Simon and Garfunkel Recapture the Magic in Cleveland, October 20

Background

For as long as I can remember, any interview with Art Garfunkel or Paul Simon had to include some variation on the obligatory question: “When is there going to be a Simon and Garfunkel reunion?” It was a question neither one particularly liked, and after all these years I had all but satisfied myself with their repeated implicit suggestion: “Never.” They never completely closed the door on the possibility, but it was starting to look as though the members of my favorite band would not only not tour together again but would remain estranged for the rest of their lives. Then, this year, a change. Simon and Garfunkel performed Sound of Silence together on the Grammys. Suddenly, anything was possible.

The rumors of a tour flew fast and furious following the Grammys, but they eventually quieted down, only to flare up again when Art confirmed on a June 20 morning show appearance that he and Paul were thinking of touring again. Then another two months of relative silence until an announcement on the Everly Brothers’ website provided a breakthrough. Don and Phil would be joining Art and Paul for their reunion tour. The buzz reached fever pitch, and a certain contingent of fans breathed a collective sigh of relief when Art and Paul finally officially confirmed on September 9 that they would be embarking on tour of North America. A dream was about to come true.

Pre-Concert

I, of course, was bouncing off the walls when I realized that Simon and Garfunkel were actually going on tour and I would actually be able to see them. I banked on them hitting one of the major cities near Erie, and while they gave Pittsburgh and Buffalo a miss, I soon discovered that Cleveland was the third stop on their itinerary. Thanks to www.artgarfunkel.com, I was able to find out when the tickets would first be available for purchase. I agonized over what tickets to get and decided on the middle range. However, the morning of the pre-sale, I decided that I ought to go for the very best seats available. So there I was at 10 a.m. on Ticketmaster, clicking away in a desperate bid for $130 seats. And I got them. Funny thing is, they didn’t seem like $130 seats when we got there. I must admit, I was just a bit distraught over how far away my top dollar early bird bid had gotten us. I wonder if I might have been better off if I’d gone for mid-price tickets the day of the actual sale? Oh, well. One of life’s little disappointments: no second-row seats for me. The important thing is that I got tickets at all.

Over the summer, I attended the American Idol concert in Cleveland. That was at the CSU Convocation Center, while this concert was at the Gund Arena. Both venues are huge. They were both very nice, but if I had to venture a guess I’d say the Gund is the better of the two. Upon our arrival at 7:00, I headed right for the souvenir stand to buy a tour book and t-shirt before the lines got impossibly long. There were several different styles of t-shirts, though none was particularly thrilling. I got the black one with the Bookends cover and “simon & garfunkel” on the front and a list of tour stops on the back. I’m glad I got it, but I don’t think it was much of a deal for $35. I got more bang for my buck with the $25 tour book, an attractive collection of photos, quotes and stats along with a brief history of the duo and its significance by Bud Scoppa. If an additional $25 investment doesn’t sting too much, I definitely recommend the book to all serious Simon and Garfunkel fans.

It wasn’t quite 7:30 when we got to our seats, which, as I mentioned before, were located considerably further from the stage than I had hoped. Yes, I’d looked at a grid of the arena, but I never was good with maps. And I was just so glad to have tickets at all, I wasn’t going to hold out for better seats and risk losing our spots altogether. So we watched as the crowd slowly filed in and entertained ourselves by perusing the tour book and listening to one particularly enthusiastic beer vendor hawk his wares; every time his overzealous bellowing of “THE BEER GUY!!!!!” and “COLD BEER!!!!!!” echoed through the arena, my brother and I erupted into giggles. At 8:00 the hall was alarmingly empty, but the rest of the audience gradually arrived. It was nearly 8:30 when all of the lights went out suddenly. The time had come to begin.

Spoiler Alert: I intend to recount this concert in as much detail as I can, if for no other reason than to cement it as solidly in my memory as possible. If you plan to attend a later stop on the tour and don’t want any surprises ruined, you may want to stop here. Everyone else, feel free, to quote The Princess Bride, to “skip to the end” if my starry-eyed rambling bores you...

