Accelerate
R.E.M.
(Warner Bros.)

R.E.M.'s first studio album in four years opens with "Living Well Is the Best Revenge," a thrust of wild, ringing guitars over which singer Michael Stipe fires off a striking, gruff vocal. "All your sad and lost apostles," he growls, "hum my name and flare their nostrils."

Like most of the lyrics on Accelerate, the lines are too figurative to reveal definite statements, but you can't help but wonder if the song is a thinly veiled response to the pundits who have largely dissed the band's past five releases. Considering R.E.M.'s new studio album holds its own with anything in the fallen college-rock-turned-pop-stars' canon, this is a fine time for the band to slip in a retort.

Accelerate's 11 tracks are compelling throughout: intelligent, highly emotive and undeniably catchy. Uptempo jangle-pop and reverb-soaked indie-rock numbers are offset by tender, slow pop offerings like "Until the Day Is Done," a state-of-affairs meditation in which Stipe addresses ongoing war and economic woe without clobbering the listener with slogans. No names or specific events are mentioned, but it's fairly clear the country to which the singer aims such lines as, "The battle's been lost, the war is not won/ An addled republic, a bitter refund."

In the tradition of gospel music, though, the hymn-like song manages to provide the listener with hope — there's more than a hint of perseverance in Stipe's distinctive voice as he implores you to carry on "Until the Day Is Done." The closest R.E.M. comes to direct protest is "Mr. Richard," a song about a reckless leader who is either Cheney, Nixon or, if you stick with the literal reading, a piano-playing tyrant of a choir leader. Ominous guitars and a dark lyric about a mad mariner prepping for Armageddon make "Sing for the Submarine" sound like the strongest Pink Floyd song in 30 years. Doomsday rears its head again on the disc's closer, "I'm Gonna DJ," a brawny rocker that finds Stipe issuing gallows humor that would make the late Warren Zevon grin.

Accelerate's first single, "Supernatural Superserious," features a classic rock riff and the 48-year-old Stipe thoughtfully capturing the alienation of adolescence as trenchantly as he did on anything R.E.M. released during its IRS records days of the '80s.

For anyone who lost faith in the band ever truly recovering from the 1997 retirement of drummer Bill Berry, Accelerate comes as a welcome surprise, one that brilliantly transforms anxiety and despair into rock 'n' roll salvation. 4 stars —Wade Tatangelo

Consolers of the Lonely
THE RACONTEURS
(Third Man/Warner Bros.)

Contrary to myth, lightning can strike in the same place twice. In the case of The Raconteurs, it didn't. Not that Consolers of the Lonely is a bust. Its mixture of post-punk abandon, classic rock riffs and chords and some proggy digressions is often a winning formula, but the magic the quartet made on its debut album is largely absent from this sophomore effort. A lot of Consolers feels stitched together, as if too many disparate melody sections and instrumental forays were forced into one song. For instance, "Rich Kid Blues" starts as a ballad and then builds to a big pompous crescendo worthy of Kansas. "These Stones Will Shout" glides in as a Zeppelin-esque acoustic number and circuitously finds its way to a thunderous conclusion akin to The Who. Not everything's like this: "You Don't Understand Me," which bears the strong imprint of co-frontman Brendan Benson, is a sublime slice of midtempo power-pop with a resplendent chorus driven by tart harmonies (and a nice bridge, to boot). The song acts a welcome tonic to Jack White's urgent bleating. The album ends with White's "Carolina Drama," and I can't tell if it's homage to the murder-ballad genre or a joke. Regardless, the song comes off as smug. I get this nagging sense that in some instances The Ractonteurs, White especially, are trying to put one over on us. I could be wrong, of course. 3 stars —Eric Snider

Cure All
ROBERT WALTER
(Palmetto)

There's something intrinsically seductive about a Hammond organ backed by bass and drums. You don't have to be a jazz-o-phile to get it, but the format leaves lots of room for improvisational and harmonic exploration. New Orleans-based, jam-scene-affiliated Robert Walter is joined by legendary NOLA drummer Johnny Vidacovich and bassist James Singleton; collectively they bring the heavy funk, the second line, some rhumba and shuffles and a bit of post-bop. Call it populist jazz — Walter has a knack for writing gluey instrumental hooks. He's not a chops hound but has a way of finding those ear-pleasing soul notes. Walter also plays quite a bit of piano and Fender Rhodes (on one track), but his greatest facility is on the Hammond B-3. 3.5 stars —ES

This article appears in Apr 16-22, 2008.