Second Guessing: R.E.M.’s Reckoning at 40
What makes the band’s sophomore set better than Murmur
After a head-turning debut that put not only themselves but their whole region on the map and helped to define a whole genre of music, a Southern band was under pressure for their mid-decade follow-up.
But they came through, proving that they were no fluke, with a strong second album that featured an illustration on the cover and what would become some of the band’s signature songs. Lynyrd Skynyrd was really on a roll… Oops, wrong band. But that was still the same story for R.E.M. one decade later.
After their 1983 debut Murmur made music writers drool with enthusiasm, R.E.M. had become darlings of what was then called ‘indie rock,’ a DIY follow-up to punk/new wave. Above all else, singer Michael Stipe (whose buried vocals make some wags call the album ‘Mumble’) and Peter Buck’s chiming guitar, which dealt in phrases and hooks instead of solos, set the tone for the unique sound of the band. Buck’s Rickenbacker recalled The Byrds’ Roger McGuinn but the way he paired with Stipe’s sweet emotive groan was more in line with the sensitive singer and distinct guitarist combo that the Smiths would pursue around then too. Actually, if Buck was more of a Ramones fan, their songs would be proto-Emo (thankfully we don’t live in that alternative universe) but when their music hit a crawling pace, it’s more like they’re inventing goth-pop, paving the way for Lordes and Camila Cabello. Yet, the band also had a Steely Dan vibe to them too as they created upbeat/bright music over unhappy, dark musings, though nowhere near as misanthropic.
That’s not even mentioning Mike Mills’ driving bass or Bill Berry’s subtle, versatile drum styling (read Robert Dean Lurie’s Begin the Begin bio to really appreciate that). Both of them were important components of the band’s sound too though oddly enough, Mills wasn’t entirely welcome in the band at first and Berry always had reservations about not only drumming but also initially being in the band, at first considering fellow Athens-ites Love Tractor instead. Mills was also important to their sound as his sympathetic singing wasn’t your traditional back-up vocals – instead of mimicking Stipe, he would often go off on another, similar vocal line, almost as a counterpoint. And while no one in the band was a virtuoso on their instrument, they were all impressive players regardless.
R.E.M. also put their own locale on the map, even if the B-52’s and Pylon had beat them to it. Athens, Georgia was a remote college town that bred all of this creativity and helped get recognition for other bands in the area, including Tractor and Oh OK, featuring Lynda Stipe on vocals [admittedly I worked with them on a reissue]. While 70’s Southern Rock was on the decline in the early part of the next decade, with the Allman Brothers broken up and Skynyrd sadly gone, the Athen quartet were now redefining what ‘Southern rock’ was in the Me-Too Decade.
Indie rock was another way R.E.M. made waves in the biz then. After putting their debut single on the small Atlanta label Hib-Tone, they went with I.R.S. Records, distributed by A&M, and became label-mates with The Go-Go’s. Between I.R.S., SST, Twin/Tone and others, the early 80’s was a milestone era for great music on smaller labels, much like the early rock and roll of the mid/late 50’s. Though the catch-all term ‘alternative’ was dreamed up a decade later, the likes of R.E.M. were something truly different than the big booming music on the charts, creating something much more subtler that would soon be picked up on by the C86 indie pop scene in the UK.
If that wasn’t enough, R.E.M. were also darlings of ‘college rock,’ where the album was broadcast everywhere on higher education stations, including my own school in Upstate New York. In fact, when we weren’t playing their debut on the air, we’d go back to our dorm rooms and listen again to figure out what the hell Stipe was singing about.
So what could the band do after making a first album that quietly innovated and seemed to impress everyone, except a larger, mainstream audience? Murmur was a lovely, elegant record for sure, but wasn’t a ‘stage’ album per se that reflected their live shows, something that the band was determined to change. And while they toyed with getting new, better known producers, they ultimately stuck with the team that made the debut, Mitch Easter and Don Dixon. And while Murmur is definitely one of the music history books, their sophomore effort Reckoning is a much more pleasurable record front to back. Though it’s much less gloomy and moody, it definitely still has those elements there though the second album’s more musically upbeat nature overall is probably why it became more a long term fixture in their shows over the years, as we’ll see.
