R.E.M. - Automatic for the People (1992)

Dan:

I imagine that all fans of R.E.M. have opinions regarding their favorite albums. Some love the primitive Murmur; others have an affection for Up (1998) or Around the Sun (2004). I've declared my preference for Fables of the Reconstruction (1985) and Document (1987), based on their roles in my personal prog discovery journey. 

Favorites notwithstanding, I think it would be an oversight to omit Automatic for the People, which is R.E.M.'s most commercially successful album (with Out of Time (1991) ranked equally by Wikipedia). I'm not fond of Out of Time, which just goes to prove that it's hard to evaluate R.E.M. albums on anything but subjective criteria. That said, it's hard to argue against Automatic, unless you absolutely reject popularity as relevant. It yielded six singles, comprising half of the album's total. "Man on the Moon" is hummable by most people who may not even know of R.E.M.'s existence. "Everybody Hurts" is just as familiar.

A good portion of the credit for Automatic's success must go to producer Scott Litt who oversaw multiple recording locations and brought in John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin fame to arrange the orchestration of strings and a lone woodwind (oboist Deborah Workman). I wouldn't say that this puts R.E.M. in Steely Dan territory as far as production is concerned, but the band had obviously come a long way since Murmur.

Mainly I just like this album, even though part of me wants to rebel against commercial success, which is more how I felt in 1992 that I do now 31 years later. It's not that the album gets better with age, and it's not something I need to turn to very often. It's just an amazingly consistent album that deserves the attention it continues to receive. 

Steve: 

From what I've seen from reviewers who came of age on the world wide web, Automatic for the People is a consensus choice for best R.E.M. album among those who don't gravitate naturally to the IRS-label era (i.e., Murmur through Document). While I've always identified with the earlier era, I have familiarized myself with all of R.E.M.'s albums, even though few of them share characteristics of the IRS period that endeared me to the band in the first place.

I believe that the ongoing popularity of Automatic for the People has less to do with the prevalence of hits than it does with the overall sound of the album (which has aged very well) and the resonant themes that pepper the album. Contrast this to Out of Time, which had a similarly "unplugged" sound, and much bigger hits ("Losing My Religion" and "Shiny Happy People"), which in my opinion have now far outworn their welcome. Those hits always sounded too contrived to me, as though the band’s popularity was going to their heads a little too much. (Incidentally, R.E.M. was the first band I remember having an "unplugged" special on MTV around this time).

On Automatic for the People, popular songs like "Man on the Moon" and "Drive" have aged much better. "Man on the Moon," in particular, still tugs at the heartstrings, especially because I still associate it with the Andy Kaufman biopic of the same name. But the song isn't empty sentimentality - Pete Buck's slide guitar makes for some really nice coloring in the arrangement, and the chorus of the song resolves the questioning verses like a good song should. Likewise, although I was initially turned off by "Drive" because of its simplicity, closer listening reveals a gradual build in the instrumental base, hitting some grungy guitar bits that really help move the song along.  

Aside from the singles, one deeper cut that I find interesting is "Sweetness Follows", a quiet but ominous song, with lots of atmosphere and chilling harmonies. It's not the kind of song that will grab you on first listen, but give it time. On the louder side, "Ignoreland" provides a welcome injection of rock power on an otherwise subdued album. 

Following Automatic for the People, R.E.M. made further attempts to experiment with their sound, but not always successfully. Monster, with its loud distorted guitars, is often cited as the weakest link in their discography, and R.E.M. never truly regained the popularity they enjoyed in the early 1990s. But for a few years, they occupied that coveted space overlapping both commercial and critical success.

Paul Weller - Paul Weller (1992)

Dan:

As the founding member of two influential rock groups, The Jam and The Style Council, Paul Weller might have been content to rest on his laurels and collect his royalty checks. But at age 34 he decided to pursue a solo career, emphasizing a more soulful approach. He seemed to be working back through a gamut of earlier styles. The Jam had been one of the best early punk bands; The Style Council recalled early jazz and swing influences; so why not try soul music?

I'm not sure how I ended up with a copy of Weller's self-titled CD in 1992, but it has been in heavy rotation, as Michael Fremer might say, for the past 30 years. There are absolutely no duds on the album, which is unusual because I usually find a song that I avoid playing. The favorites are "Bull Rush," "Above the Clouds," "Into Tomorrow," "The Strange Museum," and "Kosmos." These are all original compositions, not Weller's take on soul favorites from the past. As such, his songwriting deserves as much praise as the performances. 

