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Tracey and I were talking about “soul songs” and what makes songs deep and meaningful to one person but not another. I’m not sure R.E.M.’s “Find The River” is a “soul song” for me, but it certainly resonates with an atmosphere of unrequited longing and a melancholy that seems to define the track. On the surface the lyrics might seem a little obtuse, but that sort of adds to the overall feeling:
Hey now, little speedy head
The meter on the speedmeter says
You have to go to task in the city
Where people drown and people serve
Don’t be shy. Your just dessert
Is only just light years to goMe, my thoughts are flowers strewn
Ocean storm, bayberry moon
I have got to leave to find my way
Watch the road and memorize
This life that pass before my eyes
Nothing is going my wayThe ocean is the river’s goal
A need to leave the water knows
We’re closer now than light years to goI have got to find the river,
Bergamot and vetiver
Run through my head and fall away
Leave the road and memorize
This life that pass before my eyes
Nothing is going my wayThere’s no one left to take the lead,
But I tell you and you can see
We’re closer now that light years to go
Pick up here and chase the ride
The river empties to the tide
Fall into the oceanThe river to the ocean goes
A fortune for the undertow
None of this is going my way
There is nothing left to throw
Of ginger, lemon, indigo
Coriander stem and rose of hay
Strength and courage overrides
The privileged and weary eyes
Of river poet search naivete
Pick up here and chase the ride
The river empties to the tide
All of this is coming your way
The song has a particularly special meaning for me because whenever I hear it I’m reminded of the days surrounding our initial departure from Massachusetts to the great unknown of Louisville, Kentucky where I intended to pick up my pursuit of the priesthood. It was an emotional time for both of us; perhaps that’s why this particular tune resonated so much at the time.
Perhaps the river leads him to the ocean. Perhaps it leads nowhere and the river is left to find his own way until it dries up and turns to dust. And perhaps – and most likely – it doesn’t matter one way or the other.
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