Bad religion

The breakthrough fourth album, reissued with a trove of demos...In 1986, REM’s elevation to umpty-million-selling ubiquity, dominant influence and stadium marquees appeared other than inevitable. The Georgia quartet had released, in breakneck succession, two critically adored albums (1983’s Murmur, 1984’s Reckoning) and a third (1985’s Fables Of The Reconstruction) which was a much more expansive but nonetheless nervy and flawed record.

One of my highlights at Club Uncut last year was an epic show by Philadelphia’s Kurt Vile, which spiralled off into some phenomenally unstructured solo reveries, during which Vile seemed to be carving an unusual and comparatively original new space for folkish singer-songwriters.

More righteous, redemptive, endlessly literate rock’n’roll. But this time, things are rather more personal...

It’s ridiculous, for sure. But it’s also ridiculously good. Plus Matt Bellamy Q&A

Final trawl of the vaults turns up a double CD’s worth of lost sounds by the Scottish folk starsailors

Shiny hippy people: intoxicating psychedelic grooves from the New Mexican desert

A few weeks ago now, I blogged about the third Brightblack Morning Light, “Motion To Rejoin”. In the interim, I’ve played it to death, decided it’s one of my favourite albums of 2008, and written about it at length for the new issue of Uncut.

Stipe, Buck and Mills are back on form in Manchester

REM are firing up “Orange Crush”, their veiled commentary on the plight of a promising young buck packed off to serve in Vietnam, and 40,000 people are on their feet, high-clapping for all they’re worth. Later, Michael Stipe will urge everyone to “put your hands up in the air” prior to a song about a dead comedian and lunar conspiracies. “Man On The Moon” kicks in, and everybody starts hugging each other. Hugging! This seems too weird. Since when did REM become everyone’s favourite feel-good stadium band?

Minus the shock factor, and the subversion – could it still be funny?