Number 3200: Celebrate Thanksgiving Today and Every Day With John Bucchino's Grateful

Last year, in recognition of Thanksgiving, the lovely Nicole started a write-off focusing on gratitude. If you’re looking for a smile over the next few days, I recommend reading the entries and reflecting on the blessings in your own life. This year, I decided to aim for reaching my 3200nd post here on Thanksgiving and commemorating it with Grateful: A Song of Giving Thanks, a picture book that wonderfully expresses an outlook on the world that should not be limited to just late November.

Grateful is a part of The Julie Andrews Collection, which includes books “that nurture the imagination and celebrate a sense of wonder.” Naturally, as someone who counts Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music as favorite movies, the Julie Andrews recommendation intrigued me, but I came to this book primary through another avenue: Art Garfunkel.

While the song was written by John Bucchino and the book is illustrated by Anna-Liisa Hakkarainen, I became familiar with it more than a decade ago when Garfunkel recorded it for his Across America special. This book includes a new recording of the song by him. The words in the book and on the CD are the same, so it’s easy to listen and follow along in the book, letting the gentle piano music with hints of violin complement Hakkarainen’s warm illustrations while the words float along on Garfunkel’s honeyed vocals. Additionally, for the musically inclined, the final four pages of the book feature sheet music for the song.

Aside from a couple of two-page spreads, the book follows the format of painting on the left, words on the right. Most pages have two or four lines, while a few have one or five. The words are general enough that most of them feel fairly universal, mentioning things that usually come up in a Thanksgiving reflection: family, friends, faith, along with earthier needs like shelter. Several different children of various nationalities appear together on one page, emphasizing how many people have these same things to be thankful for.

The lyrics themselves aren’t affixed to any particular time of year, while the illustrations move us along from autumn to winter, spring and finally summer. Still, while the actual holiday of Thanksgiving is never mentioned or depicted, this is an ideal book for the holiday as thanksgiving is its whole purpose. Because of that, I think my favorite painting is the two-page spread of the girl wandering through a fiery autumnal landscape, her blue coat standing out amidst all the blazing orange. This accompanies the first iteration of the chorus, the simple “Grateful, grateful, truly grateful I am. Grateful, grateful, truly blessed and duly grateful.”

My favorite lines, meanwhile, are probably these ones right near the middle: “I feel a hand holding my hand. It’s not a hand you can see. But on the road to the promised land, this hand will shepherd me…” It’s a beautiful image for a powerful belief. This book and song make for a great boost to the spirits any time of year, but on a day when the idea of giving thanks looms so large in the thoughts of so many, I can think of few better books with which to celebrate than Grateful.

Celebrating Art Garfunkel's 70th Birthday With Breakaway

“How terribly strange to be 70…” In the late 1960s, Paul Simon wrote those words, and Art Garfunkel sang them. At the time, they were young 20-somethings thinking ahead to old age, and their morose vision of 70 has little to do with the still-robust men they are today. Nonetheless, that age has always loomed as especially significant. Paul reached it three weeks ago, and today it’s Art’s turn. As Art’s place as my favorite living singer was cemented when I spoke with him briefly 11 years ago, I knew I’d have to find some way of marking this day, so I thought I’d turn my attention to Breakaway, one of the few solo Garfunkel albums I haven’t already reviewed. Produced, with the exception of one track, by Richard Perry, it’s an excellent example of Art’s skill as a vocalist and musical interpreter.

I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever) - Most of the songs on this album have mingled threads of romance and melancholy, so this piano-driven Stevie Wonder song is a good way to kick off the album. It’s an optimistic song, but there’s a lot of pain behind the hopeful words; it’s clear that this guy has been through a few relationships that haven’t worked out so well. Anguish tinges Art’s voice in the first verse, while the second feels less extreme. The chorus is the real kicker, though, especially the extended repetition at the end as he harmonizes with himself, flirting with the melody but rarely hitting it dead on as though to suggest that what he wants is within reach but he’s just not quite there yet. “I believe when I fall in love with you it will be forever. I believe when I fall in love, this time, it will be forever.”

Rag Doll - This song has a gentle lullaby feel to it with delicate chimes and soft percussion evocative of raindrops. Regret is the driving theme here as he sings of a woman who seems to have been just a shade offbeat. It seems that her oddity embarrassed him and it was only after he rejected her that he truly realized what a remarkable person he had lost. The tone here reminds me of Jack Shephard at the midpoint of LOST making a startling declaration about reclaiming the destiny he never wanted; he sounds very determined, but it seems most unlikely that what he desires will actually come about. Stirring. “The wind in the trees sings a sad, sad, sad song. I lie in my bed listenin’ all night long.”

Break Away - This, too, is about a fractured relationship, and while the tone is romantic, it’s hard not to read it in the context of Simon and Garfunkel, whose need for artistic space turned into a permanent breakup. Whether a singing partnership or a romance, the gist is similar; he wants to give the other person freedom but fears the consequences of a departure. Will he be left alone permanently? This was the first song on the album that I heard, and it remains one of my favorites. These days, it reminds me of Train’s Drops of Jupiter; she’s searching for herself, he’s torn between saying, “Go for it!” and “Please don’t go.” It’s sort of the opposite of Kelly Clarkson’s song of the same name, as she is the one leaving, while he is the one being left. The keyboard adds to the upbeat tone, and I love the bright vocal layers on the chorus, but this seems to be one of those songs that sounds a lot more cheerful than it actually is. “It’s not the place you’re goin’ to; it’s just a phase you’re goin’ through. Though I won’t stop you, I don’t want you to break away, fly across your ocean…”

Disney Girls - This mellow Beach Boys classic written by Bruce Johnston expresses a yearning for more innocent days gone by. The longest song on the album by more than half a minute, it’s an ideal vehicle for Art because of those exceptional Beach Boy harmonies. It too has a wistful quality to it, but the focus is on the beauty of those blissful days he’s not ready to relinquish. There’s a sense that he won’t be able to hang onto his personal Neverland forever, but for the time being, he’s going to try his hardest to live carefree. From the laid-back guitar and smooth woodwinds to the whistling at the end and the little melodic laugh on the chorus, the track certainly captures that breezy feeling. “Reality, it’s not for me, and it makes me laugh. But fantasy world and Disney girls, I’m comin’ back.”

Waters of March - This song, originally written in Portuguese by Brazilian musician Antonio Carlos Jobim, who also wrote the English lyrics, is a peculiar list of nouns. It’s made up of clipped sentences containing only a few words, and many of them begin with the words “It’s” or “It is.” The song reads a bit like one long word-association exercise; one image leads naturally to another and then another, but compare the images in one verse with another and you might not see a strong connection. There is a definite South American flavor to this guitar-driven reflection on life and all its little pleasures and discomforts. His delivery is very deliberate here as though this were a speech therapy exercise; each word is carefully pronounced, so although it’s an exhausting list, none of the lyrics are difficult to understand. “And the riverbank talks of the waters of March. It’s the promise of life; it’s the joy in your heart.”

My Little Town - It’s just a tad amusing that Simon and Garfunkel’s first post-breakup recording together would appear on an album entitled Breakaway. It also appeared on Paul’s Still Crazy After All These Years; the two titles juxtaposed are suggestive of the personal and professional tug-of-war that marked much of their association with each other in the post-duo decades. A part of them wants to just make a clean break, but ultimately, the friendship, messy as it may be at times, is just too important. At any rate, while this is a reunion, it’s also a song that reflects the album title, since it speaks of a hometown as a place of stagnation. It’s as though the speaker is trying to look back on his childhood fondly but just can’t quite manage it. The affection is disingenuous; he just wants to shake the dust off his shoes and move on. Paul’s lower voice gives this rather hard-edged song a very different sound than any of the others on the album, and there’s a bit of cognitive dissonance here because the lyrics eschew looking back, but boy, does it do the heart good to hear those voices together again. “And after it rains, there’s a rainbow, but all of the colors are black. It’s not that the colors aren’t there; it’s just imagination they lack. Everything’s the same back in my little town.”

I Only Have Eyes For You - I’ve heard many different versions of this song originally written in 1934, but this low-key version is my favorite. One certainly gets the sense that the speaker’s affections are returned, so this is perhaps the only song on the album without a hint of depression. Of course, tweak the words a tiny bit and it could be a total downer of an unrequited love anthem. Instead, however, the tone is one of pure joy that bubbles up from within him, and it’s just a delight to listen to Art’s delivery here, particularly toward the end when he hits those high notes with such enthusiasm. I also love the dense harmony on the word “garden” in the bridge. The instruments are great, though I would warn against listening to this one on the headphones; the opening bars create a curiously psychedelic ear-ringing effect that takes a few measures to shake. Nonetheless, this straightforward song of unbridled affection is one of his most romantic recordings. “You’re here; so am I. Maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view, and I only have eyes for you.”

Lookin’ for the Right One - I kinda wish this track had gone before the last one so I could think of that song as the sequel to this aching one. There’s a quaver in his voice here as he sings of believing he has found “the right one,” only to be rejected time and again. Piano and guitar team up here for this sorrowful meditation. There’s a moment in the bridge that seems to be a musical quote of George Harrison’s Something, which would be fairly fitting; in fact, it seems to answer the question posed in that song in a far more despairing manner than the Beatles hit suggests. “They say there’s no use runnin’ after somethin’ you’ll never get, but my heart says, ‘Don’t say no.’ Somewhere in this lonesome city is the woman for me; will I wait another lifetime just to keep on looking for the right one?”