The Concert

Shortly after we were plunged into total darkness, the distinctive opening notes of America filled the arena. Accompanying this pre-recorded instrumental track was a slide show of significant cultural and historical snapshots interspersed amongst photos of Art and Paul through the years. If we were a bit further from Simon and Garfunkel than I would have liked, we at least had a prime view of the Jumbotron. The clever, eye-catching opening earned cheers from the audience, but they could not compare with the roar that erupted when the presentation ended and a beam of light revealed the men themselves upon the stage. Before they could begin, they had to wait for the instantaneous standing ovation, the first of many, to subside.

While we came prepared with spyglasses to enhance our viewing pleasure, I soon discovered they were not very effective tools in a venue such as this. Fortunately, the Jumbotron took care of that for us. Most concerts I’ve attended have been too small to merit technological aids like this, but ironically I was able to see Simon and Garfunkel with much greater clarity than almost any performer I have seen live. As they sang the title song of their tour, we were able to see that these truly were two “old friends.” However tenuous their relationship may have been in the years since their last major tour together, the old magic was clearly back. It was a tender yet somber beginning to an evening that would chronicle their career as a duo and provide a living testament to the strength of their friendship.

The hints of mortality continued with Hazy Shade of Winter, one of their most hard-edged songs. In the Simon and Garfunkel catalog, this number does not rank terribly high on my list, simply because it’s much harsher than most of their music. Still, I am convinced there is no such thing as a bad Simon and Garfunkel song, and if nothing else, Hazy Shade was rockin’! After the quiet ending of Bookends, the electrifying opening of this song was as jarring a transition as the ill-conceived placement of Keep the Customer Satisfied directly after the lullaby Feuilles-Oh on the Old Friends compilation. Once we recovered from the shock, though, it was a great way to bring the audience up to our highest energy level. For whatever reason, they omitted quite a bit in the singing of this song, most appropriately, I suppose, the line “it’s the springtime of my life.” The emphasis was on the chorus, with verses often skipped altogether or replaced with instrumentals. Very effective nonetheless.

The next song threw me for a loop, reminding just how similar certain portions of Simon and Garfunkel tunes sound. After the guitar intro, I was expecting Homeward Bound; what I got was I Am a Rock. Silly me! This was the second tune of the night from their Greatest Hits; the only song from the album to get left out entirely was For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her. I’ve heard Art describe I Am a Rock as Paul’s most neurotic song and Paul express embarrassment over having written it, but it has always been one of my favorites. The themes of isolation and betrayal are ones that most of us can relate to at one time or another. They probably also contain a hint of what the two may have felt in regard to one another sometimes. I found the harmonies interesting, as they were significantly altered from the original version. Throughout the night, most of the songs featured arrangements and harmonies differing slightly from the recordings, but this song contained some of the most apparent alterations. Art’s high-end vocals were reminiscent of the triumphant chorus of A Church is Burning, resulting in the song feeling less like a pity party and more like a bold statement of individuality.

America was pretty straightforward. We’d already gotten a preview of that with the slide show, and I had heard them perform it on television last month, so there wasn’t anything particularly surprising there. Great harmonies, and a nice appreciative cheer from the audience at the mention of boarding a Greyhound in Pittsburgh.

Paul started in on At the Zoo himself, with what seemed to be a rather flip air about him. Art joined in and they breezed right through it, forgoing any instrumental breaks or returns to the opening lines. They seemed to be having fun with it, and it was particularly entertaining to watch Art hold that note on “gas” towards the end. Once they reached the end of the vocals, however, they launched into an unexpected and rather lengthy instrumental ending that turned out to be a segue into Baby Driver. This is another tune I claim among my least favorite Simon and Garfunkel tunes, but I have to admit it’s a fun song, and never more so than last night. They really seemed to be having the time of their lives up there, and Art’s imitation of the car motor was dead-on and hilarious. I also took particular note of Warren Bernhardt, whom I have seen several times at Art’s concerts. He’s always impressed me, but man, was he making those ivories dance on this song! I had almost as much fun watching him boogie-woogie on the piano as I did watching Simon and Garfunkel sing one of their most youthful...one might almost say adolescent...songs.

