Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.
Still, it’s so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water’s edge.
The moon is low tonight.
People often ask me about the meaning behind one of my favorite songs, “Nightswimming” by REM. A quick search online will reveal opinions ranging from “it’s about skinny-dipping” to “an ode to lost youth.” In fact, there are entire websites dedicated to the song and what it means to different people. According to REM front man Michael Stipe, “I remember writing the thing and it just kind of fell out of me, it was a very easy song to write.
It describes the summer as an eternity, and kind of an innocence that’s either desperately clung onto or obviously lost. There are autobiographical elements to it, some lines that come from real experiences but most of it is made up.” Band mate Mike Mills adds, “It’s something we used to do back in Athens. Twenty or thirty of us would go skinny-dipping at two in the morning – you know, build a fire and get naked.”
In addition to REM’s video, which features young people kicking off their shorts in a moonlit lake and a businessman in a suit stripping down to nothing and jumping into a hotel pool, “Nightswimming” has inspired a play about a couple in their 40’s reliving their youth while staying at a lakeside cabin. It has also added to our vernacular a word that doesn’t even exist, at least according to the dictionary. Most of all, “Nightswimming” has become one of those quiet, underrated tunes that defies time and strikes a resonant chord with all those who identify with its poignant lyrics.
One list praising the best summer songs of all time exclaims, “Perhaps you once lived near the ocean or a lake. Maybe you had a friend who did or maybe you just decided to hop the fence after hours at a public beach one night. Perhaps you might have even gone (gasp) skinny-dipping. Remember the feeling of jumping blindly into the black water, of being surprised at its warmth as you splashed wildly underneath the stars? This song captures that feeling. Perfectly.”
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
I’m not sure all these people understand.
It’s not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
of recklessness and water.
They cannot see me naked.
These things, they go away,
replaced by everyday.
“Nightswimming” has been on my mind of late, and writing this tribute has helped me put into better perspective the reason why I, for one, have never taken part in nightswimming. Perhaps it’s that regret and an unfulfilled longing that form the basis for my fascination with both the song and the many meanings it conjures up. I know many friends who have done it (hell, even my parents used to host skinny-dipping pool parties years before the boys from REM jumped into the warm waters of Athens, Georgia), but my thirty-nine years have been achingly devoid of such reckless, spontaneous activity.
Sure, in my younger years I was known to shed my trunks for a naked midnight romp in the family swimming pool, but that’s not the same as sneaking into the local watering hole under the cloak of darkness, tempting what Stipe called “the fear of getting caught, of recklessness and water.
There is something inherently beautiful and natural about being at one with nature, without the restrictive clothing that only serves to comply with social norms. There is something even more beautiful when you have company doing it. No, this is not a sexual thing, but I know your mind went there! To equate nightswimming with getting laid or peeping-tom perversions does little justice to the topic at hand. Would guys be more comfortable shunning their skivvies if there were women joining in?
Yes, I suspect so. That’s too bad. In some cultures, like Japan, entire families bathe and swim together without any regard for the hang-ups over nudity only Americans and other “advanced” Western cultures seem to embrace. It is truly liberating to feel nothing against you but the warm (and, yes, cold) water or the sand at the bottom of the lake squishing between your toes. At least I am told.
Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September’s coming soon.
I’m pining for the moon.
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
could not describe nightswimming
Above all else, however, nightswimming is about something much more significant than pissing off the cops, getting drunk with your friends, and keeping the neighbors awake. It harkens back to more innocent times, when even fictional characters like Huck Finn or the Hardy Boys could exude boyish exuberance by taking a quick dip in the local pond, with or without clothes. What is it about becoming an adult that makes us so modest? Why do we “cover up” more as we get to points in our lives when we should be shedding excess baggage…and clothing?
I read somewhere that the true test of how well you know someone is what you learn from him or her when they have no clothing to hide their true self. In the most ironic twist of all, REM’s “Nightswimming” video and all of its nudity was released in two versions, including the heavily censored one that aired on MTV. We can’t even bring ourselves to watch ourselves in our most natural human form.
So, in this era when beaches charge you a fee to enter, when it’s illegal to drink wine or a beer at most public lakes, and when decency laws tell us the only time it’s acceptable to be naked in public is the day we are born, we must lament the loss of all that is natural and beautiful to be human. With that loss also came the death of being spontaneous, free-spirited, and at one with our fellow man. For the longest time I felt as if I were the only person who felt this way, until I read several online blogs before writing this. Indeed, there are many out there who believe “these things they go away, replaced by everyday.”
I think back to the infamous Janet Jackson breast incident during the Super Bowl halftime show and how an entire nation got into an uproar. The public anger over aids, racism, poverty, hunger and homelessness has nowhere near the same passion. As Michael Stipe sings, “they cannot see me naked.” Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t think most Americans could handle another public wardrobe malfunction.
You, I thought I knew you.
You I cannot judge.
You, I thought you knew me,
this one laughing quietly underneath my breath.
Nightswimming.
The photograph reflects,
every streetlight a reminder.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.
Reference:
- Visit REM’s official website at www.remhq.com/flash/index.html
