R.E.M.
r.e.m.IX
(self-released)

The subversive Web distribution in 2001 of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is one of the year's most significant music success stories. Pushed by their label to make their already completed record more radio-friendly, the band took a powder, built enormous fan interest by distributing the album online and released it on Nonesuch Records. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot went on to become one of the biggest critical hits of 2002.

Now, with the introduction of r.e.m.IX, pop veterans R.E.M. are jumping into the online distribution game. But the artistically pure motivations that spurred Wilco's breakthrough are a world apart from the driving engine of R.E.M.'s latest ... well, let's call it a collection of tracks, because it's not really an album. R.e.m.IX is 10 remixes of six different songs from Reveal, an album that stands among the band's best work.

The new disc, available for free download in mp3 format at R.E.M.'s official website, is a puzzling collection of rescrambled hits from Reveal, thrown together in a senseless track order and displayed with little fanfare.

It's not really fair to demand musical brilliance from remixes, although it can be done. But even non-ambitious remixes can preserve some essential part of the original track while funking the hell out of the backing track to create something more danceable, more flash-in-pan absorbing and more fun.

But fun is exactly what r.e.m.IX lacks. Its plodding, confused and generally ham-handed tracks seem to have been edited by Ebenezer Scrooge — aside from a milligram of desultory scratching and the odd foreign-accented sample, these tracks are driven by repetitive vocal samples from the original songs, backed up by insipid keyboard work that The Shamen could easily put to shame.

A remix of "The Lifting" by Knobody and Dahoud Darien is the worst of the lot, and its flaws are emblematic of several other tracks. This semi-funky whiteboy disco snooze mix takes a song that originally boasted an inexorable pace and a lovely sweeping majesty, and re-creates it as an awkward collection of electronic bloops set to a monotonous beat that could easily be found on an album of Korean glam-pop. Much of the keyboard work sounds like it was taken directly from a Casio keyboard's pre-programmed samples — an optimistic first-time listener will likely strain at the speaker, waiting for Wesley Willis to appear and rescue the song. He never does.

The album is a true puzzle. Even during the worst moments of Monster and New Adventures in Hi-Fi, it seemed clear that Michael Stipe and co. had a clear idea of the sound they were going for, and the impact they hoped to elicit from their fans and detractors. But r.e.m.IX doesn't seem to have be guided by anything other than a ban on cutting loose.

The culprits behind this Web-distributed mass of mediocrity have serious musical backgrounds, but apparently no clear idea of what they were trying to do with this particular collection of tracks. They aren't experimental; half-assed electronic remixes have been a staple of the pop music world since the late '80s. In fact, at its best moments (like the Jamie Candiloro remix of "I'll Take the Rain,") r.e.m.IX recalls the good-naturedly pretentious hits that made Depeche Mode a household name.

The album isn't fun; it's stuffy as a British butler, without the good manners.

And it certainly isn't going to be winning any prizes for musical excellence.

To the band's credit, r.e.m.IX is free, and it's a good precedent — bands that stoke their fan base and take advantage of the unlimited distribution potential of the Web are likely to be rewarded in the long run. But while it's hard to resent something that's been given out for free, a listener will hard-pressed to sit through r.e.m.IX without wanting their 51 minutes back.

— James Norton (jim@flakmag.com)