Celebrating Paul Simon's 70th Birthday With Graceland

Today is the 70th birthday of Paul Simon, my favorite living singer-songwriter. While that is a major milestone for everyone, it’s particularly significant for Paul, since one of the songs that he wrote for the lauded Bookends album contained the line, “Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be 70…” I knew I wanted to recognize his birthday with a review, but I covered Bookends years ago, so instead I opted for something from his solo catalog. Graceland, released in the mid-1980s, is an acclaimed creative experiment incorporating numerous styles of music, most notably ones from South Africa. Paul’s focus for this project ended up introducing these types of music to whole new audiences, and South African vocal group Ladysmith Black Mambazo gained worldwide attention. When it comes to solo albums, Graceland is one of the great ones.

The Boy in the Bubble - Forere Motloheloa, who shares composing credits with Paul on this one, plays the accordion that is so pervasive on this track. The synthesizers and pounding percussion also offset Paul’s rather rambling lyrics filled with intriguing images. The peppy, soulful feel of this song sets a tone of musical playfulness and spiritual exploration for the rest of the album. “These are the days of miracle and wonder, this is the long distance call, the way the camera follows us in slo-mo, the way we look to us all, the way we look to a distant constellation that’s dying in a corner of the sky…”

Graceland - Guitars and percussion provide a driving rhythm here that captures the sense of an epic pilgrimage. It reminds me of a locomotive, which feels appropriate for a song about traveling long distances. Demola Adepoju’s pedal steel guitar adds an irresistible flavor to the melody, which communicates a sense of yearning and excitement. The characters in this song, much like those profiled in Slip Slidin’ Away, are broken and in search of renewal. While this is about Elvis Presley’s estate on one level, “Graceland” seems to represent something deeper. The chorus, enhanced by the harmonies of the Everly Brothers, who were such essential influences for Simon and Garfunkel, takes on a profoundly spiritual quality, with the speaker seeking the redemption to be found in a land of grace. “There’s some part of me wants to see Graceland, and I may be obliged to defend every love, every ending, or maybe there’s no obligations now. Maybe I’ve a reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.”

I Know What I Know - This is a very noisy song co-composed by General M.D. Shirinda and accompanied by the shrill but intriguing vocals of The Gaza Sisters. I don’t know what it is that they’re singing underneath the chorus here, but it seems to fit with the scene the song sets of two people chattering rather mindlessly in the midst of a crowd. I don’t find this one very melodic, but it captures the awkwardness of small talk even between two people who seem to want to get to know each other better. Like Boy in the Bubble, it has a bit of a rambly feel to it, especially when he tosses out the six-syllable word “cinematographer’s.” “She looked me over and I guess she thought I was all right, all right in a sort of limited way for an off-night…”

Gumboots - A very fast-paced song, which makes sense since each verse involves some sort of speedy action – riding in a cab, running at a brick wall, putting the moves on someone you’ve just met. This song, co-composed by Lulu Masilela and Jonhjon Mkhalali, takes its cues from the South African style of jive music known as mbaqanga and is partly performed by the Boyoyo Boys. The accordion returns here, and saxophones get a few bars to themselves in this upbeat number celebrating optimism in the face of defeat.  "You don't feel you could love me, but I feel you could."

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes - I’ll always have a soft spot for this song because it was introduced to me by Ian, a classmate who was one of the few people I knew in high school who expressed as deep a fondness for Paul Simon’s music as I did. He brought the recording to class for a presentation one day, and though my familiarity with Paul’s solo work was pretty limited at that point, it always stuck with me. A story of love amid economic disparity, this appealingly repetitive song is the longest on the album by more than a minute. The heavily harmonic a cappella intro that Paul does with Ladysmith Black Mambazo is my favorite part of the song, closely followed by the more instrumental outro, but the rest of the track is great as well, with its almost cacophonous mix of instruments and its persistent percussion. “People say she’s crazy, she’s got diamonds on the soles of her shoes. Well, that’s one way to lose these walking blues.”

