Find The River: Bergamot, Vetiver, and a Toast to 2025

Last year, I wrote “A Toast to 2024” in anticipation of a new year and out of a desire to mark the time with some sort of writing. Time moves quickly for me, as it does for most people; years fly by, and sometimes I have trouble remembering what happened just a year or two ago. I remember big events, sure, but mostly I remember the way I felt, and I remember more clearly than anything the songs that came with those moments.

As it so often does, it comes back to R.E.M. Last year, it was I Believe, which carried me through rough patches and into the new year. 

Now, it comes back to what I would call my favorite song ever, and one that I carried with me for all of 2024: Find The River.

This song is a sunset over a vast plain, just below a high blanket layer of storm clouds. It’s both reminiscent and anticipatory, looking back on a life lived and one yet to come. It’s filled with regret and longing. It’s also full of hope and joy. 

There’s an awesome website out there that analyzes every R.E.M. song (except for their final two albums, as they were released following the completion of the website’s goal). Matt Perpetua is the creator and writer; he does a fantastic job giving each song a once-over and pointing out the key meanings and intricacies. 

About Find The River, Matt writes:

“Automatic For The People is commonly understood as being R.E.M.’s Album About Death, but it’s more accurate to say that it’s actually about living with the awareness of mortality… If “Everybody Hurts” is telling you to hold on, “Find The River” is explaining why.”

This, to me, is the perfect encapsulation of this album. It is R.E.M.’s album about death, and it is often direct and occasionally morbid. But it’s more than just an album about death; it’s an album acknowledging the realities of living a life that will eventually end, realities that are both disconcerting and valuable in the meaning they grant to every day we live. 

So let me break it down, verse by verse, for the sake of understanding this song in all of its beauty. CAUTION: what follows is, like, over a thousand words of lyrical analysis. If you aren't that interested, just skip to the bottom of the post.

Hey now, little speedy-head

The read on the speed-meter 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 go

Stipe establishes immediately that the narrator is older, speaking to someone young, telling them that it’s their time to “go to task in the city,” or enter the real world. I think using speed to illustrate this is particularly evocative of the rat race; the pace of life suddenly accelerates, and before you know it, life has passed you by, just like it sped past the narrator.

Your “just dessert” is what’s coming to you; your death, probably. The older narrator, from his position of near-death, has more perspective than the young person, who might fear death or see it as closer than it is. Have no fear, he says, it’s still light-years away. 

Me, my thoughts are flower strewn

With ocean storm, bayberry moon

I have got to leave to find my way

Watch the road and memorize

This life that passed before my eyes

And nothing is going my way

Essentially, it’s time for the narrator to be on his way, to move towards death. I can almost hear the narrator telling somebody this, maybe as advice, maybe as some near-death realization, and it’s eerie in its beauty. This life has already passed the narrator, and nothing went his way; still, nothing goes his way, even as he looks back and nears the end. 

The ocean is the river's goal

A need to leave the water knows

We're closer now than light years to go

This is the most direct contrast between the narrator and his young counterpart: the ocean is the river’s goal, and the narrator sees it clearly. The river and the ocean are both separate from the road, where the narrator’s friend is headed; the speed-meter and the city both connect to the road, and the narrator sees clearly that his life and his friend’s are now diverging onto different paths. 

I have got to find the river

Bergamot and vetiver

Run through my head and fall away

Leave the road and memorize

This life that passed before my eyes

And nothing is going my way

Find The River isn’t quite a moment-of-death song, but it’s pretty close. Even at the end, the narrator is still trying to figure out where his life went off the rails. Still replaying the moments in their head, even as he leaves. What Stipe means by “bergamot and vetiver” is unclear, but that to me represents what the narrator is looking for, the beauty that lies along the river that he is searching for. 