Weller has always had an excellent singing voice, but he's at his best on these solo albums. He's always on pitch, conjures up emphatic growls at just the right times, and manages his dynamics to bring out the best in the lyrics. Several tunes have clever instrumental effects, such as the fade out and fade in on "Kosmos."

As Steve Winwood was wont to do, Weller plays most of the instruments on the album: guitars, bass, and keyboards. Only drummer Steve White is enlisted as a fellow band member, although background vocals are supplied by Dee C. Lee, Camille Hinds, Carlene Anderson, and Dr. Robert on half of the tracks. The added vocals add variety and touches of soul, much as Roxy Music and Steely Dan sought to do. It all works to perfection; Weller's solo albums are all skillfully composed and cleverly arranged to keep the listener engaged. 

Weller's subsequent solo albums are just as good: Wildwood (1993), Stanley Road (1995), and Heavy Soul (1997) are all winners cast in the same mold as Paul Weller. 

Steve:

After hearing my friend Tim's copy of The Jam's single "Start!" in the early 80s, I was immediately interested in the band. I bought a used copy of The Jam's All Mod Cons (1978) for Tim's birthday present, and listened to it before giving it to him, further cementing my fandom. I was known to wear a Jam pin on my shirt in high school, and The Jam were one of the first few punk-related bands to hit my radar. Rarely has there been a band that had such incredible success in the UK yet was virtually unknown in the US. Their singles compilation album Snap! is a great introduction to the band - four full LP sides of total bangers.  

Soon after this discovery, I got wind of The Jam's breakup and Weller's subsequent project, The Style Council. This collaboration with pianist Mick Talbot (and later, Weller's wife, Dee C. Lee) seemed at first to pick up where the Jam's soul-inflected swan song The Gift (1982) left off, but soon spread in myriad directions, including jazz, orchestral pop, and even rap (c.f. "A Gospel" and "Right to Go" from Cafe Bleu and The Cost of Loving, respectively). Although I eventually came to love their ambitious if slightly overstuffed and unfocused albums, at the time The Style Council escaped my interest. With my focus on punk, I had other things I was listening to.

Paul Weller's solo debut came to my attention via Dan, who has effectively taken the baton from me as the family's resident Weller enthusiast. I have listened to most of Weller's solo albums (including this debut album) over the years but have yet to add any to my personal collection. Recently, however, my musical tastes have grown to include 70s soul and funk, particularly the smooth hits I remember from the radio in the 1970s. Relistening to Paul Weller for this blog finds it very much in line with the smooth, soulful, warm-sounding groove albums I listen to nowadays. The natural, earthy sound of the album is "old school"; 1992 was a time when the tech-saturated productions of 80s pop were out, and "unplugged" albums were in.

I was not previously aware that Weller handled all the guitar, bass, and keys on this album. If so, it's an incredibly "live" sound, and he clearly has the chops to play fluidly and confidently on multiple instruments. I also agree with Dan that his voice never sounded better.

Phish - Junta (1992)

Dan:

Steve had a 2-CD set of a recording called Junta with weird cover art, played by a band called Phish. He told me that the album was first self-released on a cassette tape in 1989 but finally Elektra had put it out on both cassette and CD. Technically, then, all but the original cassettes are considered reissues. It didn't take long for the fan base to widen and Phish became a touring phenom - a jam band, if you will.

For my personal use, I recorded the CDs on a C-90 cassette, which nicely restored the original format. (I chose not to record the three bonus tracks on the CD "reissue"). I mostly remember playing it in my car on my way back and forth to work. I enjoyed all of the songs and leader Trey Anastasio's guitar adventures. So I played it frequently.

On August 24, 1992, Miami was hit by Hurricane Andrew. Although our house was not breached, our neighbor's mango tree crashed through the screen over our pool and into the water. Mango tea, anyone? While our damage was nothing like the devastation a few miles to the south of us, fallen trees filled the roads and we lost electricity for 17 days. Repairs took another year to complete.