You Can Call Me Al - This peculiar but absolutely infectious song is one of my favorites on the album in large part because of that goofy video Paul did with Chevy Chase. It must’ve been ridiculously inexpensive to make since it’s nothing but the two of them in a nearly-empty room, with Paul occasionally picking up instruments but mostly just looking bored while Chevy expressively lip-synchs. It’s got to be about the least complicated music video I’ve ever seen, but it completely cracks me up every time. The song seems to be about a mid-life crisis, with the speaker feeling unsatisfied with the opportunities that have been given to him. The blast of the brass instruments and the sprightly notes of Morris Goldberg’s pennywhistle add musical interest in this popular plea for a more comprehensible life. “If you’ll be my bodyguard, I can be your long-lost pal. I can call you Betty, and Betty, when you call me, you can call me Al.”

Under African Skies - Prolific and eclectic recording artist Linda Ronstadt harmonizes with Paul on this melodic song with an upbeat tone to it. I love the percussion and the way the voices complement each other as he describes two very distinct individuals. It seems to be a tribute to Joseph Shabalala, who shares writing credits with Paul on two songs on the album, and to Ronstadt, each an exceptional musician a world apart from each other but united in their collaboration with Paul on Graceland. “Joseph’s face was black as night. The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes. His path was marked by the stars in the Southern hemisphere, and he walked his days under African skies.”

Homeless - Shabalala co-wrote this eerily beautiful a cappella song that features more Zulu than English. The harmonies are gorgeous, with the deepest voices in Ladysmith Black Mambazo giving the music greater heft. Paul’s voice is only prominent in a small portion of the song; I’m not clear on whether he’s silent the rest of the time or simply overpowered by Shabalala and the strong voices of the rest of the chanting group. This song about loss and isolation is curiously incongruous because of the sense of brotherhood the harmonies create. It becomes an anthem of solidarity and looking out for each other when the tumults of life strike. “Homeless, homeless. Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake. Homeless, homeless. Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake.”

Crazy Love Vol. II - This song with the rather perplexing title and a series of odd images – particularly the character Fat Charlie the Archangel – is performed with the group Stimela. It’s a peppy song full of fun instruments and ardent declarations of disinterest. The lyrics to the chorus are very repetitive, but they work well. “I don’t want no part of this crazy love. I don’t want no part of your love.”

That Was Your Mother - A fast-paced song that makes me think of the sitcom How I Met Your Mother, as that seems to be the theme here, rather like the cheerfully nostalgic Neil Byrne song Sadie Jones and I. We have accordion again here, this time played by Alton Rubin, Sr., and Paul is joined by the group Good Rockin’ Dopsie and the Twisters. A fun and rather manic track with a distinct dialect. “Well, that was your mother and that was your father before you were born, dude, when life was great. You are the burden of my generation. I sure do love you, but let’s get that straight.”

All Around the World or The Myth of Fingerprints -Los Lobos contribute to this final track on the album. It’s a very melodic song, and I especially like the vocalizations at the end. This song seems to be touching upon big issues, though I can’t quite figure out what’s he’s talking about with the myth of the fingerprints. Ultimately there seems to be a message in there somewhere about having the guts to start over and try something totally different. “Over the mountain, down in the valley, lives the former talk-show host, and far and wide his name was known. He said there’s no doubt about it. It was the myth of the fingerprints; that’s why we must learn to live alone.”

Arguably the most repeated quote from LOST, my favorite TV show, is “If we can’t live together, we’re gonna die alone.” It’s a statement of intercultural cooperation that seems especially pertinent here. With Graceland, Paul Simon shows listeners both how big and how small the world really is.

Dueling Perspectives Accentuate the Communication Gap in Rob Reiner's Flipped

One of my favorite moments in all of LOST occurs in season three, when we get a glimpse into the childhood of Benjamin Linus, arguably the most complex character in the series. In this scene, a girl named Annie shows him two dolls she has made, one to represent her, the other him. She presents him with the Annie doll and explains, “Now we never have to be away from each other.”

It’s a shining moment of true friendship in the otherwise deeply troubled life of a Machiavelli in the making. So powerful was its impact that although she only appeared in that episode, Annie remains one of my favorite characters on the show. When I discovered that Flipped, a 2010 Rob Reiner film I found while browsing IMDb, features Madeline Carroll, the actress who portrayed Annie, I knew I had to rent it. The cover photograph of two 14-year-old friends sharing a tree perch, reminiscent of Annie and Ben sharing a swing set, was the icing on the cake.