His cry that “nothing is going my way” could be seen in two ways. First, nothing is going his way; his life was a failure, and he fears that he has wasted it as he nears its end. I dislike this interpretation, mostly because the narrator seems particularly intelligent, and to simply express sadness at this state just seems to simple for this song.

 Second, it’s an acknowledgment of weariness more than it is a condemnation of his life. At the end of his life, he sees that it is nearing its end, and the fast-paced life of goal-seeking and achievement is no longer the life he is meant to live; his life now belongs in the river, falling into the ocean. I like this interpretation much more. 

There's no one left to take the lead

But I tell you and you can see

We're closer now than light years to go

Pick up here and chase the ride

The river empties to the tide

Fall into the ocean

Those first two lines are simpler than they seem: the narrator is the most experienced, with nobody left to lead him, so he has to lead his friend. The second part is unclear; is the narrator saying they’re both near death? Or that in this place in his life that the narrator is showing to his friend, death is near, and that his friend will one day find himself there? It’s not obvious, but the combination of images of rivers and roads and light-years is transcendent and incredible to me. What is clear, though, is that the ocean is the final resting place; this is where the river of life leads, to the ocean of rest, away from the city. 

The 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 naiveté

Now the song reaches its grand conclusion, and if you’ve never heard it before, you take a few deep breaths and try to comprehend what Stipe just said, and then you listen to it again and again and again. 

The narrator imparts several pieces of wisdom here.

 “A fortune for the undertow” refers to a current running under the surface of a river, perhaps wealth or wisdom found only by those who go unnoticed, under the surface; those who work quietly, or humbly, or with good intentions. 

“Strength and courage overrides the privileged and weary eyes”; or, in other words, the narrator’s newfound strength and courage overcome his prior frustration and weariness with the journey of life, and he’s expressing his desire for his friend to find these things earlier than he did. 

The “river poet” is the narrator, who writes these beautiful words as he finds the strength near the end of his life. 

Pick up here and chase the ride

The river empties to the tide

All of this is coming your way

It all comes full circle now. The narrator passes the baton, telling his friend to “pick up here.” He tells him where the river is going (to the tide, rather than the ocean). And he leaves him with the idea that “all of this is coming your way,” directly contradictory to what he said about himself; he has hope for the life of the narrator, and he finds peace in this. Are these final words a warning or a blessing? I prefer to think of it as the latter, but the former is sweet in its own way, too. 

…

That was a lot. Sorry. If you stuck with me, you’re probably wondering why I love such a morbid song. 

Firstly, the soundscape is absolutely beautiful. You can argue about this or that R.E.M. song as their best, but there’s no denying that this is their most beautiful song, hands down.

Secondly, and more importantly, I think the narrator’s words ring true in a lot of ways, and what he says give us a framework to guide the way we think about our lives in relation to others.

The narrator only finds internal peace at the end of the song, when he sees hope in the subject of his words and finds the strength and courage to impart his advice. To me, that says we ought to always look for ways to lift others up and guide them with our own experiences; both for their sake and for ours, because by imparting strength unto others, we find strength and courage we might not have known we had. Critically, we need not wait until the end to do this, because we might find ourselves worrying about “this life that passed before my eyes” rather than enjoying that life while we have it. 

There are many things that can guide us through life. Music. Education. Jobs. Books. But what are we without each other? That’s the core message of this song, and the interpretation I choose: lean on each other, allow others to lean on you, and our hectic roads might slow down just a little and allow us to enjoy the ride.

But if that song is still too off-putting for you, Michael Stipe said this about the ocean, the supposed death of the narrator:

“I’m not sure the ocean indicates an end.”

Maybe the ocean is death, or maybe it’s the end goal in some way, or maybe it’s just happiness or contentment. It’s up to the listener to decide, as it so often is. 

Anyway, I hope this was somewhat enlightening or interesting. I love this song to no end, and I hope you find a song that you can carry with you through everything you experience in 2025. If you are ever in need of a listening ear, a music recommendation, or a sports take, know that I’ll be around.