40 Years of 'Reckoning'

R.E.M.'s second full-length was no sophomore slump.

Growing up glued to our local album-oriented rock station, WQDR, in Raleigh, I had heard a couple of tracks from Murmur, R.E.M.’s first LP. I’m sure I’d heard “Radio Free Europe” and/or “Gardening at Night” as well on WKNC, NC State’s college station, but I could be wrong. I do remember where I was, however, the first time I saw the video for “So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry)”. I was, like so many Gen X’ers, seated on my living room floor, staring at MTV like a rock-and-pop zombie sponge. Unlike so many other videos of the day, this group didn’t have an apparent schtick. They didn’t dance around and pose and wear silly outfits. They just stood there, kinda broody, and played the damn song. And the song was captivating. I knew even then that Byrds-like jangle sound and that haunting melody made for some truly mysterious rock’n’roll.

I started on my long, fruitful journey with Buck, Berry, Mills, and Stipe right there. And the more I learned, the more I fell in love with them. Southern boys, outcasts, weirdos, but with an uncontrollable pull toward their roots and region. Influenced by the past but not burdened by it. Aware of trends but not slaves to them. They were, as their 1991 masterpiece labeled them, Out of Time.

I don’t remember where or when I first picked up Reckoning, but I know it was on cassette, and I know I played it until the wheels squeaked. Then I picked up the record. Still have it. It - and the rest of my R.E.M. collection - isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

I loved everything about the album - the sound, the artwork, the ambiguity. I loved the story of how Stipe wasn’t feeling “7 Chinese Brothers” so producer Don Dixon placed him in a stairwell with a copy of The Revelairs’ The Joy of Knowing Jesus, hit record, and Stipe simply read the liner notes to warm-up.

The result, “Voice of Harold,” ended up as a B-side to the 12” single of “So. Central Rain” and then on their fantastic odds’n’sods collection, Dead Letter Office, in ‘87. What makes this one little throwaway performance so enthralling is the marriage of southern gospel, rural imagery, and young rockers recording in North Carolina. It was like a page out of my upbringing and teenage years, spent in bands rehearsing in garages, out in fields, and in tiny rooms, improvising and goofing around as we searched for some kind of way to belong in the world we all idolized.

Reckoning - and most all of their I.R.S. output - still holds that mystery - and legacy - for me. When I learned that their first albums (and EP) were recorded not far from where I grew up and that they played their first shows outside of their native Athens right here in the Triangle, I was simultaneously proud and crestfallen that I had missed seeing their pre-Reckoning rise because, as Dylan sang, “I was born too late.” Frustratingly, by just a year or so.

R.E.M. made quite an impact on my generation of white kids, especially in the southeast, as it validated many of those who may not have openly embraced Lynyrd Skynyrd (as I did) or Hank Williams, Jr., but didn’t care for straight-up punk. Here was a group of southern boys that let us know it’s OK to not follow the crowd, that you don’t have to be a raging pile of testosterone 24 hours a day, and you don’t even have to sing out the lyrics plainly and distinctly to make an emotional impact.

Bless ‘em.

Happy Reckoning Week. Break it out and spend some time going back to Rockville.