ALBUMS OF THE YEAR 2011: #9 REAL ESTATE DAYS

Albums of the Year 2011: #9

Real Estate - Days

I have no grand, theoretical justifications for why I like Real Estate (well, that's not entirely true, but none that I'm going to waste space on here, anyway). Listening to them makes me happy, and if you can come up with a better reason to listen to music, then I'm all ears. Whenever I listened to Real Estate's self-titled debut (an act that was the subject of the very first post on this blog in its pre-blogspot days), it was for me a very real question whether or not they could top "Beach Comber." The first song on that album, it was so perfect, so fully realized, so clear in its aesthetic and components that it didn't seem possible the band could ever improve on it. There were other great songs on the album ("Suburban Dogs," "Suburban Beverage," and "Snow Days" being the best of the rest), but nothing quite succeeded in capturing both the breezy and melancholy sides of the band so well. Amazingly, they better it once on Days, and at least two other songs give "Beach Comber" a run for its money.

My point of reference for Real Estate is always early R.E.M., right around Reckoning, and Days does nothing to change that: "It's Real," a stunning two minutes of guitar pop that actually makes "whoa-oh" vocals feel light and fresh rather than tired and cliched, would slot nicely in between "Harborcoat" and "Little America." What's so wonderful about Days, though, is its intimacy and easy charm (especially on the ostensibly "epic" album closer "All the Same"). This isn't music that goes out of its way to impress you; the band has a light touch, confident enough to let the songs do what they will without fuss (it's no coincidence that the album leads off with a song called "Easy"). For music that so clearly fits in with the past half decade or so's revival of the 1980s, though, the songs on Days are surprisingly bittersweet in their nostalgia. Memories are what's left of the past here, and not necessarily good ones, filled with longing for innocence, for hope, for love--the tenderness of the music and singing has a tendency to mask just how brutal songs like "Green Aisles" and "Wonder Years" really are. The triumph of the album--of the band's career, really--and a serious contender for song of the year in my book is "Municipality," which takes everything that "Beach Comber" did so well and amplifies it to create the kind of gorgeous melancholy that will keep misunderstood teenagers in their bedrooms for days. Few songs have captured the pain of being far away from someone so simply and so effectively: "How can I feel free / when all I want to be / is by your side / in that municipality?" The small dramas of suburban life, then, but with a killer set of tunes.

REAL UPDATES ON THE WAY; FOR NOW: THIS

It feels like it's been forever since I've updated, but I think it's only been a week. Every time I've sat down to write something it's felt like there's been fifteen other things I should be working on (and usually there actually have been about twelve).

Anyway, some thoughts from my morning commute:

1. Real Estate's new album Days could not have come out at a better time. Smart marketing for it to appear just as the weather took a turn for the cooler (and it's pretty cold here today: there was frost this morning on my walk to the bus stop)--I would not want to listen to this album in the summer, but in the fall it sounds just right. In a lot of ways, Days seems like it could fit into the category Nitsuh Abebe describes in this article on "indie" as the new "adult contemporary:" it's fairly slick and well-crafted (that most damning of adjectives); I could play it for my parents and I doubt they'd find much fault in it; it vaguely sounds like a lot of other music that people would describe as "pleasant." There are certainly enough potential ways for Real Estate to seem dull: they really only trade in two or three emotions (nostalgia, yearning, resignation) and only deliver those emotions in about two styles (jangle-y and breezy). Hell, when they change key it's a pretty big deal. I can't help but love the band, though. They remind me of early R.E.M. (to pick a famous example--"It's Real" wouldn't sound out of place on Reckoning [in fact, I often pair it with "So. Central Rain" in my mind for some reason]) and The Postage Stamps (to use a not-so-famous [read: not famous at all] example; check out "The Ocean" and tell me it wouldn't fit right in). The high point on Days for me, and at this point it's a strong contender for the high point in their career, is "Municipality:" despite seeming so laidback and straightforward, the song captures a kind of vaguely haunted and slightly wistful vibe that I'm a sucker for. There really isn't the sense of mystery that made R.E.M.'s early stuff so fascinating, but there's a delightfully human aspect to Real Estate that no amount of increased studio polish can quite mask. I don't think Days is going to be my pick for album of the year (it wouldn't seem right somehow--it's just so unassuming), but until winter hits it's the perfect music for the weather.

