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6/23/2025, 11:34:32 PM
>And that baton ends up in Find the River, at the end of the album, a subdued existential plea that echoes many nostalgic refrains of singer-songwriters like Gordon Lightfoot and John Denver. The arrangements are intricate without being mannered, as demonstrated by the baroque prelude for organ and cello of Sweetness Follows, the airy folk-rock ballad Try Not to Breathe, and the mournful fantasy for piano and orchestra Nightswimming—songs that seem acoustic but actually hide a wealth of background sounds. The only remnants of rock and roll are found in Ignoreland, the obligatory political song, and The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, surprisingly cheerful for this record, though both would have been minor tracks even on previous albums. What harms the album is its rather monotonous program and soporific tone—or, if you prefer, the lack of tracks that rouse the listener from the stupor into which Stipe’s tone wants, and succeeds, to plunge them. While the band must be credited for having reached a very sophisticated level of storytelling, the fact remains that many of these songs are no more original or brilliant than many mainstream pop ballads. Considered by many to be R.E.M.’s masterpiece, Automatic is more than anything else a senile and self-indulgent record, which stands more as a work of sophisticated pop than as one of innovative rock.
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