99 Miles from L.A. - Considering that Art is a native New Yorker, it’s interesting that the two songs on this album with the strongest positive nostalgic associations have a California connection. I remember reading that Art wasn’t sold on this song at first, but it’s one of the album’s strongest tracks, another expression of romantic regret and longing for reconciliation. I love the steady ripple of the acoustic guitar here and increasingly prominent plinking percussion that imitates the raindrops on his windshield. I’ve always presumed that he is headed to L.A. to connect with the woman he loves, though I suppose it’s possible that’s where he lives. In either case, it would seem that these two live fairly far from each other – though not far enough, perhaps, to merit a plane ticket. How did they meet in the first place? There’s a lot of story simmering under the surface here, and we’re only getting tantalizing hints as he contrasts his memories of their happy times together with his miserable present speeding along the freeway in the rain toward someone who might not want anything to do with him. “Passing the white sandy beach, we’re sailing; turning the radio on, we’re dancing. Ninety-nine miles from L.A., I want you, I need you. Please be there.”

The Same Old Tears On A New Background - This Stephen Bishop song ends the album on a note of feigned optimism. Like Paul’s American Tune, which came out a couple years earlier, it includes a repeated assurance of “I’m alright” that is basically contradicted by everything else in the song. He’s trying to put a brave face on things, but this guy is struggling. The lush piano and string combo here puts me in mind of All I Know, Art’s first smash solo hit, which covers similar thematic territory. A moody conclusion. “It’s the same old me crying the same old tears, and I’ll walk away like I always do, still in love with you…”

I’ll admit that the grainy black-and-white photo of Art with a woman on each arm, surrounded by half-empty wine glasses, is my least favorite of his album covers, particularly because one of the women is smoking a cigarette. Perhaps he was trying to break away from his largely innocent image? I’m not sure, but I could do without it, and I wish the album included something beyond a track list in the way of liner notes. With the music itself, however, I have no complaint, and it holds up well all these years later, when Art is a man of seven decades who can look back on more than half a century as a recording artist and truly be proud of his contributions. Happy 70th, Artie!

My Favorite Versions of Traditional Religious Christmas Songs

It’s always a pleasure singing traditional Christmas carols in church, around the neighborhood or near our little Advent wreath this time of year. But as much as Christmas music is a communal experience, hundreds of musicians have recorded these sacred songs, giving us many different ways to enjoy them. Here are a few of my favorite specific recordings of various religious Christmas songs.

Angels We Have Heard on High – Having just recently seen Straight No Chaser in concert, I have to award them the honor of my favorite version of this celestial-sounding carol. Jerome Collins puts a soulful twist on the melody, and all those gorgeous voices coming together really does sound like a choir of angels. Throw in the visual element of some crystal blue lighting, and the effect is heavenly. “Gloria in Excelsis Deo!” This one is bundled with Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, and it’s a logical pairing; I always have to stop a minute to think about which song is which. Though it’s the former song that makes the bigger impression on me in this mash-up, both are beautifully done. “Hark! The herald angels sing. Glory to the newborn king!”

Away in a Manger – I consider this the most basic of Christmas carols, the first one that most children learn how to sing. There are two different melodies commonly used; I prefer the slightly more somber-sounding one to the one most Sunday school students cut their musical teeth on, but both are lovely. When it comes to conveying sweet simplicity, John Denver is hard to beat, and his gentle acoustic rendition of the “kid” version gets my vote. For the “adult” version, meanwhile, Anne Murray’s heartfelt recording, which incorporates both piano and guitar and includes a nod at the other melody, is my favorite. “Be near me, Lord Jesus. I ask thee to stay close by me forever and love me, I pray…”

Carol of the Bells - It has no words, and it starts out with God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen. It’s a little unconventional. But boy, do I love Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s electrified rendition of this song, which is one of the harder carols to sing anyway. I prefer clutching my invisible hand bells in my fists and ringing them out in time to the music. If you’re going to go with a vocal version of the song, I do love Straight No Chaser’s version of this one too, with the men using their voices to imitate the sound of bells. “Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, ‘Throw cares away.’”

Children, Go Where I Send Thee – This one isn’t exactly as in the mainstream as most of the songs on this list, and it’s a little funny that I like it so much since I find The 12 Days of Christmas so tedious and really, this song only makes marginally more sense than that one. But there’s something so joyful about it, especially when Peter, Paul and Mary, who introduced me to the song, belt it out along with dozens of choir members. “Children, go where I send thee! How shall I send thee? I’m gonna send thee one by one, one for the itty bitty baby who was born, born, born in Bethlehem.”

Do You Hear What I Hear? – This is a song that seems to be very hard to get wrong. I’ve heard probably dozens of versions of it, and everybody, from Kristin Chenoweth to Bob Dylan, seems to bring their A game to this stirring anthem that celebrates the birth of Christ and expresses a desire for peace at a time when the threat of nuclear war hung heavy in the air. But Vanessa Williams’ version has just an extra something in it that puts it at the very top of my ranking. Her vocals are so clear and soulful, and I just love the exuberant instrumentation and African chanting that comes into play later in the song. Whenever this comes on the radio, I’m completely swept away in the wonder of it all. “Said the king to the people everywhere, listen to what I say. Pray for peace people everywhere. Listen to what I say. The child, the child sleeping in the night, he will bring us goodness and light…”

The First Noel - Clay Aiken recorded a Christmas album that came out just a year and a half after he emerged from the second season of American Idol the runner-up. I was pleased with the album, but my favorite Clay Christmas recording remains this song from the American Idol compilation released late in 2003. The sparse accompaniment allows Clay’s voice to truly shine as he builds toward a dramatic finish. This is one of those songs I’ve always liked but that never stood out that much from the pack. Ever since I heard that recording, it does. “Noel, noel, noel, noel. Born is the king of Israel.”

The Friendly Beasts – I really love the traditional rendition on Peter, Paul and Mary’s Christmas album, with each of them taking a verse and doing his or her best to convey the personality of the animal at hand and the choir helping out on the other verses. Meanwhile, the song, with a reworked melody, serves as a cornerstone on Jimmy Webb’s oratorio The Animals’ Christmas; as the only song on the album that Webb didn’t write himself, it brings an air of familiarity to an otherwise wholly original work for which he recruited the vocal talents of Art Garfunkel, Amy Grant and the Kings College School Choir. “Thus, every beast, by some good spell, in the stable rude was glad to tell of the gift he gave Emmanuel…”

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen - They call it Comfort and Joy, which really is probably a better title, albeit less instantly recognizable. Simon and Garfunkel never recorded much Christmas music, but for whatever reason, they did record a couple of traditional carols. While it always seemed to me that Silent Night was used for ironic emphasis, with the exquisite harmonies juxtaposed against the far from tranquil news broadcast, this a cappella rendition with the increasingly complex harmonies can be taken at face value. Just a very nice recording. If you miss the instruments, of course, there’s always Trans-Siberian Orchestra… “Remember Christ the Savior was born on Christmas day to save us all from Satan’s pow’r when we were gone astray. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.”

Good King Wenceslas – My brother recently identified this very old ballad as his favorite Christmas song, and we set out in search of a version to play for him before he set out for college again after our little First Sunday in Advent service at the conclusion of Thanksgiving weekend. He didn’t think much of the Irish Rovers rendition we played; it was much too peppy, he informed us, and he preferred versions that really made us feel that faithful page’s pain. But there’s a lot of joy in this song about a warm and generous monarch whose chief concern is the well-being of one of his poorest citizens, so the Rovers’ exuberant version is fine by me. “Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.”

Joy to the World - This is a wonderfully ecstatic song, but it’s one that’s in danger of getting a little over-the-top, as it does on Clay Aiken’s Christmas album. I prefer versions that show a little restraint before going all-out, and my favorite is Anne Murray’s, backed by some nice Gospel-flavored piano accompaniment and eventually joined by a choir. It works quite nicely and is easy to sing along with. “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let Earth receive her King!”

The Little Drummer Boy – This gentle song about a little boy who gives the best that he has to the Christ Child is representative of a large sub-genre of Christmas stories, most of which are quite touching. The original Harry Simeone version is nice, but as far as basic versions go, I love the punchy way Bob Seger does it. But probably my favorite version is the odd pairing of Bing Crosby and David Bowie, with the counter-melody in which Bowie dreams of a day when people can learn to get along with each other. At first it seemed a bit of a strange juxtaposition to me, but upon reflection, it reminds me of the passage in Isaiah that concludes with “and a little child shall lead them.” Anyway, a very poignant recording, especially considering how late it came in Crosby’s life. “I have no gift to bring, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum, that’s fit to give a king, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum…”

O Come All Ye Faithful - Art Garfunkel recorded this one for some obscure collection a few years back, and it’s the most intricate, exquisite rendition I’ve heard. It’s a shame it’s rather hard to track down. With simple acoustic guitar accompaniment gradually joined by gentle percussion and accordion, what really makes this stand out is the dense layers of Art harmonizing with himself, especially toward the end. I also have to mention Trans-Siberian Orchestra once again, as their reworked rendition is quite moving, and Phil Coulter integrated the song into Christmas Morning Donegal, the haunting, nostalgic ballad that I’ve come to think of as the Celtic Thunder swan song of powerhouse tenor Paul Byrom. This is a song that tends to inspire the best in musicians… “O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!”

