A Number One song in an invented chart where the chorus is an apology. A song which didn't have a title for a while. One which the band who wrote it played twice on television, on their American and UK debuts before it was laid down on record anywhere and released. Even though they were hardly lacking strong, recorded material by any means.
R.E.M. were a band that did things their way and eventually and highly oddly and unexpectantly became the biggest band in the world for a while. I go on about them a lot on here but am not about to apologise for doing so because they're worth it.
In 1984 they might as well have been my band. Although they'd made a splash in the music papers, I didn't have any friends at that time that read the music papers. I was waiting to meet and find them without knowing I was in need of doing so. I felt alone, though I was happy being that. I was something of a solitary dreamer in suburban, South West London when it came out, carving out my cultural tastes and obsessions almost as an act of assembly. I had a sense that it was the thing to do and the books, art and records I chose were vital investments in myself and the person I dreamed of becoming and was subconsciously in the process of constructing.
R.E.M when I discovered them fitted me like a hand to a glove. Southern Literature, CBGB's Punk, Sixties dreaming. Songs with lyrics you couldn't make out. Melodies with an intangible dramatic and romantic tug towards a world you longed to be a part of. Albums you listened to hundreds of times and which told a different story every time. Cultural artefacts of the deepest and most important kind. Investments in soul.
When I finally got to university in Autumn 1985 I made important friends. One of the best was Rod who roomed in the next room to mine in our university halls. He was the first person I met who loved R.E.M. like I did, heard me playing Murmur and Reckonng through the wall before we really met and recognised something in the other immediately. We bonded instantly over music, literature, politics and dreams about what our lives might turn out to be. Meeting people like this is an important part of life's journey.
Rod has since described those early R.E.M. records and their magic as a palimpsest. He's always had a better vocabulary than mine and I had to look the word up. A place where you layer on your own meaning. A meaning that may or may not be accurate. And this process of active and engaged interaction with the record you are listening to deepens the bond and mystery of the relationship you find yourself in with a set of musicians and their artistic creation. The stories they're telling. The best love affairs last a lifetime. Mine with R.E.M. is not quite over yet.
As for the song itself. I've written about it on here before:
'For its thrilling guitar figure. For it's brevity. Not a moment is wasted. For its wonderful title, So. Central Rain is not mentioned in the lyric. Because its chorus refrain is simple 'I'm Sorry...' not a common Rock sentiment at the time or since. For its almost biblical tone. Cities washing away, building things on rocks, which reminded me of The Band, The Byrds and Creedence when I heard it. Not common denominators in 1983. For Mike Mills extraordinary wordless backing vocal towards the close of the song which conveys the ultimate, most incredible desolation. it's a song that still regularly makes me cry. I applaud my youthful taste.
Also because it was clearly an important song to the band. Because they were plainly proud of it. With good reason. I'm not remotely tired of it almost forty years on after relentless playing and replaying of it down the years, It, along with so many of the bands early songs, brought back some eternal verities that were in danger of being forgotten. One of Michael's favourites.'
So that's my Number One I've enjoyed the last month and a half. Memory Lane is great. So long as you don't get lost there. I imagine I'll be back in 2025. To relive 1985.
Post Script: This song of course when it was released, never featured in any actual chart to the best of my knowledge. Sometimes it's best that way.
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Great stuff! Afraid I had only been dipping in and out of your list when certain bands came up.... but yesterday I decided to read back through all of them. Love your recollections. Made me want to do something similar, and started racking my brain for what I was listening to back then. It was an in-between time for me. I was a lonely daydreamer, too, but had yet to discover the music papers. That happened at university, where I also met my Rod (Phil, in my case), who introduced me to NME, Melody Maker and pretty much every band I went on to love. 1984 was mostly spent waiting to turn 18 and trying to discover what music I liked. David Sylvian, Everything but the Girl and Lloyd Cole were my main loves, I think. I don't look back much. I have developed an obsession for looking forward somehow. But it's good to do it every now and then. And melancholic nostalgia kind of fits my mood at the moment. Thanks for this, Bruce!
ReplyDeleteIt's an interesting journey Darren. You should try it. I'd definitely read yours. I don't like to dwell on the past either but I have that kind of mind. I believe in the importance of memory expressed in that Nick Cave quote at the top of the blog. I love the teenage experience and how we look back on it. It's one of my favourite things. Those ages and the experiences you have at that time are worth thinking and writing about. They make us what we are. I actually think it's important to look forward too. But I have this blog now. Thanks for your kind words.
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