Finally, I’m concluding my series of reviews (scattered over several
years) of Simon and Garfunkel’s five studio albums, all of which are
extraordinarily impressive efforts. This second album is titled with the
song that changed the lives of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel forever.
While Paul was busy traveling the folk circuit in England and Art was
back to his studies at Columbia after their first album, Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.,
failed to garner much attention, a DJ got ahold of the acoustic ballad
and played it on the air with souped-up electric backing. Paul learned
it was on the charts just as he was about to go onstage in England.
Needless to say, the future plans of both underwent a dramatic change.
I read that once Simon and Garfunkel got together again, they felt
under great pressure to put out an album as quickly as possible, and as a
result felt that they were not able to put the amount of care into the
production that they wanted to. Nonetheless, this is a very high-quality
album, with several songs that have stood the test of time.
Side One
The Sounds of Silence
- I still can’t decide which version I like better. The acoustic
version is very intimate, with the closeness of the two voices evident.
Additionally, it is possible to isolate Art’s melody and Paul’s harmony;
because of the way the Wednesday Morning was recorded, this is
possible throughout the album, and kind of a neat trick. But this
version also works well, with the electronic instruments underscoring
the dynamics of the song. They also are a reminder of the technology
ironically contributing to a widespread breakdown in communication. The
louder and more cluttered the song is, the more it speaks to the
unwillingness of people to really speak and listen to one another.
“People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening,
people writing songs that voices never shared. No one dared disturb the
sound of silence.”
Leaves that are Green - One of a few
Simon and Garfunkel songs whose lyrics are very depressing but whose
musical mood and tempo is upbeat and cheerful. I’m guessing that’s
intentional, as though the narrator is trying to trick himself into
being optimistic even though he sees life falling apart around him. It’s
a song about the transience of life, the lament of a young man in his
twenties that his prime is not going to last very long. It’s not a bad
song, but the lyrics really are a downer, and I would say they are
rather weak as far as Paul Simon lyrics go. My favorite line: “Hello,
hello, hello, hello, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. That’s all
there is.” Profoundly simple? Perhaps. But it’s sure not headed for the
Lyrical Hall of Fame.
Blessed - Again, pretty bleak.
There is no musical artifice here; the music matches the despair and
angst of the lyrics. It’s a subversion of the Beatitudes, basically Paul
saying, “You said all these people would be blessed, and look at the
mess they’re all in.” I read that he wrote this after hearing a sermon
somewhere on the Beatitudes and being disgusted with the lack of
congruity with the reality he saw. Like Silent Night, it uses a
classic Christian text and challenges it. In addition to the Beatitudes,
this song draws from Jesus’ dying words on the cross: “Oh, Lord, why
have you forsaken me?”
Kathy’s Song - Art Garfunkel,
who sings it regularly in concert, has referred to this as Paul Simon’s
most beautiful love song. I’m inclined to agree. It is also one of
Paul’s simplest songs, being merely 6 straight four-line verses with
roughly iambic tetrameter and an ABCB rhyme scheme. No chorus, no
unexpected rhymes or rhythms…uncommonly uncomplicated. This track is
Paul’s show, his chance to shine; Art gets his chance on the flip side
with April Come She Will. I prefer the live version of this song,
but this version is very similar. In this love song to Kathy, his
girlfriend in England, Paul is forlorn by his absence from the one he
loves. The song is framed with images of rain, adding to the impression
that he is very depressed without her. “I know that I am like the rain.
There but for the grace of you go I.”
Somewhere They Can’t Find Me - A reworking of Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.,
this song contains most of the same lyrics, aside from the chorus,
which the former lacked. The musical tone is much different, much louder
and bringing out the thrill of the chase instead of the anguish of
separation. In the first song, the offender sounded youthful, innocent,
someone who had made an uncharacteristic mistake and was now going to
pay for it with his happiness. This narrator seems much more crass and
experienced. He says he’s sorry to leave his ladylove, but there is much
less affection apparent in this version and his sincerity is
questionable. He just seems eager to get on the road and elude the
authorities. “Before they come to catch me I’ll be gone, somewhere they
can’t find me.” It’s interesting to see what a difference there is in
the two songs stemming from the same lyrics. I prefer Wednesday Morning, but Somewhere is good as well.
