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R.E.M.

"Reveal"

R.E.M.'s 1991 opus "Out of Time" contained several firsts for the Athens, Ga., quartet. Not only did the record feature "Losing My Religion," the group's highest-charting hit, but it also marked R.E.M.'s first attempt at rap ("Radio Song"), and its first bad songs ("Shiny Happy People," "Near Wild Heaven"). Prior to '91, R.E.M. issued a string of brilliant records arguably unmatched by any other modern band. The success of "Out of Time" changed the group in myriad subtle ways. Mostly, R.E.M. started taking itself a lot more seriously, reflected in the sense of brooding that has marked much of its '90s output. That success has sometimes been a good thing, because the band has produced a whole slew of great tunes in the last decade. Yet there's something missing in the group's recent attempts at grand musical statements, as if for the first time, the mighty R.E.M is feeling gravity's pull. Continuing in that tradition is the just-released "Reveal," which sounds exactly like you'd think R.E.M. circa 2001 would. The tempos never rise above room temperature as the group � joined by a small army of backing musicians � seems to be comfortably ensconced in the lukewarm blanket of mainstream acceptability. "The Lifting," lauded as a triumphant return-to-form, is a fairly lackluster beginning to another fairly lackluster album from this once untouchable band. The jangly, orchestrated gallop of "Imitation of Life" could be any song off "Out of Time," and "Summer Turns to High" is another unwinning attempt at The Beach Boys. "Saturn Returns" might've been called "Nightswimming Returns" (not necessarily a bad thing), and "Beachball" is a horn-and-string-laden snoozer that caps a four-song borefest that grinds the record to a halt. "She Just Wants To Be," which crackled with energy at the band's concerts earlier this year, is given the "unplugged" treatment on "Reveal" with mixed results. It's still a great track, but the widely circulated live versions are far superior. The studio "She" succumbs to the wall-of-sound that surrounds most of R.E.M.'s latter-day recordings. "Reveal," like most of its '90s work, is buried in a lush soundscape of cooing organs, melodic pianos, chirping keyboards, orchestras of guitar and symphonic string sections. At times one wishes the band would crank up the amps and pound out a track without all the extras � a strategy that made albums like "Reckoning" positively bristle with energy. Despite a creeping sense of self-consciousness, Michael Stipe remains one of rock's great singers, a crooner whose lilting vocals haven't lost a step in all these years. Rightfully, R.E.M.'s music continues to center around the singer, and Stipe more than delivers on every "Reveal" track. "I've Been High" is as gorgeous as anything he's done to date � though the song's lack of discernible guitar makes you think it was an outtake from 1999's "Up." What "Reveal" lacks is relevancy, the undefinable quality that made the band's early works indispensable. For the first time in its auspicious career, R.E.M. seems to be trying too hard.

Action Figure Party

"Action Figure Party"

A studio stalwart and former member of alt-rock trio Geggy Tah, Greg Kurstin has made a few friends over the years. (At age 12, he played keyboards on the first Dweezil Zappa album and was recently found tickling the ivories on The Red Hot Chili Pepper's "Californication.") This fact is never more apparent than on Kurstin's newest offering, "Action Figure Party," which finds the multi-instrumentalist jamming alongside a slew of well-known and under-the-radar musician pals in a '70s soundtrack-style groove fest. Sean Lennon, Flea, former Red Kross drummer Brian Reitzell and Dr. Dre/Eminem producer Mike Elizondo are but a few of the guests appearing at Kurstin's fete. While this musical summit may sound like a breath of fresh air, it's also mired in the feel-good vibe of rich kids who spend more time parking their expensive autos in garages than playing in them. Though Kurstin has obviously been endowed with years of high-dollar music lessons, his occasional turns at the mike find him singing with about as much pain and suffering as a Teletubby. Of course, one has to actually experience pain and suffering to relate it, which is surely why Kurstin phoned so many buddies to help him with this mostly instrumental project. It was a good call: The guest stars mostly make genuine contributions to "Action Figure Party." Yogi infuses "Everybody Ready" with a scuzzy slice of steely fretboard work, and Cibo Matto vocalist Miho Hatori lifts "Clock Radio" from swamp to the stratosphere. The cool jazz of "Flow" features a surprisingly tasteful Flea on bass, ending the album on a high note. Unfortunately, other attendees show up with party favors straight from a box of Cracker Jacks. Having Sean Lennon on board as a guest turntablist is always an underwhelming proposition, and the inheritor of rock's most famous DNA once again proves why he should never think of Julian as a mere "half brother" � they're the talentless twins of modern music! At least Julian had the decency to squander his inheritance away from the public eye � a notion that should be occurring to Kurstin any second now.