2. "Ray of Light," a song I've long had a bizarre fascination with (I'm convinced that there's a way to use the video to introduce the concept of postmodernism to students), sounds (and looks) like "Big Time Sensuality" (either version) with the fun and the sensuality taken out. I know it's supposed to feel and sound sexy, and it does a great job at providing a reasonable facsimile of a sexy dance track, but it's because the song tells me it's supposed to feel and sound that way (as opposed to say, this, which to me does a great job of striving for the same thing as "Ray of Light" but also of being incredibly fun thanks to those neon synths in the chorus) that it ends being neither, really. It also helps that both Bjork and Karen O are not "good" dancers--the seeming transcendence that their dancing communicates at key moments seems much more genuine than Madonna's dancing throughout "Ray of Light." All that being said, it's a great song.

And another thought from later in the day:

3. Julie London's "Cry Me a River," which came on in the barbershop as I was getting my hair cut, isn't too far from something that could've been on Third. I wouldn't be shocked to hear it coming out of either "Small" or "Hunter," and even after "The Rip" it wouldn't be too much of a stretch. Actually, the more that I think about it, a cover of this song might result in something that fits nicely between Portishead and Third--I'd at least be more interested in it than "Chase the Tear."

R.E.M.: A BRIEF STORY ABOUT BEING AND NOT BEING A FAN

Taking a break from grading for a moment--why do I always leave myself with the majority of papers to finish grading the day before I've said I'd give them back?--I thought I'd offer this short comment on R.E.M.'s breakup. I was at one point, from grade six through grade nine, a more intense fan of R.E.M. than of any other cultural force/object. I still have a poster of Michael Stipe in my bedroom back home. The "Daysleeper" single was the first CD I ever bought--I still think the version of "Sad Professor" on there trumps the version on Up.* Obviously, given the past tense above, I am no longer such a fan. I can trace the decline in my fanhood to two things, basically.

1. The internet: we got the internet at my house in grade eight. While this was initially a boon to my obsession--I could find out more information about the band, albeit on a painfully slow dial-up connection--it also made it possible for me to find out about all sorts of new and exciting music (although again, thanks to said dial-up connection, I could often only read about this music, not hear it). In grade nine, I had Napster, and I started listening to all sorts of stuff that made R.E.M. seem kind of tame and pedestrian.

2.  Reveal: I've often found that discovering a band in the midst of the down time between albums can be trying--especially if it's a long wait until the next album. If it's an established band, by the time I've gone through the back catalogue, I have pretty set opinions about the band's sound. The new album can often be something of a let down, and this was especially devastating when I was young and had an astonishing amount of libidinal energy invested in bands. R.E.M. is the prototypical example. As Up was the second album I bought on CD (after Weezer's Blue Album, which, shockingly, was cheaper than the "Daysleeper" single), and as I considered it my favourite album and R.E.M.'s best, I was stunned to discover that I didn't particularly like Reveal. In the wake of some of the music I'd started listening to thanks to the internet (especially sites like Pitchfork and Allmusic), Reveal was boring. Its electronics were nowhere near as exciting as Kid A's, for example (say what you will about that album, but it was genuinely revolutionary for a kid in the suburbs whose only experience of electronic music was "Firestarter," Fatboy Slim's You've Come A Long Way, Baby, and the Chemical Brothers' Dig Your Own Hole).

It's been years since I've actually paid attention to R.E.M.--basically since the release of Reveal--and even the kind of "return to form" reviews that surrounded Accelerate and Collapse Into Now couldn't lure me back into the fold. For one thing, R.E.M.'s form, in my eyes, was shaped by the manner in which I experienced them. Reckoning and New Adventures in Hi-Fi, Murmur and Monster, everything they'd done existed simultaneously for me. No single album they released could possibly recapture my sense of their sound and scope.

I'm not horrifically upset by the band's breakup. I'm not even really upset. I am a little wistful, though, as I sit here and think back to the hours I spent flipping through the CD booklets and listening to the music, trying to piece together what the songs were about. The early albums especially, Murmur through Fables of the Reconstruction, were as culturally alien to me as anything I'd ever heard--I knew nothing of the lore of the South, and I shared no cultural common ground with what Stipe mumbled about. I have no grand conclusion to draw from R.E.M.'s breakup, but it has given me a chance to go back and re-listen to some fantastic music. So, here are some of my favourites.

"Leave"

"Country Feedback"

"You"

*Another source for my fascination with representations of academics? Perhaps. I didn't think of that until right this minute.