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel - I’ve always thought that this Christmas carol had a very Jewish feeling to it, so it seems appropriate for Neil Diamond to take top honors here. His version feels mysterious and solemn, and the pairing with We Three Kings just emphasizes the idea of this birth being a long-anticipated event. “O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel…”

O Little Town of Bethlehem – There are plenty of appropriately somber versions of this song floating around, but my favorite is the peppy, bluegrass-tinged Prairie Home Companion edition, in which it is mashed up with It Came Upon a Midnight Clear and We Three Kings, which makes a smashing chorus. There are much more traditional versions of each carol readily available, but Garrison Keillor and his band really do a bang-up job on this one. “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by…”

Silent Night – Now this is certainly a tough one, since it seems almost everyone who has ever recorded a Christmas album with any religious content at all has recorded this song. I love Simon and Garfunkel’s version, and Prairie Home Companion has an unusually bouncy instrumental version that’s a lot of fun. I find the Muppets’ German rendition quite moving. But I think I gotta go with Celtic Thunder on this one, especially since they paved the way for it by recording Christmas 1915, which incorporates the beloved carol. Their version of Silent Night itself is richly harmonic, with an interesting backing chorus, and one of the verses is entirely in Gaelic. It’s hauntingly beautiful. “Silent night, holy night. Son of God, love’s pure light…”

What Child Is This? - This is a pretty carol with a rather melancholy edge to it, largely because it takes the melody of that lovely lament, Greensleeves. I love John Denver’s simple but heartfelt rendition for all the reasons I love his Away in the Manger, and the faint presence of the harpsichord just makes it all the more appealing. “This, this is Christ the King whom shepherds guard and angels sing…”

O Holy Night - I always tell people that this is my default favorite Christmas song. In the month or two leading up to Christmas, my favorite will change on any given day, but if I’m not particularly gripped by anything at the time, O Holy Night is what I always fall back on. But I don’t have a favorite version. Of all the versions I’ve ever heard, the one that affected me most profoundly was a performance by a seven-year-old girl at a long-ago Christmas pageant. No version I’ve heard since can quite recapture that experience. Preferred versions include Josh Groban’s, Celine Dion’s, Straight No Chaser’s, John Denver’s and Celtic Woman’s, but I’m still on the hunt for that elusive definitive version. If anybody has any recommendations for me, I’d be happy to take them – bonus points if it includes my favorite, often-left-out verse. “Truly He taught us to love one another. His law is love and His Gospel is peace. Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother, and in His name, all oppression shall cease…”

So there’s my list. It doesn’t begin to cover all the great Christmas music that I love so much, but it’s a start anyway and gives you a good idea of where my musical tastes lie. Of course, at no time of year am I more likely to embrace new artists than at Christmas; the familiarity of the songs opens a door for me. So I hope this list continues to expand…

"Truly Blessed and Duly Grateful" - Bethesdalily's Gratitude Write-Off

I'm breaking in my brand-new laptop with a list of things I'm thankful for, as encouraged by Bethesdalily, whose write-off has caused bursts of blessings to blossom throughout Epinions like bright November flowers. It seems like a sure way to get this new piece of equipment off to a good start. I hope it lasts me as long as the first one, which I received for my 25th birthday, did. While I hated to retire that one, I can't help being grateful for the timing, as it finally went kaput just before Black Friday, allowing me to get the replacement at the most affordable time of the year. I'm grateful, too, that I had enough in the bank to cover it. But then, I have a lot to be grateful for, as I do every year. Big fan of quotes that I am, I thought it might be fun to compile a few gratitude quotes and use them as a jumping-off point for this very worthwhile exercise. So here we go...

“A thankful heart is a happy heart. I'm glad for what I have; that's an easy way to start.” Isn't it, though? This is a line from the VeggieTales video Madame Blueberry, the main song of which is a litany of gratitude concluding with, “That's why I say thanks every day.” I don't always remember to do that, but I should. I have friends who make it a point to regularly compile lists of things for which they're thankful, and it always brightens my day to read them and also to realize that I could list a lot of those same things. When things aren't going so well, give it a whirl, and I bet it will make you feel better. No matter how bad things get, there's always something to be grateful for.

“I guess I was raised never to question my blessings.” This is a line from Rose, the sage woman who is one of my favorite characters on LOST. I wish the show had used her more often; an extra dose of her serenity could have gone a long way in all that frenzy. Rose is all about acceptance. When life throws bad things her way, she bears it gracefully. And when something good comes along, she views it as a gift. Everything is a blessing or, at worst, a trial to be weathered with the help of those things and people that are blessings. It's a good way to look at life. And let me just take this opportunity to say that no 2010 gratitude reflection from me would be complete without mentioning LOST, a show that has provided me with so much intellectual and spiritual stimulation, that has deepened several friendships, that sparked the most intense creative period of my life and that gave me so many wonderful characters to fall in love with. LOST lost this fangirl money, but everything I gained far made up for the dent in my wallet.

“Thank you for this precious day, these gifts you give to me. My heart, so full of love for you, sings praise for all I see.” Isn't that a beautiful thought? It's from one of John Denver's loveliest songs, Falling Leaves, which uses this expansive gratitude as a jumping-off point for supplication on behalf of others. It's a song that discusses how wonderful the world can be but then acknowledges how many people in the world are disenfranchised. It makes me think of those St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials: “Give thanks, and give...” If you truly have a grateful spirit, a natural outgrowth of that is to want to extend your blessings to those who could use a hand.

“Pick your diamond, pick your pearl, 'cause there is beauty in the world.” I just came upon this Macy Gray song within the last couple of months, as it's one that's in the regular rotation on the mall radio. Every time it comes on the air, I can't help grinning from ear to ear. It's just so life-affirming. I hear a lot about how much awful stuff is going on in the world today, and it just becomes very exhausting and dispiriting. This is a song that exuberantly encourages us to instead focus on the all that is right with the world. Each of us sees beauty in different things, but I think that everyone who takes the time to really look around can find something of beauty capable of brightening up the grayest day.

“For making me welcome, thank you.” This is the last line in the chorus of The Tinker, a gorgeous song by John Reynolds of the Irish Rovers. The speaker wanders from place to place, seeking shelter with strangers, and he always manages to find it. The kindness of others sustains him. It sustains all of us. We may not spend our lives as vagabonds, but how many times has your day been improved by a kind word or gesture from someone you randomly encounter? It happens to me all the time, and I hope that I've been on the other end of it, too. As a cashier at the mall, I try my best to treat every person I encounter with respect and friendliness. Sometimes folks just need someone to vent to, and I'm glad to be that person too. Any little thing I can do to make somebody's day a bit better, I try to do it; I know what a difference it makes when I'm on the receiving end, as I often am. You don't have to take someone into your home to be hospitable; just take them into your heart for a minute or two, and it can really have an impact.

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other.” This quote, from the first Harry Potter book, just makes me smile, and it's a great one for expressing the pleasure I've found in kindred spirits. When I was growing up, I often felt like an oddball. Epinions was one of the first sites I found after I really began immersing myself in the Internet, and I discovered that there are actually a lot of people out there who love the same things I do. This quote refers to a particularly powerful bonding experience, but I find that equally powerful is compatibility. As C. S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'” I'm grateful to Epinions for introducing me to friends with whom I share something important, whether that's a beloved book, a favorite style of music, an engrossing TV show, an entertaining movie... You get the idea. I'm glad Epinions has given me a platform to write about these things and has introduced me to wonderful friends who understand just where I'm coming from.

“I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough, and Papa, I don't think I've said 'I love you' near enough.” The late great Dan Fogelberg honored his father with Leader of the Band, one of my favorite songs ever and an exercise in gratitude if I ever heard one. Like him, I'm lucky enough to have wonderful parents, and I'm sure I don't tell them that often enough. As Abraham Lincoln said, “Everything I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” I can't imagine better parents than the ones I have. I owe them everything.

“Thank you for being a friend.” The Golden Girls has one of the best theme songs ever, and I'm happy to repeat it here. I have some pretty fantastic friends. Some have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember; some came along much later. Some of them I've never even met. If you got all of them together in one room, you'd have an eclectic mix indeed, but all of them have contributed greatly to my happiness. I'm grateful for Facebook, too, for helping me to keep in contact with many of them.

“I've got a hand holding my hand. It's not a hand you can see...” This is part of John Bucchino's Grateful, recorded by Art Garfunkel for his Across America concert in the 1990s. It's a beautiful song for Thanksgiving and the whole year, and I especially love this verse. It reminds me of several things. Footprints in the Sand. God's constant presence. Thestrals. J. K. Rowling's marvelous invention of creatures who perform an important service and can only be seen by those who have witnessed death. Harry initially sees them as grotesque, but they eventually serve as a reassurance that, as Dumbledore once told him, those who we've loved and lost never truly leave us. And Pushing Daisies. Ned and Charlotte love each other but can never touch. One of the many ways they come up with to cope is to hold their own hands at the same time, pretending they are holding each other's. A very sweet image for the ways that people separated by physical distance can stay connected.

“You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you, but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” My all-time favorite quote, it reminds me that I should be open to amazing things happening and willing to help them come about, but I should approach them with an attitude of humility. I should be grateful for being a part of them instead of just figuring they happened because I myself did something remarkable to bring them about. I hope I'm a fine person, but I'll never forget that I am quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all. And, as Bilbo acknowledged, “Thank goodness.”

Art Garfunkel and Alan Dale Enhance Flight of the Conchords' Final Season

Back in 2007, my brother introduced me to Flight of the Conchords, an HBO comedy about a pair of awkward New Zealanders who come to New York City in hopes of making it big as a folk duo. Jemaine Clement, a big lug with a deep voice and thick glasses who starred in a string of memorable Outback Steakhouse commercials, and Bret McKenzie, whose delicate features and soft voice landed him a role as an Elf in Lord of the Rings, play fictionalized versions of themselves in this hilarious, albeit sadly short-lived, show.

This January, I bought the second and final season of Flight of the Conchords, which, at ten episodes, is even shorter than the first. I’d previously seen one of the episodes online, but since we don’t get HBO, I counted on catching the rest on DVD. It was a worthwhile investment.

The beginning of the second season finds Jemaine and Bret attempting to manage themselves after their hapless manager, Murray Hewitt (Rhys Darby), diverts most of his attention to his new act, the Crazy Dogs. They soon discover just how much they don’t know about the music business, and the episode ends with the three gaining a renewed appreciation for each other. Darby remains impeccable as the hopelessly naive and ineffectual Murray, who in many ways can be considered a third member of the group.

Season one is stuffed with goofy, catchy tunes, rendering season two a bit sparse by comparison. While Bret and Jemaine, already a band before the show began, had plenty of material to draw from initially, they had used most of it by the end of the first season, forcing them to produce a lot of new material, most of which doesn’t make quite as much of an impression as the earlier songs.

Probably my favorite ditty of the season is Friends, from Murray Takes It to the Next Level, in which Murray decides it’s time to hang out with the guys as a buddy. This mellow, nearly a cappella ode to friendship is upbeat and harmonious, in the style of a barbershop quartet. Along with a great sound, it includes several clever descriptions of what constitutes a friend, and I like it enough to forgive the one crude line.

