The packaging for the 25th Anniversary Edition of R.E.M.’s Monster is perfectly appropriate to the turning point this ninth album represented for the group. The five CDs plus a Blu-Ray ae housed in a five-and-a-half-inch hardcover book, the sturdy spine of which mirrors the collective gumption of the band as it deliberately chose to make music decidedly different than the two albums immediately prior to this 1994 release, the massive commercial successes, Out of Time and Automatic For The People.
As described so succinctly (and without melodrama) in the liner essay by Matthew Perpetua—he touches all the bases factually and insightfully– the course the foursome chose was a risky proposition given how those albums had garnered such widespread commercial acceptance. R.E.M had helped define an independent alternative approach to music a decade prior, whether they wanted to admit it or not. In addition, these residents of Athens, Georgia may well have been in something of a defensive posture too, similar to that of the Rolling Stones in the late ’70s when they recorded Some Girls as a reaction to the burgeoning punk movement of that era.
Just as significant for what it represents as what it sounds like, loud electric rock and roll instead of the predominantly acoustic and often orchestrated textures of its immediate predecessors, Monster marked the group’s return to touring after two records of live performance largely relegated to selected promotional appearances in the midst of sequestering themselves in the recording studio. As such, it makes sense the group would return to something of the enigmatic approach of their early records by sublimating Michael Stipe’s singing deeper in the mix.
Even then, however, it’s hard to miss the menacing air of his vocals like that of “Crush with Eyeliner” and even more so “Bang and Blame.” There’s every reason to believe this is the best singing the eccentric frontman has ever done on record and, given how favorably even he regards this ninth album of the group (at least as stated in the interview excerpts within the essay), it’s only natural that retrospect in the form of this twenty-fifth anniversary reissue would by necessity contain remix of the album by its original producer Scott Litt to better highlight his voice.
But it’s not just a matter of taste and/or preference for a more conventional sound. The music sounds less foreboding with Stipe more to the forefront and the guitars less upfront and its claustrophobic airdrops dramatically. Still, the emphasis on Peter buck’s new (at the time) guitar rig remains fascinating as remastered by Greg Calbi in all its jagged, distorted glory: while to some degree riffs like those of “What’s the Frequency Kenneth” recall the loud chording on Document, that record had virtually none of the edge on display here, along with detailed nuances such as bassist Mike Mills’ background vocals that catch the ear as never before. .
As befits the reissue of an album originally conceived as a precursor to touring—-according to Perpetua, at the insistence of drummer Bill Berry—-this anniversary edition contains a complete concert from the Monster tour stop in Chicago. Integrating the new material across a selection from largely the most recent records validates the group’s decision to return to the road and even more so the iconoclastic creation. And, even further to the group’s credit, the setlist is the work of a band eager to emphasize its new work, readily willing to sacrifice a more conventional recapitulation of their formidable discography.
There are some questionable choices of material however. Why, for instance, include “Everybody Hurts” instead of “The One I Love” when the ironic/sarcastic tone of the band’s first ‘hit’ would reside so comfortably next to the arch material from the new album such as “Star 69?” And (“So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry)” sounds like a forced concession to the past, perhaps because, at this point in the near two-hour show, the sextet–including additional musicians Scott McCaughey and Nathan December (who are not introduced)–is in a headlong rush to finish, almost painfully so. At this point too, the otherwise pervasive (and high-pitched) audience noise so prominent in the early going has receded, only to reaffirm the nagging sensation that this otherwise professionally recorded sound from June 3, 1995 is not wholly high fidelity.
The shortcoming in audio quality on the concert recording becomes more egregious when hearing the fifteen demo tracks. Guitars, bass and drums can fill ‘phones or a room, but are equally noteworthy because, sans vocals virtually throughout, there’s barely a hint of the cacophony of the finished album; sounding more like the groundwork for Reckoning-era material, the natural flow of chemistry between R.E.M.’s instrumentalists is remarkable to behold as well. Apart from“Revolution 4-21,” the precursor to a recording that subsequently appeared on the soundtrack to the 1997 film Batman And Robin, none of the fifteen track titles bear any resemblance to their eventual counterparts, but that only turns out to be a salient factor indicative of the spontaneity R.E.M brought to the collective compositional process
In the end, it’s readily possible to shunt aside reservations about this live content because a corollary of it appears on the sixth disc here in the form of the Road Movie concert film. Juxtaposed with Monster in 5.1 Surround Sound (mixed by Elliott Scheiner) and Hi-Resolution Audio (of the original mix) are the half-dozen music videos filmed to promote the album, too. As with the plethora of informal and action photos integrated with the prose (and the song lyrics) in seventy-some pages, there’s a palpable sense of pent-up energy that no doubt reflects the state of mind in the band at that time. As such, it is a truly deluxe set that so comprehensively encompasses this phase of R.E.M.’s career, that it posits the notion that revision isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
