Oh, yeah -- the new album. Stipe, Buck and bassist Mike Mills, supplemented by Scott McCaughey, Ken Stringfellow, Joey Waronker, Jamie Candiloro and more violinists than any outfit this side of the New York Philharmonic, trudge through a batch of cautious, overly ornate pop songs that feel as airless as a vacuum chamber. There are references aplenty here ("Saturn Return" apes mid-period Roxy Music, "Beat a Drum" is nicked so directly from the Beach Boys oeuvre that Brian Wilson should contact an attorney immediately), but the musicians treat them as if they're glass figurines or hollowed-out eggshells with several cracks already in them. "Imitation of Life" displays a bit of the old strum-strum, albeit with the addition of a kite factory's worth of strings, but most everything else is slow and pretty in a singularly empty way, like Cat Stevens on Thorazine. Stipe, meanwhile, croons as if he's been swaddled in gauze, and most of his lyrics are overwhelmingly reality-free. "Once you had a dream of oceans and sunken cities/ Memories of things you've never known, and you have never known," from "The Lifting," is fairly typical, though not quite as frightening as "There is a calm I haven't come to yet," found in "Disappear." If Stipe gets any calmer, he'll be declared dead.
R.E.M.'s recent failures to connect with its audience (the band's previous release, 1999's Up, left fans cold for the same reasons this one will) stand in stark contrast to the recent upswing experienced by U2, a combo from the same era. Of course, U2's comeback has everything to do with its decision to revisit its early style, which is hardly a long-term creative solution -- but even that would be preferable to Reveal. So go ahead, guys. Make Murmur II, or More Fables of the Reconstruction, or even The Return of Life's Rich Pageant. Just don't do this again, okay?