Anji
- A chance for Paul to show off his guitar skills. An astonishingly
adept guitar player, Paul masters this intricate composition by English
guitar great Davy Graham.
Side Two
Richard Cory
- It’s interesting how many of the songs on this album are drawn from
other sources, either earlier Paul Simon material or classic writing
with a new twist. There are five such songs on this album, and this is
one. I remember reading Robinson’s poem of the same name as a sophomore
in high school. Paul takes that poem and works around it, writing a
hard-edged song in the voice of a discontented factory worker disgusted
by the elegant life his boss lives. The worker is astonished to discover
that Richard Cory, in spite of his wealth and high standing, kills
himself. “My mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read
‘Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head.’”
I read an analysis of the song once which speculated that the
repetition of the chorus concluding in “I wish that I could be Richard
Cory” after this revelation indicates the depth of this worker’s
despair. No longer does he mean “I wish I was affluent like Richard
Cory” instead, he means “I wish I was dead like Richard Cory.” An
intriguing analysis, and it makes perfect sense to me.
A Most Peculiar Man
- Another song in which I like the live version better. I really can’t
wait to get the live album from 1967! This tragic song was inspired by
an obituary Paul saw in which a neighbor referred to the deceased as “a
most peculiar man.” He thought that was such a sad summing up of a
person’s life that he decided to write a song about it. This is the tale
of a lonely man who is understood and loved by no one. “He lived all
alone within a house within a room within himself.” His death is
remarked upon, but little more, and the neighbors come across as
dreadfully insincere. “All the people said, ‘What a shame that he’s dead
but wasn’t he a most peculiar man?” We are left with the idea that
these people have no sense of their own role in his demise and are
certainly not going to take any steps to reach out to another person in
his situation.
April Come She Will - Based on a nursery
rhyme, Paul adds a companion to each line of the five-line rhyme and
adds two final lines, adding to the original poem’s internal rhyme
structure with an ABCB rhyme scheme and turning it into a song about the
birth and death of a romance. Art’s vocals shine in this simple song,
which he occasionally sings in concert. After Art’s girlfriend Laurie
Bird committed suicide in the late 㣪s, this song became a reminder to
him of their passionate but ultimately tragic romance.
We’ve Got a Groovey Thing Goin’
- For some reason, the liner notes on the back of the album merely say
“Just for fun,” not even including a quote from the song as all the
other tracks with lyrics do. I guess they didn’t thing very highly of
the song’s quality. Interestingly, “groovy” is spelled with an “e,” even
though Feelin’ Groovy on the next album is spelled without one.
Actually, I think this is the only place where I have seen “groovy”
spelled with an “e.” Anyway, it’s a fun and upbeat song in which the
narrator pleads with his girlfriend not to desert him. “Oh baby, baby,
you must be outta your mind. Do you know what you’re pitchin’ away?
We’ve got a groovey thing goin’, baby, we’ve got a groovey thing.”
I Am a Rock
- What Art calls Paul’s most neurotic song. The narrator sounds
extremely cold and unkind, but pitiable all the same. I’ve always
thought of him as an Ebeneezer Scrooge. He is afraid of being hurt, so
he won’t let anyone get close to him. “I won’t disturb the slumber of
feelings that have died. If I never loved, I never would have cried.”
The song has a real bite to it, and Paul’s vocals are most prominent
throughout. It’s also got one of my favorite instances of alliteration
in a Paul Simon song: “a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow.”
Nice.
Another great album by Simon and Garfunkel, and the best
was yet to come in their career as a duo. There have lately been
widespread rumors about the possibility of a Simon and Garfunkel reunion
tour this fall. Though rumors of this kind have always been floating
around, Art himself indicated that it was a real possibility; his
website confirmed it for a while but now has gone back to saying “we’ll
let you know if it happens.” Seeing Simon and Garfunkel perform together
live would be an incredible thrill for me and for countless others who
have treasured their music for years. But whether or not the reunion
tour happens, the sound they created will always be available for
enjoyment on this and their other albums.
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