Unfortunately, low-brow humor isn’t that hard to find in season two. In season one, they mostly keep things fairly innocent, or at least take things no further than awkward innuendo. But in season two, it’s harder to forget this aired on cable rather than on one of the big networks.

On the other hand, Bret and Jemaine remain riotously inept, so their attempts to be seductive generally fail spectacularly, particularly in A New Cup. While this is probably the most risque episode of the season, it’s also one of the best, thanks to an absurd premise that confirms just how unsuccessful these two really are, a zany side story about Murray’s decision to invest the band’s meager funds with a Nigerian businessman who contacted him over e-mail and a tragi-comic conclusion that serves as a metaphor for their lives.

The one episode that I saw ahead of time was The Prime Minister, which I’d highly anticipated because I knew it featured Art Garfunkel. While his actual appearance is very brief, it’s quite amusing, especially considering the events leading up to it - events that involve Bret and Jemaine getting a gig as a Simon and Garfunkel tribute band and Jemaine hooking up with a girl who insists that he continue to dress as Art Garfunkel whenever she is in his company. It includes perhaps my favorite line of the season, to Murray: “So we look like some Simon and Garfunkel look-alikes who don’t look like Simon and Garfunkel?”

Additionally, it introduces the magnificent character of New Zealand’s Prime Minister Brian (Brian Sergent), who is even dopier than Murray and makes one start to wonder whether all Kiwis are a bit daft. While I was disappointed that there were no Simon and Garfunkel-style songs here (just very brief manglings of Scarborough Fair and Bright Eyes), Bret’s random karaoke performance of a Korean love song has some of the funniest (subtitled) lyrics of the season.

Each episode has something to recommend it, whether it’s an appearance by LOST and Ugly Betty’s Alan Dale, adding to his haughty boss repertoire as the Australian consulate leader who bullies Murray, or a disastrous attempt by Jemaine to help Bret prove himself chivalrous to a love interest. Kristen Schaal continues to be uncomfortably overzealous as Mel, the duo’s lone fan, as evidenced in the episode in which she presents the guys with disturbing portraits of themselves. The season - and series - ends in a way that feels very fitting for this saga of these chumps who will never let life get them down, despite a steady stream of failures.

While I’m sad to see the show go, I’m happy to know that Flight of the Conchords lives on, and I hope to catch them on tour one of these days. Until then, I’ll be content to giggle my way through the 22 episodes of their wonderfully quirky comedy.

With Come Darkness, Come Light, Mary Chapin Carpenter Offers Twelve Unusual Christmas Songs

I don’t know that I had ever listened to Mary Chapin Carpenter before I ran across Come Darkness, Come Light, the Christmas album she released in 2008. But thanks to Art Garfunkel, who covers her song Dreamland on Songs from a Parent to a Child and sings her praises as a songwriter, I knew who she was, and his endorsement was more than enough motivation for me to check out her album. I’m glad I did.

Once In Royal David's City - Carpenter sings this traditional carol, while John Jennings contributes electric guitar, percussion and, most strikingly, accordion. “For that child so dear and gentle / Is our Lord in heaven above / And he leads his children on / To the place where he is gone.”

Hot Buttered Rum - This soft, reflective song is not one I’d heard before. Jon Carroll’s piano and Jennings’ guitar give this romantic ode a slightly country flavor. A sweet song that gives me an odd hankerin’ for butterbeer... “In the dead of winter when the cold feelings come / You’re my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum.”

Still, Still, Still - Carpenter harmonizes with herself a bit on this gentle lullaby that makes good use of the piano and acoustic guitar. I’m not familiar with the tune, but it’s listed as traditional, and it’s easy to imagine it being sung by a chorus of carolers. “Still, still, still, / One can hear the falling snow. / For all is hushed, / The world is sleeping, / Winter Star, its vigil keeping.”

On a Quiet Christmas Morn - Prairie Home Companion mainstays Robin and Linda Williams wrote this reflective song about the beauty of Christmas, 2000 years ago and today. The verses focus on tranquil modern images, while the choruses take us back to the Nativity. “The hardest heart is softened by the blessing that was born / When the gift of grace was offered on a quiet Christmas morn.”

Come Darkness, Come Light - Carpenter wrote this welcoming song that invites everyone from all walks of life to embrace the Child in the manger. Guitar and piano alternate in prominence as the song gradually grows louder. “Come doubting, come sure / Come fearful to this door / Come see what love is for / Alleluia.”

Christmas Time In the City - Carpenter and Jennings share writing credits on this piano-driven song reminiscent of Pretty Paper. A tender narrative that acknowledges both the beauty of the season and the many disenfranchised people for whom the holiday is more of a struggle, this song nonetheless has a much more optimistic tone to it than that classic. “And it’s Christmas time in the city / When the air is filled with cheer / And the storefronts looks this pretty only once a year...”

Candlelight Carol - Another gentle lullaby, this one by John Rutter, the verses pose a series of hypothetical questions, while the choruses paint a lovely picture of the first Christmas. I first heard this one on Neil Diamond’s second Christmas album; I’m not sure which version I prefer, but both are very nice and soothing. “How do you capture the wind on the water? / How do you count all the stars in the sky? / How can you measure the love of a mother / Or how can you write down a baby’s first cry?”

Longest Night of the Year - Carpenter wrote this song about the winter solstice and the darkness that accompanies it. Acoustic and electric guitar join together for a nice instrumental duet midway through, while Jennings adds harmonies to her vocals on this song speaking of hope in difficult times. “So keep me safe, hold me tight / Let the candle burn all night / Tomorrow welcome back the light / After the longest night of the year.”

Thanksgiving Song - This piano-driven Carpenter song is a soft blessing for Thanksgiving or anytime people are gathered together. Thanksgiving is a rather neglected holiday song-wise, so it’s nice to see a specific nod to it here. “Father, mother, daughter, son / Neighbor, friend and friendless / All together, every one / Let grateful days be endless.”

Bells Are Ringing - Carpenter and Jennings co-wrote this song that catalogs a list of absent comforts, assuring the bereft that there is still hope to be found in seeming emptiness. A heartening song with a faint ripple of jingle bells to accentuate the message. “Wherever you’re walking tonight / Whoever you’re waiting for / Somehow by a stable’s faint light / Peace in your heart is restored.”

Christmas Carol - This final Carpenter original on the album deals with Christmastime malaise and the desire to recapture the unadulterated joy of a childhood Christmas. A really lovely and fairly lengthy song dealing with many of the disappointments of the season while focusing on some specific cherished memories - particularly involving snow and Beatles records - and a hope for peace on Earth. Probably my favorite track. “And maybe next year we won’t go insane / When they rush to hang the bows and candy canes / Because peace will shine in me and you / From Bethlehem to Timbuktu / Even if the forecast is for rain.”

Children, Go Where I Send Thee - A very mellow take on this cumulative folk song. I prefer the much more exuberant Peter Paul and Mary version, but if you’re in a quieter mood, this one is nice too. Besides the tone of the song, the major difference here is that there are twelve verses instead of ten, making it more comparable to The 12 Days of Christmas and hence a very appropriate way to close an album subtitled Twelve Songs of Christmas. “Children, go where I send thee. / How shall I send thee? / I’m gonna send thee one by one / One for the little bitty baby / Was born, born / Born in Bethlehem.”

This is a beautiful album with an overall tone of reverence, as most of the songs are at least partly religious in nature. There’s also an undercurrent of sadness here, with negative elements a part of several of the songs, but optimism always wins out. Carpenter has a deep, mellow voice that fits well with her folksy songs, and when Christmas has come and gone, I’d be interested in listening to what else she has to offer. In the meantime, I heartily recommend Come Darkness, Come Light, especially if you‘re looking for a change from all of those well-worn Christmas classics.

Experience Simon and Garfunkel Unplugged in Live From New York City 1967

Back in 2002, Simon and Garfunkel released a live album from a concert that they performed at Philharmonic Hall in January of 1967. I'd never seen Simon and Garfunkel in concert, and the chances of them reuniting for a tour seemed increasingly remote, so I was excited to get my hands on this official, pristinely preserved recording. Little did I know then that I'd get to see them the following year. I eagerly snatched up my copy, admiring the shiny packaging and lyrical liner notes by Anthony DeCurtis. I confess that in my years as an avid Simon and Garfunkel fan, I've tracked down some unofficial recordings, so I wasn't entirely new to the experience of the duo performing live in the '60s. But the recording quality here is much more consistent, and besides, it's on the up and up.

Knowing of those recordings makes me just a little wistful that they had recorded something during this particular concert that wasn't from their albums. But there's no changing now what they did then, so that complaint would be more pertinent for the 1969 album, which draws from several concerts. Among the several rare gems I unearthed, my favorite is The Lightning Express, an old folk tune once recorded by the Everly Brothers, sung by Simon and Garfunkel in Paris in 1970. Live From New York City 1967 includes no such surprises. Nonetheless, it's exciting to hear Paul and Art singing together in such intimate harmony, with nothing to come between their voices except Paul's guitar. Additionally, about half of the tracks include some sort of introduction from either Paul or Art; they divide the speaking duties pretty evenly, and though there are few revelations here for the die-hard fan, it's great to hear them offer these nuggets themselves.

Following the opening number, He Was My Brother (an rather surprising choice for the first song but a reflection, I suppose, of the prevalence of the Civil Rights movement), Art, in a blissed-out tone, breathes, "Wow! Carnegie Hall!" before launching into Leaves That Are Green. Paul's the one who introduces Sparrow, earning a laugh as he does so; a couple tracks later, he describes You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies as "almost finished". Paul takes the lead again on A Most Peculiar Man, explaining its genesis in a four-line article in a newspaper in England that struck him as "a very bad way to go out".

Art describes The Dangling Conversation as the song that took the longest to write and record and also claims it as their favorite at that particular time, though the highly intellectual number was never especially popular. While that song references Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost, Richard Cory is practically lifted right from the Edward Arlington Robinson poem Art says was "written many years ago and studied by myself in junior high school." It was high school for me, but I can relate!