I’ve heard Art’s introduction to Kathy’s Song before, and it really didn’t change a whole lot between his solo concerts and this one. Just a few moments of reflection on the simple life he and Paul had before fame hit, when they survived day to day on the strength of their music and their friendship. When they had to practically force people to stay for their show and toss a few coins in the hat their friend Kathy passed around instead of having fans clamoring to score $130 tickets to see them perform. A description of the song as pure nostalgia but also the most beautiful love song Paul ever wrote. Nothing really new here, but it took on much deeper meaning with Paul standing right next to him. And when Art began to sing, accompanied only by Paul’s masterful guitar playing, it was a moment whose intimacy was perhaps unrivaled all that evening. While this is a song Art often does in concert, it is Paul’s song in the original recording. Hearing Art perform it last night was like witnessing a gift: Paul passing the song along to Artie, whose superb, wistful treatment of it expressed his deep love for that time in their lives.

Thus engulfed in a cloud of nostalgia, they took themselves back one step further, back to the day when they introduced themselves to one another for the first time as cast members of the class production of Alice in Wonderland. Paul noted drily, in the concert tour’s most quoted sound byte, that “We met at 11, started singing together at 13, and started arguing at 14.” The next milestone? A recording, landing a spot on the charts and an appearance on American Bandstand. Not bad for a couple of 16-year-olds. They launched into a quick, self-deprecating rendition of Hey, Schoolgirl, after which Paul dead-panned, “I have no idea where the ‘woo baba lichi wa’ came from.”

The sound, however, he could explain. Simon and Garfunkel crafted their distinctive harmonies by copying the Everly Brothers, a rockabilly duo especially popular in the fifties. The best homage he could give to the duo without whom there probably would be no Simon and Garfunkel was to invite them to take the stage and sing a few of their biggest hits. The applause from the audience was resounding, and the Everlys warranted yet another standing ovation, but it was unclear whether their appearance was a surprise to the majority of those present. I have seen several articles this week remarking on the unexpected presence of the Everly Brothers, which struck me as odd since I have known they were a part of this tour for two months. Maybe I was just more “in the know” than I realized!

Simon and Garfunkel stepped back at this point and let Don and Phil do their thing. They first launched into a spirited rendition of Wake Up Little Suzie, arguably their biggest hit. Simon and Garfunkel landed on the charts with their live cover of it during 1981's Concert in the Park. This song was great fun, but All I Have to Do is Dream was my favorite of the three they sang solo. They sang it very slowly, and a slowly rotating blue light washed the entire arena in a dreamlike glow. Very nice. Let It Be Me was the only song of the night which I did not know. I was familiar with it, having read that Art and Julio Iglesias recorded a cover of it several years ago, but I had never heard the song. All three songs allowed the audience to hear how these brothers influenced Simon and Garfunkel with their tight harmonic style. Simon and Garfunkel returned at this point to join the Everlys in a very lively Bye Bye Love for which the audience sang along. A wonderful living tribute to this band who meant so much to Art and Paul in their formative years.

The next song was a cover of a different kind for Simon and Garfunkel, with their definitive version of the old English tune Scarborough Fair. Art started out on the first verse, joined later by Paul, singing the harmony. The counter-melody, Canticle, could be heard from time to time in the instrumentals. A lovely performance, and the first of four Greatest Hits songs in a row. Homeward Bound was also pretty straightforward, with no major changes. In his concerts, Art usually takes the opportunity to make a jab at Paul in this song, singing “tonight I’ll sing his songs again... all his words come back to me in shades of mediocrity.” This obviously was not a part of the song last night, but I wonder whether Art will continue to sing it that way when he goes back to his solo tour next year.

Sound of Silence got a huge reaction from the audience. Certainly one of their most enduring songs, and the one that started it all. When they performed it at the Grammys, I was struck by a sense that this did not feel like a Simon and Garfunkel performance; rather, it was a Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel performance, and that was not the same thing. They had not merged to become a separate, transcendent entity, to create that magical quality that their engineer Roy Halee said could not be accomplished by overdubbing tracks of them singing alone. Last night, the magic was very much alive again, which was apparent from the beginning of the show. Few songs better exemplify the their harmonic blend than this plea for connection in a world that continually facilitates alienation.

At this point, the Jumbotron became the focal point once more as the recording of Feelin’ Groovy accompanied Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel-related video clips from concerts, both duo and solo, films and specials, as well as snippets of The Graduate. This fun little montage preceded Mrs. Robinson, usually another opportunity for Art to poke fun at his relationship with Paul by explaining the reasons they broke up. One explanation: he wanted to sing “Jesus loves you more than you ever knew, woo woo woo,” and Paul would have none of it. He then takes the liberty to change the lyric in his performance. No lyric change last night, just an energetic reading of a perpetual fan favorite which neither performer counts among his favorite songs. If they minded singing it, though, it didn’t show at all.

