakthrough of 1987 was furthered by its immediate successor, Green, the very next year, (their debut on the major label of Warner Bros.)..
As evidenced by “Losing My Religion,” R.E.M. didn’t wholly forsake the so-called jangle-pop sound it had honed since the Chronic Town EP. Nevertheless, with the aid of co-producer Scott Litt and engineer John Keane, the foursome pushed beyond previously established boundaries, incorporating even more varied arrangements than on its predecessors, while even collaborating with rapper KRS-One on “Radio Song.”
Highly clarified, remastered audio on the 25th Anniversary Edition also makes it easy to hear how other arrangements might sound, with Peter Buck playing the sweeping chords on (familiar) electric guitar(s) rather than the mandolin.
Studio sketches allowed R.E.M. to test what previously came so naturally to them, and the plethora of outtakes in the milestone set illuminate the sequence of events, a virtual process of elimination, that led to the final production.
Whether or not in the cryptic division of ‘Time Side’ and ‘Memory Side’ on vinyl, hearing the eleven cuts today can be altogether startling, even without direct comparison to its prior records like 1986’s Life’s Rich Pageant. It’s quite likely a sensation comparable to initial hearings of Out Of Time; allowing for slight but significant variances, an alternate version of the aforementioned hit sounds outright doleful at an ever-so-slightly slower pace.
Meanwhile, another rendition with a forlorn vocal further emphasizes that doleful mood. That deceptively subtle touch renders Michael Stipe’s world-weary vocal even more foreboding. Likewise, on “Radio-Acoustic,” the idiosyncratic lead singer pushes the song’s lyrics even further to the forefront, a move he also makes on a take of “Country Feedback.”
It’s actually possible to hear this seventh R.E.M studio gaining coherence at each repetition of a number. The sequencing of the second CD of the anniversary package affirms that impression, besides suggesting a logic that bespeaks the self-awareness of this package’s curators: the focus of Sig Sigworth and Kevin O’Neil might well have equaled that of R.E.M. itself at the time of the project’s gestation.
The well-deserved recognition the Out of Time received at the time of its release, including multiple Grammy Awards, not only enhanced the group’s elevated status in the mainstream but also validated their decision to move beyond its status as indie vanguard after fulfilling its contract with I.R.S. Records.
Such broad acceptance may not have rendered moot accusations that the band ‘sold out,’ but three and a half decades retrospect ratifies R.E.M.’s elevated position in the pantheon of contemporary American rock and roll bands.
These purposefully eccentric musicians had been reluctant to engage in much overt promotion for their work. But along with Buck and Stipe, drummer/composer Bill Berry and bassist/vocalist Mike Mills have nonetheless taken scrupulous care to acknowledge the various milestones of their work.
In doing so, the quartet has evinced a rightful pride in how stylishly they navigated the creative changes they pursued as their collective maturation progressed. Appropriately enough, there may be no more vivid depiction of that process than 1991’s Out Of Time.
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These are important milestones in R.E.M.’s career. When the group moved to Warner Bros., they not only maintained but also strengthened their position in the international music market.