Before For Emily, Paul laughingly tells an unruly audience to tone it down, which is odd since the same thing happens just before For Emily on the 1969 album. By the end of the set, he seems to be in a thoroughly goofy mood, doing a Beatles impersonation before launching into Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. and concluding the song - and concert - with a brief guitar homage to Yankee Doodle. But the best spoken bit on the album has to be Art's recollection of the photo shoot for the Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. album cover. This live track was included in the Old Friends boxed set, so it won't be new to everyone, but I never get tired of hearing Art, by way of introducing Poem on an Underground Wall, tactfully mentioning "the old familiar suggestion" that none of them had noticed plastered all over the wall where against which they had been standing.

The songs without banter are, of course, lovely as well. I was particularly surprised by Benedictus, which doesn't seem like it would be a concert selection, but they perform it gorgeously. Other tracks include Homeward Bound, Feelin' Groovy, A Hazy Shade of Winter, Blessed, Anji, I Am a Rock, The Sound of Silence and A Church Is Burning. If you're a fan of Simon and Garfunkel, particularly unplugged, then Live From New York City 1967 is for you.

Hear History in the Making With Simon and Garfunkel's Live 1969

Back in July, I made two startling musical discoveries. One was that Celtic Thunder had just released a new album. The other was that Simon and Garfunkel had released a "new" album as well - several months earlier. I was surprised I didn't know Take Me Home had been coming up, since I'd checked several times to see if there was anything new in the works from my favorite newly-found band. But I was shocked I hadn't heard a thing about Simon and Garfunkel's live album, since I'm always very up on their news and have several friends who are as well. I snatched the albums up together, a decision made all the easier by the fact that Amazon was selling them both for half-price. Though Simon and Garfunkel fans won't find much here that's genuinely new, it's still a nice album to have.

Several years ago, Simon and Garfunkel released the album Live in 1967, an acoustic set drawn from a single concert right in the middle of their principal period of musical partnership. I love the intimacy of that concert, the quietude of just the two voices and the guitar and the little bits of banter that Paul and mostly Art provided. Live 1969 is a little different. A few of the songs are acoustic, but the bulk of them are performed with a band whose members include Joe Osborn on bass, Hal Blaine on drums, Fred Carter, Jr. on keyboards and Larry Knechtel on keyboards.

The tracks are drawn not from a single concert but from several. Something of the innocence of that earlier recording seems to be missing, and occasionally Art's quips seem to hint at the strain between him and Paul. Mostly, though, this is just a chance to hear the duo live in their prime, making it easy to imagine what it must have been like to be part of one of those early audiences. As someone who saw them live in 2003, I can attest that Simon and Garfunkel in concert is a pretty amazing experience.

For the die-hard fan, there's nothing too new here songwise. Of 17 tracks, only one is a song not drawn from their studio albums. That's the exquisite That Silver-Haired Daddy of Mine, a Gene Autry song recorded by the Everly Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel's most profound early musical influences. But even that isn't new if you got your hands on Old Friends, the three-disc boxed set released in the 1990s. The novelty, then, lies mostly in these particular performances and hearing the dynamic between the men and their audience, with the attractive packaging and heartfelt introduction by Bud Scoppa a plus.

Song for the Asking is the first really interesting track, as it includes an introduction from Art as well as some lovely harmonizing, which is absent on the Paul-centric studio cut. Art delivers a gorgeous performance of For Emily after shushing a mildly unruly audience. Scarborough Fair is performed without Canticle (despite the song list label to the contrary), as it's always seems to be in concert; I suppose they could only pull off all those rich layers of harmony in the studio. Still, this more basic version is lovely.

Track seven, Mrs. Robinson, is the first with the band, and Art introduces them accordingly, while getting testy with an audience member who complains the keyboards are too quiet and accidentally starting to introduce the wrong song. Why Don't You Write Me is fun because, unlike most of the other studio songs, it's not one they perform in concert these days. So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright includes a nice little introduction in which Art explains that he'd studied architecture at Columbia and had suggested Paul write a song about Frank Lloyd Wright. (Of course, the song was really more about Art, but I read an interview with him years later in which he claimed not to realize that at the time.)

Of all the tracks, perhaps the most fascinating is Bridge Over Troubled Water, simply because there's a sense that you're listening to history unfold. On the other tracks, either Art, who pretty much does all the talking, announces the song, or Paul plays the opening chord, and the audience erupts into applause as they realize what they're about to hear. But on Bridge, Larry starts playing that iconic piano opening, and Art notes that this is a new song, and there's dead silence. It seems nobody in this November 28 audience has heard it before; I presume the silence denotes not lack of enthusiasm so much as a desire not to drown out any of this brand-new listening experience with applause. But silence it is, up until that final glory note, when the audience erupts into one of the most exuberant ovations I've ever heard. Just getting the experience second-hand is pretty powerful.

Other tracks include Homeward Bound, At the Zoo, Feelin' Groovy, The Boxer, The Sound of Silence, I Am a Rock, Old Friends / Bookends, Leaves That Are Green and Kathy's Song. One thing this concert drove home to me is that Simon and Garfunkel aren't very interactive in concert; there's never an invitation to sing along, and the chatter is minimal, though you do get more of that on the 1967 album. If you've never seen them live, either of these albums is the next-best thing.

Number 2100: Simon and Garfunkel's Bookends Explores the Relationship and Impact of Two Old Friends

There are many parallels between the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel. One is the fact that both groups recorded songs about companionship later in one's life. When I'm 64 is bouncy and optimistic, and it's a benchmark that Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr have now passed (though ironically, 64 was a pretty crummy year for Sir Paul relationship-wise). Old Friends, by contrast, is wistful and melancholy; its central characters seem about 30 years older than those in When I'm 64 instead of just 6. But while they muse about "how terribly strange" it is to be 70, there is gentle solace to be found in each other's company. In Simon & Garfunkel's Bookends, Pete Fornatale explores the lifelong friendship of the two singers, particularly through the lens of what he considers to be their greatest album.

Simon and Garfunkel are my all-time favorite band, so when I found out about this book, I was anxious to read it, and I figure a volume that so eloquently ruminates on the ins and outs of two of my musical heroes was a good choice for my 2100th review. I've read many articles about the band as well as the biography by Victoria Kingston, which delves more into their personal lives and post-Simon and Garfunkel careers than this one does. Fornatale is, as the cover so humbly states, a "legendary New York disk jockey". Not so legendary that I ever heard of him before picking up this book, but I'll give him a pass because his work is excellent, and he brings to it both the affection of a friend and fan and the insight of a music expert. His writing style is literary but accessible, and I breezed right through the 120-plus pages of the attractive little hardcover, which is small enough to fit in my purse.

Along with the introduction and afterward, there are eight chapters. The first, "Daddy, What's a Concept Album?", is the least Simon and Garfunkel-centric of the chapters, as it focuses mostly on the history of that form in its various incarnations. Among early concept albums that might not have been specifically noted as such, he mentions Woody Guthrie's Dust Bowl Ballads and several albums by Frank Sinatra, while pointing out that just about every Christmas album ever recorded is essentially a concept album. It isn't until the end of the chapter that he discusses Bookends, claiming it "elevated the grammar and vocabulary of popular music."

In the next chapter, The Early Years, Fornatale chronicles the men's early lives and musical influences. Throughout the book he includes many reflections by the singers themselves, and these are quite revealing. For instance, though I've heard them talk about the music they listened to as kids, I never knew that the songs that turned them on to rock and roll were Earth Angel by the Penguins (for Art) and "Gee" by the Crows (for Paul). Other territory is more familiar: their roles in a sixth-grade Alice in Wonderland play, their one-hit wonder days as Tom and Jerry, their first major break-up (evidently because Art was hurt that Paul made a solo record). Fornatale mentions a lot of the tracks I discovered on the album Before the Fame, which is a charming piece of history for the serious enthusiast but certainly not up to the quality of the music they began to produce together several years later.

In the third, fourth, fifth and sixth chapters (Folk, Folk Rock, 1967 and The Graduate) Fornatale provides details on the making of Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M., Sounds of Silence, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme and the soundtrack of The Graduate, often offering his analysis of the songs in a manner that seems informed rather than merely his subjective musings. Since most of my favorite music stems from the sixties or early seventies, I appreciated the fact that Fornatale mentions many other artists as his way of placing Simon and Garfunkel more fully into a cultural context. The Beatles, the Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, the Weavers and Peter Paul and Mary are just a few of the musicians who pop up, and of course, he has plenty to say about Paul and Art's primary influences, the Everly Brothers.

Fornatale sets the stage for the seventh chapter, the in-depth discussion of Bookends around which the whole book is based, by pointing out the maelstrom of climactic events that occurred in 1968, most notably the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. just a day after the album was released. Fornatale also bemoans the fact that on CDs, there is no side one and side two, which lessens the impact of this particular album since only the first side is part of the "concept". He also complains that the covers are so much smaller, making the stark black and white image of the duo less striking.

Fornatale gives every track on the album special consideration while exploring overarching themes such as youth, isolation, old age and, of course, friendship. He talks about how the songs are both incredibly personal and tap into universal emotions and experiences. Sprinkled throughout the chapter are anecdotes from various people associated with the project in one way or another. One story I found especially interesting was a reflection by Mike Nichols on how he wound up with the ending shot of The Graduate, whose feeling of jubilant journeying morphs into blank confusion, a process Fornatale compares to the progress of the song America. The discussion of side two yielded the revelation that At the Zoo was a controversial song when it came out, owing to references to turned-on hamsters and drunken zookeepers. A shame, since that's one of the few genuinely cheerful songs Simon and Garfunkel ever recorded! Despite the general melancholy of Bookends, it was the centerpiece of what may be considered Simon and Garfunkel's biggest year; at one point in 1968, the top three albums on the charts were all by Simon and Garfunkel.