The remaining songs, prior to the encores, were all taken from either the late or the post-Simon and Garfunkel catalog. Slip-Slidin’ Away was one song from his early solo career which Paul said he always thought should have been a Simon and Garfunkel song. I’ve always liked it, but it has especially grown on me since I received the Concert in the Park DVD. A sad and lovely song containing some of Paul’s finest lyrics, it’s on the verge of edging out Kodachrome as my second favorite of Paul’s solo efforts. This performance included a delightful candid moment when Art started to sing the song too early and stopped short, realizing he had jumped the gun. The audience got a good chuckle over that; it’s just nice to be reminded sometimes that they’re ordinary folks just like us and equally capable of flubbing up a bit. Interestingly, this song caused Art slight confusion during the Concert in the Park as well; you can see him conferring with Paul prior to the song’s beginning over which verse he is supposed to sing solo. The ending was elongated last night, featuring rich harmonization of Art and Paul well after the actual lyrics had ended, and Art’s neatly timed finger-snapping added nice accents throughout the song.

El Condor Pasa was very nicely done, and while I didn’t really notice this, it included accompaniment on the ukelele that my dad thought gave it a sort of Russian Jewish feel, rather than the typical Spanish feel. At any rate, a great performance, and Art’s vocals on the bridge were particularly nice. The next song was the second to throw me for a loop. I didn’t recognize it from the introduction at all, but then the song doesn’t really have an intro in the recording so that could be why. Keep the Customer Satisfied was about the only guess I could venture, and it was right, but it sure sounded different without that brass section. They skipped a bit of the chorus the first time around but otherwise went all out with this one, making it one of the most rollicking tunes of the night.

I can’t pick a favorite song from this concert, but when I heard that The Only Living Boy in New York was on the set list, I was a bit surprised and very pleased. There were several songs at the concert which I had never heard them perform together in a live setting before, but this one in particular stood out, largely because of how very personal it was. This was one of three performances of the night which most profoundly affected me, the first being Kathy’s Song and the third, Bridge. All three gave me a strong sense of the depth of their friendship, of the agony and ecstacy their relationship encompassed. Paul introduced it by saying he had written it for Artie when was in Mexico filming Catch-22. Just that sentence or two set the tone for the song, forlorn and affectionate. This clearly was something special; to emphasize it, the Jumbotron broadcast Paul in black and white.

Those familiar with the history of Bridge Over Troubled Water know that, while this album was hugely successful, it was fraught with tensions and difficulties. Not least among these was the fact that Paul and Roy couldn’t do that much work on the album with Art down in Mexico working on the movie. From a practical standpoint, Art’s absence was detrimental to the production of the album. But that isn’t what comes across in this song. It’s not frustration that Art’s alternate project was taking so long or anger that when they did get together they had trouble agreeing on what to put on the album. This song comes down to friendship, pure and simple. Paul’s good buddy Artie is far away, and he misses having him around. But he also wants him to know that he cares enough about him to let him go his own way, even if that way is in the opposite direction.

Paul sang the song by himself, at least the address. In my fifteen or so years of listening to Paul sing, I have found that he is a master of melancholy; few singers can convey that state of being as effectively as him. He stood in the center of the stage alone and sent his plaintive message out to Art, and it really did seem as though Art were hundreds of miles away. When it came time for that haunting descant, Art got backup from one of the band members. Their vocals blended beautifully to form a chorus of angelic reassurance to counter Paul’s isolation. I have always read the song as though the descant is Art trying to get through to Paul, across the vast distance that separates them, to comfort him and to tell him that he has not abandoned him, and I have always been left with the feeling that he falls just short of conveying the message. Last night, as the song resolved itself, I got the sense that the gap that had stood in the way for so long had finally, miraculously, been bridged. The glory of the entire tour painstakingly contained in one song. Breathtaking.