The university shut down for more than a week. When it finally reopened, I would try to find backroads to work because many roads were impassable. Traffic lights were basically inoperable, so drivers had to be self-regulating; sometimes that worked but other times it didn't. 

One of my most emotional moments (of many) during the hurricane's aftermath was approaching a busy intersection at rush hour, with Junta playing in the car. I think the song playing was either "The Divided Sky" or "David Bowie," which were together on one side of the 90-minute tape. I could see the traffic light was gone, but a young woman was standing in the intersection directing cars with a huge smile on her face. I was overwhelmed by her selflessness and her beaming face - the perfect embodiment of the spirit of "neighbor helping neighbor," which had become something of a mantra during the long recovery. 

We all experienced positive and negative emotions in the ensuing years, and I recall being unable to talk with colleagues about the hurricane for 5 full months. I'll forever associate Junta with Hurricane Andrew's aftermath. 

I later attended two Phish concerts, one at the Cameo Theater on Miami Beach and the other at an outdoor venue on Biscayne Bay. I convinced my friend Christos to go with me to the Cameo because he also liked prog rock. We were certainly an odd-looking couple - aging statistical outliers in a room full of 20-somethings. 

Coming to Junta fresh was a fascinating experience. I love the guitar jams, and Trey Anastasio has amazing technique and inexhaustible ideas worthy of long solos. I like the jams better than what I consider to be novelty numbers (e.g., Fluffhead or "Dinner and a Movie"), but they're also a big part of the Phish experience. I also like the fables like "Esther" and "Fee," which may seem ridiculous on first hearing, but after a while you find yourself humming the tune and remembering the lyrics. "Esther" also ends with a sublime series of guitar choruses that glide beautifully across a new set of chord changes.

I went on to collect the next four Phish albums (up through Hoist), and lost interest after that. I also did not gain much from the vast number of live shows that began appearing on CD. To me, Phish are not like The Grateful Dead even though they're often compared to them. 

Steve:

As I was getting heavily into the early 90s prog renaissance, which saw the appearance of new 70's oriented bands as well as the reissue of hundreds of previously obscure international prog releases from the 70s, Phish became my favorite band. I was living in Chapel Hill NC at the time, bumming around for a year after graduating college, when my friend Rob visited with an exciting discovery. In the car he put on "The Squirming Coil", the first track on Phish's Lawn Boy album. It sounded to me like a lost track from Genesis' The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. Then "Reba" started, and it called to mind the goofy Canterbury tracks like Caravan's "Golf Girl" before moving into an extended guitar solo over two chords (reminiscent of Frank Zappa's wonderful "Inca Roads" solo), reaching a climax before going back to the goofy verses. My introduction to Lawn Boy was a pivotal moment in my young life, and my fixation on Phish lasted the better part of the next decade.  

As with other "jam bands" (a term often used pejoratively nowadays), Phish encouraged tapings of their live shows, and before long I had several tapes of early shows that introduced me to key songs in the band's early repertoire: "The Divided Sky", "David Bowie", "Esther", "Golgi Apparatus", "You Enjoy Myself", and others. By this time, in addition to Lawn Boy, I had acquired the band's current studio album (and first on Elektra Records) A Picture of Nectar, a breakthrough that heralded the band's exposure to the general public.

One of the by-products of signing with Elektra was the official issue of Junta, the band's early cassette first distributed in 1988. Here, to my delight, were studio versions of many of the songs that formed the heart of the band's set list on early shows, and to this day most of these songs still constitute highlights of their shows. My favorites include "You Enjoy Myself", a song so iconic in Phish lore that it became the most frequently played song in concert (563 shows and counting, according to a quick Internet search). The strange, repeated lyric in the middle of the song was such a mystery amongst fans that "What are they saying in "You Enjoy Myself"?" became the Phish fandom's most frequently asked question. Even the question itself begat a frequently used anagram ("WATSIYEM?") frequently seen in discussion groups. Such are the whimsical joys of online life. Another favorite, the 10-minute "The Divided Sky", is entirely instrumental except for a brief recitation of the title near the beginning. The track has enough tension and excitement to keep a theater of kids on the edge of their seats throughout the entire song.

I can easily recommend Junta to any progressive rock fan curious as to what the fuss is about with Phish. Many of their most classic songs are here, from a time when they were most heavily influenced by classic progressive rock.