Only one chapter, cleverly titled Post-Graduate, has much to say about Paul and Art's lives for the past 40 years, and even then it's almost exclusively in the context of their interaction with one another. It's in this chapter that Fornatale makes the pointed observation that Bridge Over Troubled Water, generally considered Simon and Garfunkel's best album, is "more a documentation of a partnership being shredded rather than pulled together." But he doesn't conclude with that severing of a long-held friendship. Instead, he takes readers to Paul's reflection on the 1981 reunion concert in which he acknowledges that the sight of Simon and Garfunkel reuniting was powerfully symbolic for a lot of people, an indication that "wounds can be healed, things can go back to the way they were. Life has a happy ending." In light of that, the vision of Paul and Art sitting next to each other on a park bench three years from now, quietly enjoying one another's company, seems all the more probable. For this Simon and Garfunkel fan, that's a scene worth hoping for, and this is a book well worth reading.

Number 1200: Carly Simon Serves Up Tender, Folksy Goodness With Into White

It's been a great year for new albums. Last May, I snatched up Paul Simon's Surprise; in the fall, it was Clay Aiken's A Thousand Different Ways and Weird Al's Straight Outta Lynwood, and January brought Art Garfunkel's Some Enchanted Evening. Then along came my birthday, and with it a gem I'd overlooked: Carly Simon's Into White. I've always enjoyed her music but never included her in my list of indispensable artists. Having had an opportunity to fall in love with this gentle, folksy album - the most tender I've encountered since Garfunkel's Songs From a Parent to a Child - I may just have to amend that...

Into White - This Cat Stevens title song is a sleepy anthem to simple beauty. Simon's husky vocals are complemented by the harmonization of Jimmy Parr and rich instrumentals that occasional seem to betray a Celtic influence.

Oh! Susanna - One of those songs just about everybody in America probably knows. The mystical-sounding flute and persistent kalimba add a unique flavor to a song whose familiarity and simplicity could make for a dull track. Instead, it's ideal for both singing along or just sitting back and listening appreciatively.

Blackbird - A smooth, heartfelt rendition of a Lennon and McCartney classic. The guitar provides a nice undertone, and the chorus of "ooooh"s works well as a bridge, but it's Simon's vocals that really carry this empowering melody.

You Can Close Your Eyes - A gorgeous piano-driven track, penned by James Taylor, Simon's ex-husband. Their children Ben and Sally harmonize with her on this one, and they sound gorgeous together. I'm struck by how much Ben sounds like his father; I'm powerfully reminded of James' rendition of this song, which closed out his concert in Erie last year. It's a very intimate moment on the album.

Quiet Evening - A new composition for this album, it's a contemplative, slightly sultry song. It doesn't grab me as much as some of others, but it's a nice ode to the need for a little personal time now and then, and Simon says in her liner notes that it's her favorite song on the album to sing.

Manha de Carnaval - A Brazilian guitar-driven track in which the only lyrics are "la la la". Despite the lack of words, it's emotionally affecting, with her deft vocals mostly evoking wistfulness.

Jamaica Farewell - One of my favorite tracks on the album, it's a breezy number whose tone is slightly regretful but mostly one of golden nostalgia. Simon's voice is especially quiet here, though never to the point that it is overpowered by the guitar and other instruments, and she and Ben harmonize nicely as a segue into the next song.

You Are My Sunshine - Another of those camp song favorites. This version is much slower than I'm used to, giving it a soulful vibe. The piano, which reminds me a bit of Lean on Me, is what really sets this apart for me, along with the barely audible guitar on the outro, which is reminiscent of waves lapping upon a shore.

I Gave My Love a Cherry - Another very slow arrangement of a famous folk song. I've never been that crazy about this one, but Simon does a nice job with it, and I like the strings that offset the vocals.

Devoted to You / All I Have to Do is Dream - I wasn't familiar with the first song, which makes up the main part of the medley, but it's a very simple, lovely song, which Simon delivers with great gentleness. When the second song, which I know quite well, kicks in atop the remnants of the first, it's a beautiful meshing of voices, with Ben once again complementing his mother beautifully.

Scarborough Fair - Simon and Garfunkel! Yay!! This gorgeous Celtic arrangement of the song they made famous doesn't include their counter-melody. Rather, it has a lovely selection of woodwinds and a couple of verses Simon (Carly, that is) added to the mix. In her liner notes, she credits not only my favorite duo but also the often overlooked Martin Carthy, who showed Paul the song in the first place. Nice gesture, and very nice arrangement of a song I love.

Over the Rainbow - Fairly straightforward and piano-driven, and I think I like it better than the version in The Wizard of Oz. Then again, I never was a big fan of Judy Garland...

Love of My Life - This is the only Simon original of the album, a quiet ode to love with guitar backing. The lyrics are cute, as she lists all sorts of rather random, silly things that she loves, from avocados to Lucy, but none of them as much as the addressee of the song.

I'll Just Remember You - Written by David Saw, who also wrote Quiet Evening, and Ben Taylor, it's a charming, simple song that closes out the album on a note of appreciation. It's a love song, but it could also work as a message of thanks to her fans, helping keep her afloat through the troubles that come with being a famous singer-songwriter. At any rate, it's a pleasant end to the album.

A nice bonus with Into White is the fact that Simon comments on each of the tracks in the liner notes, which isn't something I see a lot. It's fascinating to get a little idea of what she was thinking as she chose and recorded these songs, and her comments are insightful and often very funny. The whole album has a humble feeling to it, as she's setting out to do justice to music she admires, shining the spotlight on others as much as herself. It's a far cry from You're So Vain, but Into White is most definitely an album worth embracing.

Some Enchanted Evening - Art Garfunkel

When I was in middle school, my dad introduced me to a remarkable invention known as the Internet. I was enthralled, but though we had a computer, I never got online much in the next few years unless I had a research paper that needed a few more sources. Then, just at the tail end of high school, I got my own e-mail address and started wading into the unfamiliar waters of the Internet. Half a year later, I discovered Epinions, which probably more than anything else is what brought my online activity to something far beyond e-mailing relatives and close friends. But if there is one other website to which I can attribute my current level of addiction, it's www.artgarfunkel.com.

I became a frequenter of the site in spring of 2000 when the general love of Simon and Garfunkel that I'd harbored for about ten years developed into an unwieldy obsession with the second half of that duo. Art's website provided me with pages upon pages of interviews and articles, and in the Guest Book I found that I was not alone, even in my hip generation, in my admiration for the man. When I had the fortune of meeting him later that year, it cemented him as my favorite living singer and his site as an indispensable haven. It was through this site that I formed my first online friendship; many more followed when the webmaster added a message board.

Beyond that, fellow fans came out of the woodwork in every corner of the Internet I visited. I once felt almost entirely isolated in my fandom, with only my immediate family and a few stray friends sharing my appreciation while the vast majority looked at me funny if I brought up my favorite duo, let alone Art by himself. But venturing online has opened up a world of kindred spirits, folks every bit as obsessed as I am with this tender tenor, and so when I realized my thousandth posting here on Epinions was looming, I could think of no better way in which to celebrate it than by reviewing Art Garfunkel's new album, Some Enchanted Evening.

It's a shame that the general public does not find Art nearly as enchanting as I do, as evidenced by the fact that two stores I visited today didn't even get the album, and when I did find it at Best Buy, the employee informed me that it was the only copy they'd received. Art Garfunkel simply does not seem to be in high demand; in fact, more people than I'd like to recall have mused that they thought he was dead, or at least that he'd stopped making music decades ago. Gah! The poor guy has been just as busy as his more highly regarded former singing partner, but barely anyone pays any attention. His last album was entitled Everything Waits to Be Noticed; he's still waiting.

But among his core group of loyal fans, this latest album comes highly anticipated, with tantalizing hints coming along from time to time until we finally were afforded a glimpse of its contents. When I saw that the theme was to be songs Art grew up with, I hoped fervently for Unchained Melody, a recording I've longed for since I heard him sing a few seconds of it on Across America. Alas, when the track listing arrived, that song was absent, but I still happily counted down the days with my fellow fans, secure in my conviction that whatever was on the album, it would be a triumph. Today, I finally got my confirmation.

1. I Remember You (Victor Schertzinger / Johnny Mercer) - Funny, I don't remember this song... Actually, while I am an oldies buff, these tunes are all a bit before my time; those that are familiar are from musicals. A search on the song reveals that this was unveiled in a 1942 film entitled The Fleet's In, but I've never heard of that, and I'm only familiar with a couple of other songs written by Mercer. At any rate, it's a good start to the album, and Art sounds right at home in this genre, his voice huskier than in years past but no less affecting. The fact that we can hear the way the years have added layers to his voice actually increases the poignancy of an album that is largely nostalgic, stepping into the songs of his youth from the other end of the spectrum.

I get the sense that this is a young love, maybe one that continues throughout a lifetime and maybe just a fleeting romance, but the youthful earnestness coupled with a wistful anticipation of the distant future makes it an ideal bookend for If I Loved You. Musically notable are the harmonica and saxophone solos (by Chris Smith and Doug Webb) and Art's harmonization with himself toward the end of the song. "When my life is through / And the angels ask me to recall / The thrill of them all / Then I shall tell them I remember you."

2. Someone To Watch Over Me (George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin) - I'm familiar with this song not because of its original context - a musical I'd never heard of called Oh, Kay! - but because of Mr. Holland's Opus, an outstanding film in which it played an integral role. The movie aside, it's a jazz standard that's been covered by dozens of artists, so I know I've heard it a number of times, most recently when Katharine McPhee performed it on American Idol last year. It seems I always hear this song performed by a female vocalist, so hearing Art sing the song with gender-alternated lyrics is a bit novel for me. "Although I may not be the man some / Girls think of as handsome / To her heart I carry the key" doesn't sit quite right with me; though it starts out with a self-deprecating air, the proclamation that he carries the key to her heart seems to negate the vulnerability of the rest of the song. So lyrically, I think this works better when sung by a woman, but vocally Art's right on target, with understated percussion and an undercurrent of strings backing him up.

