The Muppets: "Life's a Happy Song When There's Someone By Your Side to Sing Along"

Just about every year, it seems that there is one movie that I anticipate above all others. While 2011 had many promising candidates – including my beloved Winnie the Pooh and Harry Potter facing off against each other in the middle of summer – there was one film that had me aquiver with excitement from the time I first heard rumors of its release. Of course, it helped that it had the cleverest, most persistent ad campaign of any movie I can recall, expertly spoofing multiple genres while demonstrating its ability to appeal to a broad audience. I’m speaking, naturally, of The Muppets, the James Bobin-directed movie that launches Kermit the Frog and all his felt friends onto the big screen for the first time in more than a decade. While television specials and viral videos have helped them maintain a presence in recent years, The Muppets feels like a joyous return to the glory days of those madcap mischief-makers whose merriment brought mirth to millions.

It takes a special kind of person to get the Muppets in such a visceral way as to be able to revive them for a cynical generation. When I heard that Jason Segel was not just starring but actually co-writing the screenplay, I thought, “You know, this could be a very good thing.” While some of his recent projects have had a decidedly off-color streak, I will always recall Segel first as sweetly goofy aspiring drummer Nick Andopolis on the sadly short-lived high school dramedy Freaks and Geeks, and the endearing idealism he brought to that character seems a perfect fit for Jim Henson’s relentlessly positive creations. Together with Nicholas Stoller, he crafted a screenplay as innocent as it is exuberant – a movie that dares to demonstrate that there is room in this world for hope, togetherness and splashy musical numbers… and maybe an ill-timed explosion or two.

Segel plays Gary, a lovable grown-up kid who still shares a house with his little brother, his best friend. The brotherly affection between Gary and Walter, earnestly voiced by Peter Linz, is so genuine that it never feels weird that one is a man and one is a Muppet. In fact, it hearkens back to the peculiar brotherhood between Kermit and Fozzie Bear in The Great Muppet Caper. These are characters who have always transcended the traditional boundaries of family. Still, living in a tiny town surrounded by humans, Walter feels out of place, even with the world’s most supportive big brother looking out for him. His discovery of the Muppets as a child quickly bloomed into an obsession, a dream of a different destiny. Now, years later, Walter is childlike as ever and about to achieve a lifelong dream. But what kind of growing up will be required for him to take that all-important step?

Walter is truly the heart of the movie, a representation of those devoted fans for whom the luster of the Muppets has never dimmed. Like Kermit in The Muppet Movie, he is a dreamer in search of a connection, but because The Muppet Show pointed the way for him, he knows just where to find it. It’s a story of self-discovery, of letting go and reconnecting, and all those who ever laughed until they cried over Gonzo’s cannon-shot chickens and Fozzie’s groan-worthy jokes will understand the euphoria emblazoned on Walter’s flexible face as his heroes gradually gather for a raucous reunion.

These are the viewers who will best appreciate all of the in-jokes and the cameos from lesser-known Muppets, to say nothing of the wistfully funny situations in which the main players find themselves. The newly initiated, meanwhile, can have fun pointing out all the human celebrities, from contemporary child stars Selena Gomez and Modern Family’s Rico Rodriguez to elder statesmen Mickey Rooney and Alan Arkin. Jack Black gets more screen time than most as Animal’s disgruntled anger management sponsor, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who geeked out over the revelation of who Walter would look like if he were human.

Then, of course, a menacing Chris Cooper is the oil baron darkly commiserating with his paltry band of sycophants as the fate of the Muppet Studio Theatre hangs in balance, while Amy Adams brings her usual brand of sunshine with a spritzer of vulnerability to Mary, a hands-on teacher so beloved by her students they dread spring break but unable to secure a commitment from the man she’s dated for a decade. Like Segel, she seems a perfect fit for the Muppets’ harmonious mayhem.

Speaking of harmonies, there are some great ones in this movie that features several original songs written by Bret McKenzie, one-half of the brilliantly batty New Zealand folk-comedy duo Flight of the Conchords. His style meshes marvelously with the Muppets’ fine fusion of silliness and warmth, with the two standouts the soul-searching duet between the brothers and the lavish group number we hear at both the beginning and end of the movie. Beyond that, we get classic Muppet fare like Rainbow Connection and Mahna Mahna with a new twist or two, along with a few regular radio hits. If I’d had any lingering doubt as to whether they were going to pull this off, I would have relinquished it in sheer delight over the opening montage set to the sprightly strains of a song Paul Simon once performed on Sesame Street.

However, even before the movie started I was grinning over the Toy Story short Small Fry, which pokes fun at poorly conceived kids’ meal toys at fast food restaurants. On a trip to a medieval-themed chicken joint, Buzz Lightyear falls prey to a nefarious plot by a miniature Buzz who has languished too long in the display case. After a romp in the ball pit, Little Buzz makes his way into Bonnie’s backpack to hobnob with Woody and the gang while the real Buzz wanders into a group therapy session for discarded toys led by a militant mermaid voiced by Jane Lynch. Askew versions of beloved characters and a bunch of oddballs finding solace in each other appropriately foreshadows what’s to come in the movie proper.

More than 15 years ago, Pixar established itself as a studio capable of bringing that rare blend of sly wit and wholesome fun that, coupled with a compelling story, makes an ideal family film. The Jim Henson Company has always offered that type of entertainment, so The Muppets is truly a joy from pre-start to finish. While reflecting upon the wonders of the rainbow, a famous frog has postulated, “We know that it’s probably magic.” If we’re talking about the rainbow of marvelous misfits that make up the Muppets, there’s no “probably” about it.

