Release date: 09/04/1984 | Length: 3:50 | Release: Reckoning | SuE: #14 | US: #44 (Mainstream Rock)

He’s got, pretty persuasion
She’s got, pretty persuasion

If you only had four minutes to figure out if someone would like R.E.M. or not, play them Pretty Persuasion, and you’d have 10 seconds left over to come to a verdict. This is quintessential R.E.M., from the jangly arpeggiated guitar riffs to the weaving dual vocals, and the fact it’s a live favourite committed to tape. There’s certainly a pace to the rest of Reckoning, but this is the best example from the record of a song built to be played live.

This was a late inclusion for Reckoning by all accounts, as the song had already existed for three years by the time the recording of the album came around. Why record a three year old song for your second album, and why this song? Looking at the setlists of 1981 reveals a bounty of unrecorded songs, so what makes Pretty Persuasion so special? Well, it’s catchy as hell isn’t it?

There’s a real frisson all about this song. The drums have the same urgency that Bill Berry brings to Harborcoat, replete with little hi-hat taps. Mike Mills’ bass ascends stylishly in the chorus, and Peter Buck abandons his Byrds-esque jangling for a proper rock riff during the bridge. Oh, and that harmonica too. It’s a real signal that Pretty Persuasion is gonna have some energy.

Some outlets have called this song a critique on consumerism, based on the lyrics from the opening verse: “It’s what I want, Hurry and buy”, but the way Michael Stipe and Mike Mills lock their harmonies together makes the meaning rather negligible. It’s difficult to tell whether they’re singing the same thing, let alone what they’re singing. It’s the chorus that’s sparingly simple:

“Pretty persuasion” was a term that’d been knocking around the R.E.M. offices for a while, having come to Stipe in a dream (not the only time he’d be inspired by the sandman) about photographing the Rolling Stones for their final single. If it’s good enough a song title for the Stones, why not R.E.M.? After a few false starts, it finally made it into this hurtling number, with the phrase alluding to Stipe’s sexuality. Stipe is, in his own words, a queer artist, though despite speculation from journalists during the early 90s, his sexuality has never been at the forefront of R.E.M.’s output. During a live show in 2008, Stipe described this song as reflecting growing up bisexual in the south of America, with the fluid pronouns of the chorus hinting at the allure of all folk. Much like most R.E.M. songs, this is about whatever meaning you attach to it.

Release date: 9/4/1984 | Length: 4:18 | Release: Reckoning | SuE: #28

Seven thousand years to sleep away the pain

Thud thud thud. That’s the main take from 7 Chinese Bros. This isn’t a song that features a virtuoso performance by Bill Berry, but it is a driving delivery from the man at the back. It is, yet again, a quintessentially Reckoning song. There’s aquatic semantics, a delicately subdued Michael Stipe at the front, and of course Peter Buck shimmering away at the sides.

Whereas Stipe on Murmur could be described as enigmatic, on Reckoning he’s often forlorn. So much of his vocals on 7 Chinese Bros. are a mumble, reflecting his regrets documented in So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry). There he is cathartic and anguished; here he is stubborn and moody. Whilst Stipe is on record as stating that this song is about his misdemeanours, the allegory in the song is a stretch.

The title comes from a 1938 book by Claire Huchet called ‘Five Chinese Brothers’, though the scansion is certainly improved with an extra two siblings. It’s another R.E.M. track that dwells in a parable, cementing their status as fable-tellers. That said, the likelihood of returning with a moral is slim:

Seven Chinese brothers swallowing the ocean

Seven thousand years to sleep away the pain

She’ll return

She will return

One quirk about this song which explains Stipe’s lethargic vocals is that the backing track is also used on Voice of Harold, b-side to So. Central Rain. Producer Don Dixon made Stipe read the liner notes of an old gospel album to the track, in the hope it’d invigorate the front man. As a result, some fans bizarrely prefer this take.

Release date: 15/05/1984 | Length: 3:11 | Release: Reckoning | SuE: #4

These rivers of suggestion are driving me away

It’s slightly daunting to write about a song that’s held in such a high regard, particularly when I make it known that it isn’t a favourite of mine. It’s good, it’s great, it’s all the superlatives, but to me So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry) is just one of the R.E.M. classics that hasn’t transcended into my personal catalogue of sensations.

The opening hook is vintage R.E.M. and amongst their most well-known openings. It’s like a bell chiming to let everyone know that R.E.M. are playing before composing itself into a steady rhythm to allow Mike Mills’ bass to really groove. In contrast to a lot of songs on early albums Murmur and Reckoning, So. Central Rain is actually intelligible. “I just sing a song the way I think it should be sung. Something like So. Central Rain to me is so clear,” said Michael Stipe in a Blender feature. Clarity is indeed the key here: “I’m sorry” repeats the frontman over and over, in a slightly anguished and sorrowful tone.

The origins of this song are shared with Reckoning‘s previous song 7 Chinese Bros., and deal with the aftermath of a collapsing relationship that Stipe played a conclusive role in. The refrain is him flatly taking responsibility for this, whereas the rest of the song is littered with mitigations: “Did you never call? I waited for your call”, “The oceans sang, the conversation dimmed”. The enigmatic title seemingly refers to the torrential floods that hit Georgia in 1983 and as the rain roared, diminished the possibility of Stipe contacting the couple that he was now irrevocably intertwined with. In this song, the rain is both a physical and metaphorical entity: “These rivers of suggestions are driving me away”.

For many, So. Central Rain was their introduction to R.E.M., as it gave the band their television debut performing the song on Letterman in 1983, before the song was even titled. It lacks the opening jangling hook that is the song’s calling card, but still bears all the hallmarks of the tune, with an added bonus of some fancy Peter Buck footwork. The music video is a no-frills affair, but does have the quirk of having a new vocal recording, as Stipe refused to lip-sync.

As with so much of the group’s content, ambiguity abounds. The song title is officially So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry), but the So. has been truncated and lengthened respectively to S. and Southern on some releases. As it is, the title suggests to me that the protagonist is making excuses for his actions by blaming the weather, however this added parenthetical remark (I’m Sorry) shows that he is aware of this (however this was only added at the behest of the record label, who felt that a song that didn’t contain any lyrics in the title wouldn’t get that precious airplay).

The ending of the song is slightly dark, as a monotone piano note tolls in and conjures up a gloomy and sinister scene, evoking visions of a dull and unrelenting rainfall.