From the directionless guidebook of "Maps and Legends" to the weary conductor of "Driver 8" to the definition of being lost in "Cant Get There From Here," there is no sense of place on this entire record which seems permanent. This extends to the Kensey clan on "Old Man Kensey," to the man who split his house in two on "Life and How to Live It," to the unsafe, inaccessible highways of "Green Grow the Rushes" and to the fading nighttime lights of "Kohoutek." So much of Fables seeks to find something there, only to reveal there's no there there.
So comes "Good Advices," the penultimate track, with what amounts to an instruction booklet for those who don't feel they have a place to belong:
When you greet a stranger, look at his shoes
Keep your money in your shoes, put your trouble behind
When you greet a stranger, look at her hands
Keep your money in your hands, keep your travel behind
Who are you going to call for?
What do you have to say?
Keep your hat on your head
Home is a long way away
At the end of the day I'll forget your name
I'd like it here if I could leave and see you from a long way away
When you greet a stranger, look at his shoes
Keep your memories in your shoes, keep your travel behind
Who are you going to call for?
What do you have to say?
Keep your hat on your head
Home is a long way away
At the end of the day, when there are no friends
When there are no lovers
Who are you going to call for?
What do you have to change?
A familiar face, a foreign place
I'll forget your name
I'd like it here if I could leave and see you from a long way away
Who are you going to call for?
What do you have to say?
Keep your hat on your head
Home is a long way away
"Good Advices," one of the most sublime and evocative tracks R.E.M. ever recorded, closes the loop on "time and distance" with delicate perfection. There is no stopping, no destination, just the travel. The journey is where the contentment comes, not the arrival. A line as sweet and intricate as, "I'd like it here if I could leave and see you from a long way away" (which very closely leans on Robert Frost at his best) drives this point home once and for all. It's strangers everywhere, the faces and places are familiar but the names remain a mystery. Don't bother stopping or even taking your hat off (a decidedly "inside" gesture), because the journey must continue. Be polite, be cordial, but be cautious. And keep moving.
Intentional or not, the band is prescient enough to add to this theme by providing "Good Advices" with a rarely used fade-in from Mike Mills and Bill Berry, with Peter Buck's first chord serving as the starting gun. Michael Stipe's voice possesses a slight echo to it, as if sung by someone "a long way away," and the tenderness with which he croons adds to the idea that comfort may indeed come, but not in a way that most people expect.
Like "Carnival of Sorts" and "Pilgrimage" and "Little America" (there's that song again) before it, "Good Advices" is the child of a band that up to this point had spent so much of its existence on the road, moving from one tiny gig to the next and always moving towards...something. Most bands lead these transient existences in the early years, some lead them forevermore. R.E.M. is no different in that sense; the difference is they spent so much time cataloging it and writing about it.
In a culture built on grand storytelling and the generational narrative, R.E.M. uses Fables of the Reconstruction to fit their own story into the south's long, long road home. "Good Advices" is their navigational primer. The difference this time is at the end of the day, we won't forget their name.
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