Once the song ended, Paul acknowledged the man who had been singing with Art, after which Art piped up, “What about me?” This brief moment of levity preceded my favorite song from Paul’s solo years, and probably Art’s favorite as well. In his introduction to American Tune, which he performs in his solo concerts to great effect, he said it was one song which he wished had been written when Simon and Garfunkel were still together. He expressed his love of the song enthusiastically before singing it, and just after it ended, he announced, “I adore that song!” The vocal arrangement was slightly different this time than when they performed the song during the Concert in the Park. This time, Art sang the first verse himself, Paul the second himself, Art the first half of the bridge, Paul the second half, and then they sang the last verse together. Beautiful and haunting, and fascinating to see the different interpretations Paul and Art brought to it. Art’s rendition was wistful, with just a tinge of hope, while Paul’s seemed mired in despair. The interplay was particularly suited to follow Only Living Boy, and the mix of hope and hopelessness was just as effective here.

My Little Town was another rocker, accompanied by reddish lights that flooded the arena. It was a good change of pace after two of the night’s most solemn songs, particularly considering the grandiosity that would follow it. The crowd had fun with it; some folks up in the nosebleeds maybe had a little too much fun, coming up with crazy dances to fit this and other more energetic tunes.

Next was the point in the concert that everyone both anticipated and dreaded. Once we heard those opening notes of Bridge, we knew that the conclusion of the concert could not be far away. Nonetheless, we sat rapt, too caught up in the moment to care much about what was going to happen after this song. I once more found myself jealous of Warren Bernhardt, whose brilliant piano playing formed an essential undercurrent to the song, like the rippling of that troubled water. Art stepped out into the spotlight after Warren’s piano intro set the tone and launched into what seemed to me the most vulnerable performance of that first verse I have ever heard. Perhaps I only imagined it, but it looked and sounded to me as though Art was nearly overcome with emotion as he sang, battling tears as he gently guided that verse to its conclusion.

But the real surprise for the audience was when the second verse began with not Art but Paul. I had heard that Paul would be joining Art on the song so it wasn’t a complete shock to me, but I got the impression that it really floored the majority of the audience. As he began, a spontaneous cheer arose from the crowd. Here was something you didn’t hear every day. Not only was Paul singing the second verse a great strategy to jar the audience from their expectation, it was also the perfect verse for him to sing alone, as it is the darkest and most melancholy of the three. The two sang together on the third verse, with Paul taking the harmony but stepping aside for the last couple lines to relinquish the spotlight to Art.

It is ironic that this song which is such a great testament to unity should have been a source of dissension for its creators. But even though Paul presented the song to Art as a gift, he found it frustrating that this song so often viewed as their crowning achievement was almost exclusively associated with Art. Seeing them share the song last night brought the same feeling of reparation as Only Living Boy in New York. Paul and Art got almost equal time. They were able to carry the song together. Then when it finally came down to the wire, to that glory note that Art is so famous for, Paul graciously stepped aside so his friend could bring the song to the grandest of conclusions. And Art did not disappoint. In fact, I have seen him perform the song live three times and on live television appearances several more times, and this was the strongest Bridge ending I have ever heard. As he sustained the note for what seemed like an impossible length of time, the crowd rose as one in a scene that reminded me of the inspiring en masse rising of the crowd toward the end of Angels in the Outfield. Here there was a similar sense that we were a part of something big, something awe-inspiring, drawing strength from one another. Art and Paul took their time exiting the stage, and they were gone for a full two minutes, but we were still on our feet applauding loudly when they returned for their first encore.

Now it was just time to have a bit of fun with Cecilia as the first song in the first encore. While I confess that I rather missed Tommy Igoe’s dizzying percussion performance from Art’s solo concerts, this rendition was just as engaging. We stayed on our feet and had a grand old time. The arrangement was different enough on this song to bear mentioning. Several lines were repeated or elongated, and there was a final emphasis on the word “jubilation,” drawn out and richly harmonic, that accentuated the joy of the finale.

After Cecilia, they finally played The Boxer, another of the most perfect examples of the Simon and Garfunkel harmony as well as an epic story of survival. When they got to the chorus, they invited the audience to join in on the “lie la lie” part, which we gladly did. Featured in this song was a strange instrument unfamiliar to me which produced the haunting bridge between the second verse and chorus. Whatever it was, it was impressive. Oddly enough, Paul and Art omitted the additional verse which was not included on the original recording but which they did sing in recent television appearances. With its theme of the passage of time, it seems like it would be especially appropriate for this tour. The song was fine without it, though, and earned another standing ovation from the crowd.