Thankfully, when their indie bosses acted like a major and demanded more commercial material from them, the band shut them out of the process and did their own thing. And as a plus for fans, you could much more easily make out what Stipe was saying, even if the words were still cryptic regardless, reflected in the cartoonish slithering cover illustration by outsider artist Reverend Howard Finster (who got mucho recognition and cred for that work).
Since the original album named each half “(L) The Left Side” and “(R) The Right Side,” it took me years to figure out that the former was actually side one, which starts out with “Harborcoat,” a good kick-off and nice breezy number but not as powerful and distinct as the reworked version of their debut single “Radio Free Europe,” which led Murmur off with a bang. As such, I always started with “Second Guessing,” which started off Reckoning’s other side and would have been a wise move. For “Harborcoat,” Stipe claimed he was rewriting The Diary of Anne Frank but I go with the chin-strokers who say it’s about early Soviet-era Red Terror. Either way, he leaves you lots to ponder and Mills provides some interesting, mysterious lines to savor in the background. You almost wish though that Easter/Dixon had pushed the band to add a bridge to the song in the revved up section before the last verse to add a little more oomph to the tune.
After that slight dip though, it’s all uphill from there. The lovely “7 Chinese Bros.” is anchored by Buck’s delicate intro and refrain and Mill’s echoed piano breaks as Stipe reminisces about a break-up he caused, later admitting that he dated both members of a couple (wotta dog) and throwing in a great line like “wrap your heels in bones of steel.” First heard as an unnamed song on their debut on Late Night With David Letterman in October 1983, “So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry)” is another beautiful song, again starting off with a memorable spidery guitar line from Buck and again adding Mills’ piano jangles at the end for some drama. No wonder it was the first single from the album. As you’d guess from the title, Stipe is regretful again, not communicating with a loved one as he should. The brief apocalyptic scene, “the trees will bend, the cities wash away” and the Biblical imagery prove again that he could throw in stunning imagery at will. Come to think of it, even without the faster pace, the dude was still proto-Emo. Don’t hold it against him though.
VIDEO: R.E.M. “So. Central Rain”
Yet another great Buck intro, this time with Byrds-like chiming, leads off the up-tempo “Pretty Persuasion,” which seems to have hints of harmonica buried in the background. You can read, or not read, what you want into “all has been tried/follow reason and buy” (which is pretty good line) but what’s much more interesting is how he hooks the title around the girl and then the boy and aptly adds in “goddamn, pure confusion” as we try to figure out who he’s centering on. Either way, it’s one of their best early rockers.
Finishing off “(L) The Left Side” is another gorgeous tune, “Time After Time (Annelise),” proving that these guys liked parentheses even more than I do. It’s a lovely drone-power piece but still very melodic as Berry adds a Moe Tucker-like thud while Buck produces spiraling, ringing tones, even adding in a brief distant solo, a rarity on the album. What’s the water tower here and why does Stipe sound lonely again? We’re so hypnotized by the music that we may never know.
“(R) The Right Side” starts with “Second Guessing,” which I how I still would have started the whole album but at least it’s there- a better, driving rocker starting with Buck’s heavy strumming and Berry’s pounding drums as Mills’ distant voice intertwines on the chorus. Poor Stipe isn’t happy about a relationship, which shouldn’t be too surprising but he does get excited enough to actually work his way up to a yelp a few times. But wait, is it really about a relationship? He calls out the rest of the band, name by name, near the end, maybe playfully. Are they the ones second guessing him? Is he needling the band? Such a quizzical guy, that Michael.
“Letter Never Sent” has… wait for it.. yet another subtle, delicate Buck intro to it. Again, while not a flashy soloist, he’s an inventive player who beautifully tagged so many of their songs with his guitar lines. This mid-tempo rocker with a stomping, insistent beat that Stipe occasionally sings along to is one that might not spring to mind with even many of their fans as an early classic but it definitely deserves to be heard again and again. And just as sure as you get a great start-out from Buck, you also get some regret from Stipe (see the song title for more information), but he also calls out Athens by name and adds in some nice imagery of water and catacombs. “Heaven is yours” he, Mills and Berry sing together at first but later the rhythm section answers that with “you know it’s scary” later, showing his/their ambivalence about making their way out into the world.
