"REM are one of the few contemporary manifestations of a classically straightforward songwriting rock group that, while adhering to the genre's basic tenets, have created a body of work that both affirms and extends rock's potential to be both articulate and gut-punchingly powerful. They're also one of the few contemporary groups where every album can be read like the next installment in some slow-spooling epic psychodrama, as vocalist and lyricist Michael Stipe works through his obsessions.
They're arguably best when they're at their most hermetic, when Stipe's lyrics combine with the hypnotic shapes of Peter Buck's guitar to form radiant little puzzles that you can tussle with for months. But I still find myself coming back to 1988's Green, undoubtedly one of their most open and inclusive sets to date.
It rocks. Between this and the preceding Document, REM had beefed themselves up, channelling all the transcendental energy of the likes of The Byrds and Moby Grape into a series of crushing, inspired compositions. Lyrically, Stipe was really coming out of himself, wrestling with the need to communicate versus the urge to just curl up into a ball.
The resultant confusion spawned a schizophrenic mix of tracks, from the airy bubblegum of Pop Song 89 and Get Up, through to the venomous drive of Turn You Inside Out and the starkly beautiful World Leader Pretend. And just as it all starts to seem a little too pat, they go out on I Remember California, like a nagging doubt or a blurred photograph."