After this, they left again. One lucky fellow in the front row scored a high-five from Paul on his way off the stage. But a minute later they were back again, this time to sing a song Paul said they had not performed together since 1967. “Well,” he corrected, “actually, we sang it last night. But before that, not since 1967.” Leaves That Are Green would have brought the concert full circle from Old Friends. Another reflection on mortality and the passage of time, this song tackles it from a very youthful perspective. On Art Garfunkel’s website (www.artgarfunkel.com, featuring the finest message board for Simon and Garfunkel fans on the web), there had been a discussion of whether the lyrics to this song might change slightly if they sang it during the tour. Specifically: “I was 21 years when I wrote this song. I’m 62 now, but I won’t be for long.” Nope. Still 22. But there was a particular poignancy about this song, which started with Paul solo, moved into Art solo, and concluded with them in harmony. Its simplicity and sadness, the heart-rending “that’s all there is,” the too-cheery music for the too-dreary words... Lovely and affecting, but I’m glad they went out on a happier note than that.

The last song of the entire concert was Feelin’ Groovy, and you really got the impression that they meant it. In spite of everything, the passage of years, the toils and tribulations they both have suffered, life is good now for Artie and Paul. This was another get up and dance number, and Art did a bit of this up on stage. Paul, meanwhile, showed his virtuosity as a whistler. We celebrated life and, in particular, these two lives so deeply entwined which have brought us such joy over the years. And then we were done, left with Art and Paul’s gratitude and their music ringing in our ears as we streamed out of the arena. Thus ended the concert of a lifetime.

Observations

What can I say? Simon and Garfunkel are legends. Seeing them perform together was an amazing opportunity I thought I might never have. The first thing that struck me when they took the stage and began to perform was how loud they sounded. This is a rather silly observation, I suppose; when you’re playing to “ten thousand people, maybe more,” you’ve gotta have that amp cranked up. Nonetheless, I felt as though I was hearing their music in a way that I never had before, beyond just the sheer thrill of being in the same room in which they were performing. Being a part of such a massive crowd for this concert was a pretty impressive experience as well. When that many people rise to their feet and cheer, it’s an amazing thing to be a part of. And I don’t believe my brother and I were the only Gen Xers there, either. True, when Art asked who remembered the early sixties a large cheer went up, but Simon and Garfunkel have loyal fans of all ages. I was proud to be among them.

And what of the Old Friends themselves? Utterly fantastic. One thing that struck me in comparison to the 1981 concert was how Art held his own this time around. While he was clearly “blissed out” during the Concert in the Park, it seemed as though it was maybe a bit much for him to handle. I got the impression he felt rather shy and self-conscious before the massive crowd and was content to let Paul take the lead. Here, he spoke as much as, if not more than, Paul and seemed completely at ease on the stage. He also made a deliberate effort to perform for the folks sitting behind the stage. His was the first and last comment of the concert, and when he told the audience, as he always does, that we had charmed his life, as well as Paul’s in this case, it was the perfect words to have lingering in our ears as we left. That’s not to say that Paul was any less effective in his interaction with the audience. His introduction to the Everly Brothers was particularly witty and warm, and his words prior to Only Living Boy were most endearing.

Having been to the American Idol concert in July, which featured, among other things, a constant change of outfits and a crew of back-up dancers, I was refreshed once again to see Art and Paul come just as they were, no frills, no distractions. Heck, there they were on a history-making reunion tour, and they spent the whole two-hour set (which, by the way, had no intermission, though people were free to come and go as they pleased) in jeans and black t-shirts. What you see is what you get with these guys. Let me tell you, I like what I see.

Aside from the lighting effects and the Jumbotron, both of which were extremely well done, the only addition to Simon and Garfunkel were seven instrumentalists of the enormous talent required to bring the proper texture to each of the songs they performed. All are incredibly versatile, brilliant musicians: the aforementioned Warren Bernhardt on piano, Jamey Haddad on percussion, Jim Keltner on drums, Pino Palladino on bass, Rob Schwimmer on keyboards, and Mark Stewart and Larry Saltzman on guitar. All added depth and flair to the evening. But I was also struck once more by Paul’s incredible adeptness with the guitar. He truly is a masterful player, and I think he should definitely have been included in Rolling Stone’s recent list of 100 greatest guitarists. His voice, meanwhile, is of a unique timber and possesses a compelling lonesome quality, while Art’s soaring tenor can still carry the most challenging of tunes. Beyond their abilities, there is still the matter of their renewed friendship, which is of even greater value to many of their fans than the chance to see them perform together. The affection is apparent, and I don’t see estrangement any time in the near future.

