Published on Nov 18, 2004
After reading this review, I want every person who reads this
review to go out and buy
Monster. Normally, I don’t directly request that readers go
out and buy my recommendations immediately, but
Monster is a special case: it’s cheap. It could very well be
the cheapest album in pop music. No matter how small, virtually
every used record store has about ten copies in their catalog. You
can currently buy a used copy on amazon.com for a penny. A friggin’
penny!
What earned
Monster this dubious distinction? What about this album made
it almost impossible for record store clerks to ever sell a new
mint copy of
Monster again? It’s one of the myths of modern pop — sort
of like how Hootie and the Blowfish and the Backstreet Boys can
sell ten million albums but no one will claim ownership of their
CDs. Before we examine why there are so many used copies of
Monster, it’s important to examine what made droves of
people purchase the album. After all, those used bins didn’t fill
themselves.
After
Document, R.E.M. released a trifecta of folksier, more
mellow albums.
Green,
Out Of Time and
Automatic For The People each grew more mellow and
introspective.
Monster promised a return to the more guitar-oriented sounds
that made
Document so beloved. Still, it’s not like people hated these
three albums. All made the top ten and sold at least a million
copies (hell, R.E.M. would most likely kill for a gold album
nowadays). On top of that,
Automatic For The People has been regarded as R.E.M.’s best
work. Still, when early press leaked out that R.E.M. was plugging
in the amps and going full tilt, fans began salivating.
The album sold like gangbusters for the first few weeks. Their
first single, “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” was a nice single to
reintroduce R.E.M.’s return to rock. It featured Michael Stipe’s
stream of conscious, marble-mouthed delivery and Peter Buck’s
echoing guitar roar. The second track, “Crush With Eyeliner” has a
great, sexy vibe, courtesy of Peter Buck’s guitar and has Stipe at
his campy best.
Scott Litt’s production is excellent throughout
Monster. It’s safe to say that if you played a track from
Monster to most any R.E.M. fan, they could tell you it came
from this album, even if the title escaped their memory. Fans will
also regard
Monster as the beginning of the end of Bill Berry’s stint as
drummer, something that R.E.M. has never fully recovered from. His
last full work would come with their next album,
New Adventures In Hi-Fi.
Monster is not a career suicide album that would force
people to turn in their copies. In fact, it’s a fairly pedestrian
album. Returning to rock roots after experimenting with techno or
folk is hardly a risky venture (just ask U2 or Radiohead). Still,
when artists return to their “roots”, they can oftentimes paint
themselves into a corner. And
Monster has that inescapable feel of backtracking.
“Strange Currencies,” “Bang and Blame” and “I Took Your Name”
just don’t have that lasting power of earlier R.E.M. songs. And
even though Kurt Cobain professed great admiration for Michael
Stipe, his eulogy to the departed Cobain, “Let Me In” doesn’t have
near the emotional authenticity that it should have.
In essence, as refreshing as it was to hear R.E.M. return to
form, Monster’s novelty quickly staled with hardcore fans. If
listeners want to hear a great R.E.M. rock album, they are most
likely going to throw on
Document or
Fables Of The Reconstruction. Still, that doesn’t mean
Monster is a space filler in your CD tower. Taken as a
whole, the album is surprisingly good. The only problem is that for
fans of R.E.M., it’s hard to look at post-
Document albums as albums and more as stages of development,
or notches on a growth chart for the band.