In Flipped, adapted from the Wendelin Van Draanen novel by Reiner and Andrew Scheinman, Carroll plays Juli Baker, an eighth grader who has been smitten with her neighbor, Bryce Loski (Callan McAuliffe), ever since he moved in across the street six years earlier. Bryce considers her more of a nuisance than a real friend, while she treasures their relationship and imagines that his feelings run deeper than he is willing to let on. It’s the early 1960s, and painful secrets lurk beneath the surface of a seemingly placid neighborhood. Everything is about to get more complicated for both Juli and Bryce, and how they relate to one another will have an important effect on their lives in this year of transition.

The look and feel of the movie is appealing, with Thomas Del Ruth’s sunny cinematography reflecting the innocence of the chief characters, while early sock hop hits pepper the soundtrack. Bryce watches Bonanza with his family; Juli confesses to a crush on the Everly Brothers and can’t decide which of the duo she prefers. Both of the central families are close-knit but don’t speak with each other as freely as they should; the communication gap there mirrors the chasm that exists between Bryce and Juli.

In Juli’s family, the most engaging character is her eccentric dad (Aidan Quinn), who looks at the world with an artist’s eye but fails to see that his unkempt lawn has become the bane of the neighborhood. The family is struggling, but we don’t really understand why until an eye-opening visit with Juli’s uncle (Kevin Weisman) partway through the movie. Her mother (Penelope Ann Miller) is frustrated but kind, and both parents encourage the musical aspirations of her twin brothers (Michael Bolten and Shane Harper).

Cheerful teens Mark and Matt spend a lot of time with Bryce’s older sister Lynetta (Cody Horn), much to the disapproval of Bryce’s spiteful father (Anthony Edwards), who has had nothing good to say about the Baker clan from day one. Bryce’s mother (Rebecca de Mornay) is more understanding, but it’s his withdrawn, widowed grandfather, Chet (John Mahoney), who has the largest role to play thanks to his fondness for Juli, which gradually brings him out of his shell and helps to bridge the division that develops between the youngsters.

While I found this movie thoroughly enjoyable on several levels, what appealed to me most is the way we alternate between Bryce and Juli’s perspectives. One narrates for a while, and then we switch over to the other, usually with some overlap that gives us a very different reading on what we just saw in the previous scene. Bryce’s narration, especially toward the beginning, is a bit aggressive; he just can’t understand why Juli won’t leave him alone, and he would be mortified to realize that she thinks he is giving off encouraging signals.

Meanwhile, her tone is generally dreamy; she spends a lot of time with her head in the clouds, which may partly account for the disconnect between her perceptions and reality. Bryce thinks she’s a loon, but Chet, who begins spending his afternoons helping her landscape her front lawn, insists she’s special. Finally, Bryce’s impression of her begins to change, but not before his insensitivity causes Juli to seriously reconsider her long-held affections…

McAuliffe, who I’d never encountered before, turns in a good performance as Bryce, who generally comes across as shallower than Juli but matures as the year progresses. However, it was Carroll who really impressed me. Of course, I was predisposed to like Juli because of LOST and Chet because of Frasier, so that may have influenced me, but I generally found that Juli’s half of the storyline was more poignant and profound. Most often, her problems are more pressing, and she reacts with more compassion to the trials of others.

Chet’s admiration for her blooms after she makes a brave stand to save the majestic sycamore tree that serves as her favorite thoughtful spot, and she takes it upon herself to beautify her family’s property, accepting her neighbor’s aid in part because she realizes his need for kindred companionship. Later, she comes to understand the painful truth behind her family’s financial difficulties, and her kindness compels her to make a surprising decision during a school fundraiser. Carroll has more dramatic material to work with, while McAuliffe’s veers more often toward the comical.

Flipped is a mirthful movie that exposes the very different ways in which people, especially teenage boys and girls, think. It’s common for one person to be completely oblivious to something the other thinks is obvious, and these missed signals have great comedic heft. At the same time, all these misunderstandings have the capacity to derail a friendship, and one wonders while watching whether it might be better if two people in such a situation could simply, as Gordon Lightfoot wistfully proposed, read each other’s minds. Or would knowing too much present just as many pitfalls as not knowing enough?

What is clear after watching the movie is that everyday interactions only skim the surface of a person’s innermost thoughts, and whether you’re 14 or 41, delving deeper is a dance whose complicated choreography is never the same for any two people. For Juli and Bryce, the steps are awkward indeed, but the final waltz is as graceful as the slope of a sycamore limb under a fiery sky.