Final Thoughts

When asked once what he was feeling standing before all those cheering fans in Central Park in 1981, Art replied simply, “love.” As a member of the audience last night, I felt the same vibe, surging from us but also back to us. This concert is more than two guys getting together and singing a bunch of good songs. It’s a testament to the enduring power of beauty and friendship, despite the hurdles both encounter. The songs remain, in spite of a constantly changing culture. They remain as powerful today as the day they were written. And the friendship remains, tested to the breaking point but stronger now than ever. In an uncertain world, these two men present a vision of comfort. That no matter how dark life gets, there is always hope, and no matter how much troubled water has passed under the bridges we build between one another, the foundation can withstand the strain. This is love. This is endurance. This is their lasting legacy.

For Anyone Who's Ever Loved a Dog

Four weeks ago today was September 11, the second anniversary of one of the most tragic days in American history. It was also the day I found out my dog Sandy's kidneys had stopped working. She had been in good health up until a couple weeks before, and when we had taken her to the vet a week earlier he said she probably had tapeworms. She was 13, but we thought she had at least another year or two in her. We brought her home that evening and stayed with her for the next two days. She died in our living room on Saturday night.

I haven't felt much like writing since then, but since the Livingston Taylor concert prompted me to break my review silence, I figured I should get the ball rolling again. And how better to do it than with a review of one of my all-time favorite books, particularly appropriate to this time in my life? I read Where the Red Fern Grows in sixth grade. I believe it was the first, and still one of the only, books that made me cry. You know what you're in for from the outset of the novel; the narrator tells you up front. But that doesn't make it any easier to read when the time comes.

Where the Red Fern Grows is a tale of the bond a boy shares with his canine companions. It's a theme that has been revisited many times, but with the exception of Old Yeller, I can't think of a more heart-rending take on the theme. The boy in question is a 10-year-old lad named Billy Coleman who lives in the Ozarks and dreams of owning a pair of hunting dogs. His family is poor and can't afford to buy him the dogs he wants, so he spends two years taking odd jobs to earn the money for the hounds himself. When he finally has all the cash he needs, he walks all the way to town to pick them up, deeply impressing the local sheriff. This is a kid who knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it.

He names the hounds Old Dan and Little Ann and spends the majority of the book training them and gallavanting through the woods on hunting adventures with them. With Billy's patience and Dan and Ann's skill and devotion to him, they become the best coon-hunting dog team for miles around. Some good, sound advice from Grandpa doesn't hurt either. Billy's dogs are the hounds of his dreams, but the older Billy has already warned us that this dream is not destined to last as long as it should. The intrepid trio deal with heartache in their journeys, but nothing can compare to their final gut-wrenching adventure. If you can avoid it, don't read those last couple chapters in public. It's no use trying to disguise those sniffles.

Where the Red Fern Grows is a homespun tale of the triumphs and tragedies of growing up. The words flow with such natural beauty, taking the readers to a simpler time and place. And the development of Billy's relationship with his dogs is something any dog lover can readily appreciate. I find it very hard to rank books in terms of favorites, but this one has to fall in my top five. It's one of those books I think everyone ought to read at some time or another.

As my luck would have it, I discovered that this book that I have so carefully stored on my shelf for years mysteriously disappeared when I needed it most. I still don't know where it went, but it looks like it's time to admit defeat and buy another copy. This is one book I cannot do without, particularly now that I finally can truly empathize with Billy. If you've never read it, open it up one of these days. You won't regret it.

Livingston Taylor Lives Up to the Family Name in Erie, PA October 4

I am a big fan of James Taylor, but I had never heard of his brother Livingston before this week. That was when I read that he would appear in concert this past Saturday with the Erie Philharmonic. Unfamiliar as I was, I had a hunch that the talent ran in the family. The article certainly presented Taylor as the type of artist I would enjoy seeing perform. So on Saturday night, my dad and I headed over to First Assembly of God and bought last-minute tickets for $10.