Then in the middle of the side comes another hidden gem from their early years and though it’s the longest song on the album, clocking in at almost six minutes, it never drags itself out. A beautiful eulogy to his Carol Levy, who was Stipe’s girlfriend and the band’s photographer, “Camera” is surprisingly not morose but instead a loving look back. It’s slow and sad but also so pretty, framed by a stately organ for atmosphere. “If I’m to be your camera/Then who will be your face?” he wonders aloud at the end of each chorus. On the last verse, the band pulls back, quietly letting Stipe mourn.
From the inside room
When the front room greeting becomes your special book
It was simple then
When the party lulls
If we fall by the side
I still like you
Can you remember?
Then Buck/Mills/Berry ring back in for the final chorus for a dramatic ending. It’s hard to imagine a nicer elegy for Levy, or for most anyone else for that matter.
After dragging the depths of sorrow, the band then returns to simple regret and longing but doesn’t sound morose doing it thankfully. You can tell that Mills is more responsible for “(Don’t Go Back To) Rockville” (see what I meant about parentheses?) since the lyrics are so straightforward, trying to get a girl not to go to the place in the title. The song actually starts out funky and almost comical before breaking down and stopping, though you’d almost wish they would have pursued the groove there. When they start up again, it’s all ringing guitar though Buck also had an almost country-ish twang to his playing too with Mills carting back in his jangly piano. Actually, a cautionary/threatening line like “you’ll wind up in some factory/that’s full-time filth and nowhere left to go“ and the singer’s battle with the bottle also put this in country territory too. It’s an early favorite of theirs, and was a single from the album and it’s easy to see why.
Reckoning ends similarly to the way Murmur did, with an enigmatic rocker though this one’s an improvement over “West of the Fields.” I’d peg “Little America” as another early hidden gem in their catalog and yes, it starts with another soaring, ringing Buck intro and you’ll still love it. Even with its nods to the Roman emperors, they’re focused on the confusing life on the road. “The biggest wagon is the empty wagon is the noisiest” and later calling out to their manager “Jefferson [Holt], I think we’re lost.” Maybe something broader about where they think they are with their career but a strange, unique way to end the record any way you cut it.
And sure, Reckoning was rightly loved by the writers, fans and indie world. And even if it wasn’t ground-breaking as the first one, which would have been a lot to ask, it proved that they weren’t a one-shot deal. Again, if you strip away the historic sheen of Murmur, Reckoning comes out on top as the better, more enjoyable record overall. Fight me on that one if you will.
As you probably know, the Athens boys did OK for themselves after that. They outgrew I.R.S. and the indie rock world, going to Warner Bros. and more elaborate but still remarkably beautiful music with name-brand producers, special guests, strings and horns, reaching multi-platinum and arena level. Their early run in major label land is still astounding: Green, Out of Time, Automatic For the People, Monster and New Adventures in Hi-Fi are all still great albums and all very different from each other. And then Berry left and as for their last five albums, well.. they do have their moments and I’d even argue that the last one (2011’s Collapse Into Now) is actually the best of ‘em. That September then, the band announced that they were done. A few months later, I met Stipe’s brother-in-law at an Oh OK reunion and he explained that what happened was that Stipe just told the other guys that he didn’t wanna do the band anymore and there was no argument or bad feelings about that from Buck or Mills. I believed him too.
As far as how the band revisited Reckoning later on in their career, by the time of their ‘85 “Reconstruction” tour, only a few of the songs from that album were in their main set as R.E.M. restlessly kept moving on. By the first time I saw them, which was 10 years later and Berry’s last tour, that album was only repped with “So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry)” as part of the encore. But then on their last tour in 2008, at a show that was only a few months before their last concert, I heard them haul out “(Don’t Go Back To) Rockville,” “Harborcoat” and “Pretty Persuasion” and not one note from the debut. Seems like they knew what album to favor on their way out. Take that, Murmur.
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