3. Let’s Fall In Love (Harold Arlen / Ted Koehler) - This sprightly tune was the first of the songs from the new album available for fans to listen to on Art's MySpace page, as well as his official site. I resisted the urge, wanting to hear the song for the first time along with the rest of the album. When I came to it, I was surprised, as I was when I first heard What a Wonderful World on Watermark, because I had been expecting another song of the same title. I hadn't looked closely enough at the writing credits to notice that this was not the famous Cole Porter ditty, and I was rather disappointed because I find those lyrics quite droll, but this 1933 song has its own charms. Accentuating by a bit of smooth sax (provided by EWTBN's Maia Sharp) and a lot of rhythmic finger-snapping, it speaks of adolescent exuberance and puts me in mind of the doo-woppish So Much in Love from Lefty. "Let's fall in love. / Why shouldn't we fall in love? / Now is the time for it / While we are young. / Let's fall in love."

4. I’m Glad There Is You (Paul Madeira / Jimmy Dorsey) - There's a just-shy-of-minor tone to this that is highly reminiscent of Breakaway's 99 Miles From LA. Bandleader Dorsey's presence is felt in the form of the prominent trumpet strains. The instrumentals are a little heavier here than on most tracks, giving it a rather over-the-top feel that matches the lyrics, with Art's voice serving as the treasure in the midst of many distractions. "In this world of overrated pleasures / and underrated treasures / I'm glad there is you."

5. Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars (Corcovado) (Antonio Carlos Jobim / Gene Lees) - This moody Brazilian composition boasts a tempo that somewhat recalls Bridge Over Troubled Water's So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright. The flute and percussion carry this song along while Art puts just the right nuances into his richly textured vocals. "This is where I want to be, / Here with you so close to me / Until the final flicker of life's ember."

6. Easy Living (Leo Robin / Ralph Rainger) - Webb's smooth clarinet enhances this easy-going ode about contentedness in love. There's a slightly more mature tone to this than Let's Fall in Love but it's just as enthusiastic; it seems this could be the same guy expressing his adoration to his ladylove ten or twenty years down the line. I'll never regret the years I'm giving. / They're easy to give when you're in love. / I'm happy to do whatever I do for you."

7. I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face (Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe) - This also speaks of a more mature love, of affection unexpectedly born of familiarity. It's been long enough since I've seen My Fair Lady that I can't really comment on the deviations from the melody, but the general tone is very different, unabashedly warm and tender rather than self-important and exasperated like good ol' Henry Higgins. (Of course, it helps that half the lyrics, the really juicily petulant and bitter - and unapologetically in-context - ones, have been excised.)

Lullaby-like with layers of wispy vocals, it reminds me of The Things We've Handed Down, arguably my favorite track on the exquisite Songs From a Parent to a Child, in which a father-to-be muses, "We've been doing fine without you, / But we could only go so far." I suppose prior familiarity with the song and fondness for My Fair Lady has something to do with it, but this is one of my favorite tracks on this album, an exultant revelation of how love sometimes creeps up on us and takes us by surprise - in the most ordinary of ways. "I was serenely independent and content before we met; / Surely I could always be that way again - / And yet / I've grown accustomed to her look; / Accustomed to her voice; / Accustomed to her face."

8. You Stepped Out Of A Dream (Gus Kahn / Nacio Herb Brown) - I love the little brushes of chimes that surface once in a while here to give the song a celestial air. I don't know a thing about the song or its writers, but it makes me think of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, and in particular the words, "Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream / or are you really as beautiful as you seem?" The saxophone kicks in again to add to the dreaminess, and Art's doo-wop background vocals create a sense of nostalgia. "You / Stepped out of a cloud, / I want to take you away / Away from the crowd, / And have you all to myself, / Alone and apart. / Out of a dream / Safe into my heart."

9. Some Enchanted Evening (Richard Rodgers / Oscar Hammerstein II) - This title song features a considerably altered melody from the South Pacific version, but it really works. There's a breezy, almost calypso feel to this one, and the vastly re-worked arrangement makes it sound like a totally new song, so that there's the certain comforting sense of familiarity with the lyrics but not a trace of staleness. I really like it because it threw me for a loop, and Art's vocals have a walking-on-air quality that demonstrates that feeling of enchantment more effectively than the original. "Some enchanted evening / You may see a stranger, / You may see a stranger / Across a crowded room / And somehow you know, / You know even then / That somewhere you'll see her / Again and again."

10. It Could Happen To You (Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen) - This was another song whose title led me to expect a different tune, in this case Frank Sinatra's Young at Heart. I don't know this song, but it's another nice exuberant young romance sort of song about falling in love in spite of one's best intentions. There's a cautionary note about this that makes me think of the wise old owl's twitterpation warnings in Bambi, but we are left with the sense that falling in love probably isn't such a grim fate after all. "Keep an eye on spring, run when church bells ring. / It could happen to you. / All I did was wonder how your arms would be / And it happened to me."

11. Life Is But A Dream (Raoul Cita / Hy Weiss) - Aside from knowing the titular phrase from Row, Row, Row Your Boat, I had no prior experience with this drowsy tune, the only one on the album to feature back-up vocals from someone other than Art himself. Richard Perry, who produced this album as well as Breakaway, provides some terrific bass that contrasts Art nicely, but the vocal that really makes me sit up and pay attention is Art's super-high final note. "Life is but a dream; / It's what you make it. / Always try to give; / Don't ever take it. / Life has it's music, / Life has it's songs of love. / This one's for you."

12. What’ll I Do (Irving Berlin) - This sedate, woebegone song is driven by electric guitar and gentle percussion. It reminds me of EWTBN's Perfect Moment, which plaintively asks, "But wasn't I supposed to let you go / Into the blue? / But still I'm holding you, / Though you're a million miles away." This is a song of loss that serves as an ideal segue into the final song, which in context speaks of a lost opportunity and, evading that, serves as a precursor to another type of loss. There's a sadness to this song, but it's gentle rather than overbearing, and we get the sense that this fellow will survive outside of this relationship, however hard it may seem now. "What'll I do / When you are far away / And I am blue? / What'll I do?"

13. If I Loved You (Richard Rodgers/Oscar Hammerstein II) - I have somewhat mixed feelings about this song because I so wanted You'll Never Walk Alone to be included in this collection. Because this turned out to be a collection of love songs, that wouldn't have made much sense, but I really would love to hear Art perform that inspirational ballad, which he also mentioned on the Across America DVD as one he often sang as a schoolboy. Still, this is a remarkable song, one of three that deeply affected me when I saw Carousel at the Erie Playhouse my freshman year of high school. I soon fell into an obsession just as profound as the Art obsession that followed four years later, so this music certainly holds a special place in my heart.

Tough-guy Billy Bigelow is trying to break down and tell golden girl Julie Jordan that he loves her, but he can't stand being in such a vulnerable position and we're not sure if he's going to take the opportunity in front of him or not. It's a climactic romantic moment, and I remember the wave of nervous, almost nauseous anticipation it evoked, the same sort I felt when reading Jane Eyre as she agonized over whether to express her feelings to her mysterious boss or Frasier whenever Niles almost told Daphne he'd adored her for years. It's a weighing of risk and regret, and unfortunately it's a song Art can relate to all too well, given his hesitancy in committing completely to Laurie Bird, his ladylove throughout much of the 70s who committed suicide while he was filming the prophetically titled Bad Timing. He is, of course, very happily married now with two children, but I get the sense that it's something that still haunts him.

From the beginning, sparse acoustic guitar and an undercurrent of strings accompany Art's tentative vocals here, while some lovely legato piano comes in about halfway through. It's my favorite song on the album, and while that's partly because I liked the song a lot to begin with, it's also because it feels very intimate and it's performed exquisitely, initially with halting phrasing that melts into transcendently wistful vocals on the chorus. "Longing to tell you, / But afraid and shy, / I'd let my golden chances / Pass me by."

The packaging of the album is nice, with a sturdy cardboard case, though the liner notes leave much to be desired; there's no commentary aside from two quotes from Art: "In this album, I confess I am under the sway of two magnificent singers, Chet Baker and Johnny Mathis" and "It wasn't Monet, it was France; / It's not what we say but the dance we're in; / Therein lies the mysterious glue / In this set of songs I sing to you." That, and three photos, two showing Art in a classy suit and one featuring a close-up of his face as he gazes serenely out from a more casual position. I would've liked more, but I guess it's up to us fans to ferret out our own insights this time around. I don't know that Some Enchanted Evening will win Art many new fans, except perhaps in the over-70 demographic, but those who've grown accustomed to his rich vocal stylings will find plenty of enchantment here.

P.S. Since buying the album, I've learned that Target carries a version with an extra track, so if there's a Target near you, I'd check there first!

Not the Simon and Garfunkel You're Used To, But a Nice Peek Into their Yesteryear

As those of you who read my reviews frequently have no doubt noticed, I am an especially ardent Simon and Garfunkel fan. You might even accuse me of being overzealous. I own just about all their legitimate recordings (with the exception of a couple greatest hits compilations) and a few that are almost certainly unauthorized. Before the Fame falls under the category of albums outside of the official Simon and Garfunkel canon. In fact, all of these songs predate that band name, going back as far as the early pseudonyminous Hey Schoolgirl days. There are, unfortunately, early recordings made by my favorite singers, both together and apart, that I have not been able to track down, but as I had never heard any of the songs here aside from their aforementioned teenage hit, this album was a treasure trove for me. A word of warning: this is not the mature, introspective Simon and Garfunkel fans are used to. These tracks are pure bubblegum, so don’t be too disappointed when you fail to find anything too thought-provoking. Then again, most of these are self-conscious attempts to produce records in the precise style of the time, songs that could be marketed to other groups. For a couple of teenagers, I'd say they did pretty well.