While I would have expected the cheapest tickets to land us somewhere in the nosebleed section, they weren't marked with a particular seat assignment so we were told we could sit anywhere except the "A" section. That landed us eight rows from the stage. A pleasant surprise, but this was a church after all, and "the last shall become first" was true in this case! The Erie Philharmonic generally performs at the Warner Theater, but it is under renovations so First Assembly offered its space as a replacement. It worked very nicely as a concert hall.

I have been to concerts of this type before, most notably when I saw Art Garfunkel in Pittsburgh and Buffalo. In both of those cases, the Philharmonic performed alone during the first half, and Art came out for the second half. That was the plan for this show, but they decided to change it up a bit. The Philharmonic, under the direction of Jeff Tyzik, performed a number of hymns and spirituals; I wonder if the location had anything to do with that? The orchestra played Tyzik's arrangement of Amazing Grace, which he said was supposed to present a feeling of unity. The Mercyhurst College Choir lent their vocals to Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, John Williams' Hymn to the Fallen, and a spiritual by Erie native Harry Burleigh.

Livingston came out to do a couple of songs before the intermission. He wore a vest and a blue bow tie and bore quite a resemblance to James, an impression that was only strengthened when I heard him sing. His voice is lower than his brother's but very similar in tone. He sang I Will Be In Love With You and Glad I Know You Well before the break; both were very nice songs, and his guitar picking skills were impressive.

From the start, he seemed like a very down-to-earth and friendly person, bantering back and forth easily with Tyzik as though they were old friends and grinning throughout. He commented that he is generally used to playing for audiences half the size of the orchestra so that was taking some getting used to! I got the impression that he does most of his gigs on his own. He didn't have a band with him on this night.

The Philharmonic's performance of Aaron Copeland's Rodeo was moved to the beginning of the second half, leaving Livingston time to grab a bite to eat after the intermission crowd had died down. My dad and I bumped into him on our way back and directed him towards the concessions, assuring him that they had coffee. The Copeland movements were fun, culminating in the familiar soundtrack for the "Beef: It's What's For Dinner" commercials. After this, Livingston was ready to take the stage once again.

He started out with Somewhere Over the Rainbow, including a little-heard introductory verse to the song. From there, he sang When Sunny Gets Blue, getting down off the stage at one point to dance with a woman in the front row. He gave a nod to his famous brother by singing Carolina On My Mind and let the brass section shine on Blind, a song he had written as a teenager.

Perhaps the most entertaining performance of the evening was the Railroad Medley, including I've Been Working on the Railroad, Chattanooga Choo Choo, Atcheson, Topeka & Santa Fe, and The Trolley Song. He was incredibly animated throughout this performance, acting out the songs from chugging along like a locomotive for the first song to panicking over the attentions of a girl in the last. I wonder if this is a medley he usually performs or if it was specific to this concert, as he noted that our city is right in the rust belt and that railroads have played a big part in Erie's development.

The regular set ended with Banjo Extravaganza, which he introduced by playing Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring on the banjo and commenting on his love of the instrument. He said he was going to play a little something that he didn't expect the Philharmonic to know but that they should feel welcome to fill in should they feel so inclined. He began playing, and gradually more and more of the orchestra joined in, starting with percussion and branching out. When he ended the song, the orchestra kept on playing, so he had to work himself back into the song for a grand finale. This was also a very entertaining performance that reminded me a lot of Eric Weissberg and Warren Bernhardt's Dueling Banjos at Art Garfunkel's concert in Erie.

After receiving a standing ovation, Livingston came back for one a capella encore, a spiritual-like tribute entitled Grandma's Hands. All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening, well worth the ticket price. I only wish he had sold some albums there, because I would have bought one. I now have another Taylor to add to my list of admired musicians. Livingston is not as widely known as his brother, but from what I saw at this concert he shares many of the qualities that I admire in James. His discography is also quite impressive, so finding an album or two of his shouldn't be very difficult. I imagine that the concerts he usually does, without a backing orchestra, have a very different feel to them but are also very enjoyable. I would certainly recommend him to any fans of his brother or of mellow music in general.