Creative paralysis

I've been immensely enjoying the new R.E.M. album "Accelerate," which to me sounds very much like a throwback effort from the Athens trio. After a trio of lackluster discs that I just couldn't connect with, "Accelerate" combines the raw power and dark, sociopolitical fury of their 80's work.

In trying to figure out why this resurgence seemingly came out of nowhere, I just came across an article that makes perfect sense. On their last few albums, guitarist Peter Buck said, singer Michael Stipe and bassist Mike Mills preferred to spend so much time in the studio, jamming and rewriting and tweaking the dials in the search for perfection that the creative process turned into so much navel-gazing.

According to Buck, "I never liked that ... I always complained and I always suggested that we work quicker and more spontaneously. The other guys weren't into it. I think maybe the reception (to 'Around the Sun') got kind of shocked them and made them realize ... I was right, we can't work like this any longer."

Each of the songs on "Accelerate" sounds like a first take, natural and unrefined and from the gut, kind of like a John McCain soundbite circa 1999 -- while their recent work has sounded much more like a McCain speech of more recent vintage, overthought and prevaricating and trying to be all things to all people.

For me, the creative process always functions best when I've got less time to work. It's not the best way to run a business, as life can get pretty hectic around deadline time, but I do my best work under pressure when I know I don't have days or weeks to pore over every phrase, every sentence, every idea to make sure it's fully fleshed out. In other words, when I trust my gut, or don't leave myself any other choice but to trust my gut, that's when my work shines.

For example, I'm not much for giving speeches, but I was chosen by my high school classmates to deliver the commencement address at our graduation ceremony. I had at least a week to write the speech, but thankfully our administration didn't require that I turn in a rough draft for their approval, so typical of my preferred style, I didn't write it until the last minute.

And I mean that almost literally. The ceremony started at 7:30 p.m. on graduation night, and at 5:30 p.m. I figured I'd better at least put my thoughts in order on paper. I knew all along what I was going to say -- I based my speech on Robert Fulgham's classic piece "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," long before that became a cliche. I just didn't put pen to paper until two hours before I stepped up to the podium. And the speech, if I do say so myself, was awesome. I haven't written anything that poignant or relevant since. (OK, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it sucks to peak at 18.)

Anyway, that's how I work best, and apparently, that's how R.E.M. works best, too. Kudos to them for figuring it out.