Dream Alone - Ah, glorious teenage Art. It’s easy to focus on his angelic voice, ringing with the purity of youth, for the first 20 seconds or so before the song lapses into broken record territory. There are exactly five unique words in this song and five (brief) unique lines of music: “Dream alone, dream alone. Dream alone, dream alone. Dream alone, dream alone. Dream alone, dream alone. Cry, oh cry, cry alone.” It makes the most monotonous early Beatles song brilliant by comparison. Sorry, Artie, but I can see where my dad was coming from when he walked in the room on this track and turned off the CD player. Still, there is that voice... running through my head all day long...

Teenage Fool - An early Paul single displaying the heavy influence of Elvis Presley. This was released under the name True Taylor, and it was a source of contention with his Garfunkel, who felt rather hurt that Paul seemed to be abandoning him and their Everly Brothers style for the hipper Elvis.

Beat Love - Another of Art’s solos, unfortunately the only other one we get here. It’s got a catchy beat and certainly has more diverse lyrics than Dream Alone. It doesn’t stick in my mind as much as the other, which is both a bad and a good thing, I guess…

I Love You (Oh Yes I Do) - Okay, to tell you the truth, I don’t own this exact album. I have a similar compilation that includes almost every song on this CD, plus a couple others. The only missing track is this one. From what I can tell the most complete collection of early tunes is the import Two Can Dream Alone, which has this song and one other as well as all those on my album, the banally titled Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel: Tom & Jerry. I’d like to get my hands on that one but the one I have was more readily available at the time so I snatched it up…

Just a Boy - Almost definitely my favorite song on the album. Paul is so sweet here, and he really does sound like just a boy. I’m not sure exactly what year this came out, but apparently he was at least 18 at the time. He sounds considerably younger, both lyrically and vocally. “Though I’m just a boy, on this you can rely: You are just the girl I will love until I die.” This is just an adorable ditty with a lullaby-like tone and earnest, softly rendered vocals. I love it.

Play Me a Sad Song - Paul has this odd thing in his voice that comes out only once in a while on the Simon and Garfunkel albums (for example, “stabbed” and “flash” in Sound of Silence). It’s a strange accentuation of the dipthong in the letter “a,” and it is strongly in evidence here, mainly in the word “sad.” The song, in which the speaker is a teen bemoaning the fact that he’s sitting at home without a date on a Saturday night, has a nice late 50s feel to it, and I think I would like it quite a bit if it weren’t for the obnoxious interjections of a cliched female chorus. This shrill background mars most of the songs on the album. I know it was typical of music of 40s and 50s; I’ve cringed my way through many Disney songs incorporating such a device. I’m afraid I’ll never learn to love it.

It Means a Lot to Them - A slower, more contemplative Paul song. Again, I think I'd like it a lot better without the corny chorus.

Flame - A pretty upbeat Paul song about the intensity of his love for his girlfriend. Some pretty corny lyrics, but a decent song overall.

Shy - This one competes with Just a Boy for my favorite song here. It’s Paul once more sounding barely more than 14, with that same sweet childlike tone to his voice. Here, he reminds me of Charlie Brown, as his lyrics describe his inability to express his feelings to the girl he adores. Finger snapping augments the track. He also does a bit of harmonizing with himself in this song, particularly towards the beginning, and that provides a welcome change from all the “chorus of little birdies” stuff that he couldn’t seem to get away from. It creeps into Shy, but it’s not enough to ruin it for me. “Each night when I look in the mirror, I practice what I’m going to say to you. I tell myself, ‘Be confident,’ but I’m scared to death the minute that I’m with you.”

The Lone Teen Ranger - A very fun song. It would almost fit on a novelty record alongside the likes of songs featured on the Dr. Demento show. A deeper-voiced Paul (whose vocal chords seem to unintentionally creak geekily from time to time a la Peter of the Brady Bunch in the song Time to Change) complains that his girlfriend is obsessed with this heroic television character to the point of paying no attention to her actual boyfriend. Campy interjections from the show’s announcer and wild west-style gunshots add to the song’s goofy flavor.

Two Teenagers - This one bothers me mainly because of the gal they're singing with. Her voice is high-pitched and grating, and theirs aren't a whole lot more aesthetically pleasing. They rather sound like they're leering. It doesn’t do it for me.

Hey Schoolgirl - This was a big enough hit that Simon and Garfunkel were actually willing to sing it in concert on occasion as a nostalgic nod, both in the 60s and on their 2003 reunion tour. They always sing just the first verse, so this was the first time I heard in its entirely the song that broke the top 100 when the boys were 15 and landed them on American Bandstand. If they could have ridden that momentum into instant success, I wonder whether they would have evolved into folk singers? If a straight path to stardom would have meant sticking with the bubblegum, I’m glad they had a few bends in the road. Then again, the Beatles evolved; I suppose Tom and Jerry would have too. Anyway, this is a catchy ditty complete with exuberant tambourine and a glorious lack of corny chorus girls. It also provides resolution that the excerpt lacks; we finally get to see the guy get the girl. “Woo babba loochie wa, you’re mine. Hey, schoolgirl in the second row, teacher’s lookin’ over so we gotta whisper way down low…”

That’s My Story - To follow their early hit, the last songs on this album are all Tom and Jerry. They sound odd here, as though they are trying to deepen their voices, but it’s a nice bouncy song that shows their talent for working together.

Don’t Say Goodbye - A guitar-heavy duet with another hefty dose of Elvis influence.

Our Song - Like a couple songs later in Simon and Garfunkel’s career, Our Song is a very upbeat song with rather downcast lyrics. The speaker recalls that the song used to be the special song he shared with his girlfriend, but that relationship has ended. Apparently he is still able to cling to the good memories, though, without focusing too much on his sadness.

All in all, it's a collection worth having, though I would try for the most complete one, which as I said is probably Two Can Dream Alone. You probably won't find any of them in a store; online is your best bet. I enjoyed this album quite a bit just for a peek into Simon and Garfunkel's boyhood. While there are only a few tracks I am particularly drawn to, and even those are generally cheapened by silly production, I would heartily recommend it for anyone as drawn to these two Forest Hills fellas as I am.

"You Gotta Be Quick With Me! I'm From Erie, PA!"

I was browsing through the cast page of a Lord of the Rings website recently and was disappointed to discover that whoever compiled the list of film credits for each actor neglected to mention Elijah Wood’s role as Huck Finn, the character with which I always identified him prior to LotR. Now he is most widely recognized for portraying one of the greatest characters in British literature, but I would have thought one of the greatest characters in American literature would have been worth mentioning as well. My disillusionment was further exacerbated when my scanning of Liv Tyler’s bio revealed another glaring omission: That Thing You Do. For some reason, this family-friendly flick about a group of guys who hit the big time with a catchy tune seems to be one of Tom Hanks’ most forgotten films. I consider it nothing less than my civic duty to protest.

And why is that? Because America’s favorite Guy Next Door decided to make a movie set in my own little neck of the woods. Heck, I took piano lessons at the very college where the fellas get their first big break in a local talent show. I attended the high school of the same name. I’ve got a personal connection to this movie, even if Hanks declined the offer to premiere it in Erie at the newly built Tinseltown, at the time one of the largest movie theaters in the country. Even if none of the filming was actually done in Erie either. Even if most of the cast members have probably never been to Erie and have no interest in ever checking it out. Doggone it, it’s about hometown pride! Besides, it’s a pretty great movie too.

When Art Garfunkel ventured to Erie back in 2000, he caused the audience momentary confusion when he brought up “the O-nee-ders,” the butchered pronunciation of the name the band in the film chooses for itself. Once we caught the allusion to That Thing You Do, Garfunkel went on to tell us how he liked the film because it reminded him of his early days in the music business, ramming around England with Paul and singing in the streets while their friend Kathy collected money. There certainly is an air of youth and innocence about this film, which takes place during the same general time when Art and Paul were starting out. But this little band wasn’t destined to have quite the same shelf life. The film chronicles the fictional foursome’s roller coaster ride from obscurity to stardom and back again.

The key player in the film is Guy Patterson (Tom Everett Scott), a likable young man who bears a remarkable resemblance to Hanks. Passionate about music but always butting heads with his father, he drowns his dreams in the drudgery of tending the family store until a stupid prank leaves the percussionist of a local band incapacitated. The band members just happen to be friends of Guy’s and happen to be playing a big talent show at Mercyhurst College that night, so they convince him to fill in. As it turns out, Guy does for the soon-to-be-named-Oneders what Ringo did for the Beatles, taking the band to a level it could not have achieved with its old drummer. His fast-paced percussion turns That Thing You Do from an insipid wannabe ballad into a catchy up-tempo number. It really is an enjoyable song, though we probably hear it one too many times in the course of the film. It was one of the first songs my brother learned to play on the guitar. It’s easy to imagine such a tune rising through the ranks of the pop charts.

The film’s focus remains largely upon Guy, but it follows the whirlwind success of the Oneders, who soon become the Wonders to avoid confusion. Its other members include Jimmy (Jonathan Schaeck), the arrogant songwriter and bandleader; his long-suffering girlfriend Faye (Tyler); the future GI bass player (Ethan Embry); and Lenny (Steve Zahn), the lovable goofball with the maturity of your average 6-year-old. We watch them soak up the thrills from winning a talent show, landing local gigs, and recording a single to hearing their song on the radio for the first time, setting off on a nationwide tour and landing a spot on a show of the Ed Sullivan variety. They are soon joined by Mr. White (Hanks), a no-nonsense manager who puts them on the road to mass exposure but knows that an implied “One-Hit” will soon precede their group moniker. He’s a savvy character, with maybe just a touch of cynicism, but he’s pretty classy nonetheless and serves as a good mentor for Guy, who’s left holding the drumsticks when the band crumbles around him.

Despite the untimely demise of the Wonders, the film is primarily a light-hearted romp through a more innocent time, a clean comedy with a touch of romance and plenty of good music to help it along its way. At its core, it’s a tribute to all those corny pop groups of the Sixties who may not have lasted long but sure had a good time getting to the top. And hey, it starts out in Erie. Who could ask for anything more?