Thank god for independent record stores. Back in the
70s and early 80s record stores were like the literary salons of Paris
in the 20s and 30s. A place for like-minded souls to gather, passionately
discussing and debating pop music and all it’s permutations.
Fanatical record collector Peter Buck worked in such a
store, Wuxtry Records in Athens, Georgia. That’s where Buck met
Michael Stipe. The two bonded over a mutual love of essential punk
bands like Television, Wire and the Patti Smith Group.
With Buck on guitar and Stipe handling vocals, they decided
to form a band. R.E.M. firmly coalesced when the pair hooked up with
drummer Bill Berry and bassist Mike Mills.
Back in the early 80s, if you found someone else who liked
R.E.M., that was like knowing a secret handshake. Def Leppard ,
Loverboy and Foreigner ruled the airwaves. Bands like R.E.M.
operated under the radar. They were special, they were different and
they were yours alone.
By 1982 the band recorded their Chronic Town EP. That
created enough of a buzz to get R.E.M. signed to Indie label, I.R.S.
Records. The following year they released their first long-player,
Murmur. Despite minimal radio airplay, Rolling Stone named it their
album of the year, beating out mega-sellers like the Police and
Michael Jackson.
Relentless touring and a string of critically acclaimed records
positioned R.E.M. (along with U2), as the Forefathers of the
Alternative Rock movement.
Even after the band signed with major label Warner Brothers,
R.E.M. continued to capture the zeitgeist of the times. Anyone who
came of age during the Postpunk/I Want My MTV era has a favorite
R.E.M. song. Be it the jangly “Radio Free Europe,” the Dylanesque
apocalypse of “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel
Fine)” or the achingly vulnerable “Everybody Hurts.”
The band managed to carry the Alt. Rock torch for 30 years.
Their final album, Collapse Into Now, was as vital as anything
recorded in their prime.
R.E.M. announced their break-up in 2011. Sure, it seemed
inevitable, but millions of Gen. X. fans felt as though their parents
were divorcing. But anyone feeling a vague sense of separation
anxiety can rest easy, Peter Buck has just released his self-titled
debut.
It makes perfect sense that Buck would be the first member
of R.E.M. to take the solo plunge. Throughout his tenure with the band
Buck has always taken time for side projects like the Minus 5, Taturatura
and the Venus 3 (featuring British singer-songwriter Robyn Hitchcock).
The album opens with “10 Million B.C.” Blending scratchy,
Caveman vocals, surf guitar breaks, a voodoo backbeat and a (broken)
toy piano solo. It’s a hallucinatory mindbender musically referencing
Cramps, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and the 13th Floor Elevators in
less than three minutes!
Buck wears his 60s influences on his sleeve on three tracks.
“Some Kind Of Velvet Sunday Morning” is a drowsy homage to Lee
Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra’s classic duet, “Some Velvet Morning.”
Buck splits vocal duties with Annalisa Tornfelt, Chloe Johnson and
Scott McCaughey. The jangly instrumentation is provided by e bow
boomerang guitars, autoharp, pump organ and glockenspiel.
“Nothing Matters” is a shimmery pastiche that echoes the
Left Banke and the Turtles. Swirly organ fills and a soaring 12 string
Rickenbacker solo camouflage the bleak lyrics.
Matching click-track percussion, modal guitar riffs and a
sawing violin, “Arrive Without Traveling” is a trippy, psychedelic
roundelay. The vaguely East Indian underpinnings recall the Beatles
during their Maharishi period.
Who knew Peter Buck was such a Blues aficionado?
He covers two seminal Blues cuts here, “Give Me Back My Wig”
and “L.V.M.F.” The former is a rollicking Hound Dog Taylor
song anchored by a locomotive beat and spiraling 12 string guitar
chords. Buck’s vocals straddle the line between lascivious
and sepulchral.
Opening with cloying Harpsichord trills, “L.V.M.F”
almost feels like a lost Patridge Family track. But the sweet
instrumental loop provides an antidote to the scabrous
(and expletive laced) Sonny Boy Williamson rant originally
titled “Little Village.”
This is a solo effort in name only. Buck receives copious
support from Minus 5 compadres, drummer Bill Riefin and guitarist
Scott McCaughey. Bass duties are split between Mike Mills (R.E.M.)
and Ric Menck (Velvet Crush). Also helping out are Patti Smith Group
guitarist Lenny Kaye and Sleater-Kinney vocalist Corin Tucker.
All these players come together on the album’s centerpiece,
“Nothing Means Nothing.” Quicksilver guitar riffs, a tribal beat
and Farfisa organ fills provide a solid foundation. Corin Tucker
channels her inner Patti Smith, handling lead vocals. The lyrics are
a Nihilist’s delight…”Everything is gray and beautiful in the dying
light, so is that all there is, another dead day gone/ Dead leaves on
the ground, old men never around, And you ask me why nothing
means nothing to me.”
Other highlights here include the ghostly 12 bar blues of
“Hard Old World,” the frenzied farewell of “So Long Johnny,” the
droning instrumental, “Migraine,” and the East L.A. funk of
“Vaso Loco.”
“Nowhere No Way,” is a twangy loser’s lament offering
this philosophical nugget: “Sometimes when you fuck up, it
can focus the mind.”
The album closes with a Garage Rock workout, “I’m Alive.”
Although it’s a cover of an old Tommy James & The Shondells
number, Buck makes it his own. The lyrics offer up a perfect mantra
for Buck’s current state of mind…”I’m alive and I’m sitting here
doing my thing/ I’m alive and I’m seeing things mighty clear today.”
This album is only available on vinyl. No CD, or downloads
or file-sharing. That seems perfectly apropos for a record collector
like Buck. He seems to be saying this is something special, and you
need to make an effort to enjoy it.
By delving into his influences and re-interpreting favorites
Buck has made it possible to look toward the future, and start a new
musical chapter of his life.
