Photo: Anton Corbijn
When R.E.M. released Monster in 1994, they’d gained a reputation as elder statesmen. That may have been partly due to their previous two albums, Out of Time and Automatic For the People, which were masterpieces, but also very mature, and often sombre.
Monster was meant as a way for the band to blow away the cobwebs, taking inspiration from the younger, noisier bands who’d infiltrated the mainstream in the wake of Nirvana.
The results were less aggressive than their peers, and definitely didn’t sound like the acts labelled ‘grunge’. But it did show R.E.M. in a new light.
‘What’s the Frequency, Kenneth’ was the album’s biggest hit, named after something shouted at news anchor Dan Rather by an assailant, and markedly looser than anything from their previous few albums.
On Monster Michael Stipe leaned into his falsetto, and on one song Peter Buck played guitar through a dying amplifier.
But paradoxically for an album intended to be light, its most successful song is the one inspired by genuine pain.
Stipe had befriended Kurt Cobain in the last years of his life, and ‘Let Me In’ conveys his attempts to get through to the younger man, who committed suicide just four months prior to Monster’s release in September.
Stipe’s voice is submerged in Buck’s guitar, which is distorted and drenched in reverb to incredible effect, the song emulating the feeling of being helpless in the face of loss.
Another band who paired pop songwriting with loud guitars had debuted earlier that year.
Weezer were introduced via a simple Spike Jonez-directed clip for ‘Undone - The Sweater Song’, which I remember playing in heavy rotation on Auckland music channel Max TV. The band, who’d appeared from nowhere, were instant stars.
Rivers Cuomo wrote instantly addictive songs, and ‘Buddy Holly’ was massive, as was ‘Say It Ain’t So’. But listening thirty years on, it’s ‘The World Has Turned and Left Me Here’ that’s the clear standout to me.
Patrick Wilson’s kick drum and the steady chug of Bryan Bell’s guitar create a compelling rhythm, and while there’s no real chorus, the verse is more than strong enough. When the song’s melodies converge near its end, it’s a superb guitar pop moment.
Meanwhile in England, two bands paired off against each other by the music press were marrying pop smarts with volume under the banner of Britpop.
1994 saw Oasis debut with Definitely Maybe, and Blur released their third, and possibly best album, Parklife.
The band moved away from the shoegaze and baggy influences of their debut towards a more guitar-pop sound, and cast a cynical eye toward modern Britain.
Most impressive is the way Damon Albarn began to diversify, running through synth-pop, new wave, and punk influences, miles away from what was happening in America, and all lovingly produced.
The tracks that have best stood the test of time might be its ballads, especially ‘This is a Low’, and ‘To the End’, a song that fully earns its lush orchestration.