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!

Celebrating Paul Simon's 70th Birthday With Graceland

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In So Beautiful or So What, Paul Simon Chooses Beautiful

When I think of great American songwriters, few names come to mind as readily as Paul Simon, whose words have been deeply ingrained in the public consciousness for nearly half a century. From the naïve enthusiasm of youthful cross-country travelers in America to the world-weary but accepting maturity of American Tune, he has commented extensively on the joys and sorrows of the American condition. Meanwhile, his Bridge Over Troubled Water, sung with such splendor by his soon-to-be-ex-singing-partner Art Garfunkel, was just the salve an aching nation needed during the tumult of the early 1970s. It seems appropriate, then, to post a review of Paul Simon’s latest album, So Beautiful or So What, on Independence Day. That said, this truly is an album for all seasons.

Getting Ready for Christmas Day - It’s a little funny to find an opening track about Christmas on an album released in April, but the song fits in with the album’s themes of reflecting on religion, divinity and making preparations. The tone is jubilant and optimistic, with the verses acknowledging life’s hardships but soaking up contentment anyway. Exuberant chaos surrounds Paul’s words, partly because of the recording of the call-and-response sermon by Rev. J. M. Gates that inspired the song, partly because of what I can only guess is some strange manipulation of the guitar strings to produce a spooky shrieking sound. I would’ve guessed a more unusual instrument was used here, but the album notes only mention guitars and drums. I find the effect a little unnerving, but maybe that’s the point, with Christmas jarring the speaker abruptly out of self-pity and giving him something positive to focus on. An upbeat start to the album. “If I could tell my mom and dad that the things we never had never mattered; we were always okay. Getting ready, oh ready, ready for Christmas Day…”

The Afterlife - In this percussion-heavy song featuring several different types of guitars, Paul imagines the entry into Heaven as a rather tedious bureaucratic process: “You got to fill out a form first, and then you wait in the line…” Still, the rambling song has a whimsical feel to it, and even a reverent one by the end as all the waiting is worth it. “After you climb up the ladder of time, the Lord God is near. Face-to-face in the vastness of space, your words disappear, and you feel like you’re swimming in an ocean of love…”

Dazzling Blue - Lots of interesting instruments in this one, including the fiddle, the glockenspiel, vocal percussion, the tabla, the clay pot and the dobro. There’s a sense of mystery about this song, which feels fitting for Fourth of July with its talk of “dazzling blue, roses red, fine white linen to make a marriage bed.” It’s a love song, seemingly about a life shared together and enduring many trials. This one feels like it could be autobiographical, with the talk of rainy days and distance recalling Kathy’s Song and of a musician’s life on the road recalling Homeward Bound. The general feel I get from the album is one of curiosity and contentment, wondering about the mysteries of the world but being more focused on gratefully enjoying the ride, whatever it may mean. I wonder if Paul ever watched LOST; he seems to have the same sort of outlook as show-runners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse… “Sweet July, and we drove the Montauk Highway and walked along the cliffs above the sea, and we wondered why, and imagined it was someday and that is how the future came to be.”

Rewrite - Very distinct guitar work on this one, along with the kora, the djembe, and angklung and glass harp. A good portion of the song is purely instrumental, which feels reflective of the deep thinking the speaker is doing. On the one hand, he seems to be talking about writing a novel, reminding me of the Beatles’ Paperback Writer, but by the end, I get the sense that it’s more about wishing he could rewrite his life and simply undo the mistakes he has made. Given the optimistic tone of the album, I’m inclined to think that this man, whose whistling seems to indicate a cheerful frame of mind, is actually doing something to make amends rather than just daydreaming about it. As with most of the songs here, there’s also a spiritual thread, as he is addressing God and thanking Him for listening and helping him turn his life around. “I’ll eliminate the pages where the father has a breakdown and he has to leave the family but he really meant no harm. I’m gonna substitute a car chase and a race across the rooftops when the father saves the children and he holds them in his arms.”

Love and Hard Times - This song has a very different sound to it right off the bat because it is so slow and the most prominent instrument, at least initially, is the piano. Gradually other instruments join in, giving the song a richly orchestral feel as flutes, guitars, violas, clarinets and English horns, among others, take turns being highlighted. Flutes in particular stand out to me, accentuating statements of natural beauty like “Orange blossoms opened their fragrant lips.” It’s a rather odd song, since it begins with God and Jesus visiting Earth and remarking that they seem to be more appreciated in their absence, then turns into a love song. However, the lyrics come back around to God again in the final lines as the speaker remarks, “Thank God, I found you,” and he seems to mean it literally. An interesting reflection on the tendency of deep feelings to bloom in adversity. “’Well, we got to get going,’ said the restless Lord to the Son. ‘There are galaxies yet to be born. Creation is never done…’”

Love Is Eternal Sacred Light - We’re back to up-tempo and guitar-heavy again in this curious song that speculates on the nature of the universe. There’s an old-timey Gospel feel here, with the percussion reminding me of a rumbling locomotive and a harmonica adding to the nostalgic flavor. The verses take some complex turns, but the basic theme seems to be that God is love. The speaker spends the first part of the song eloquently theorizing about the origins and nature of the universe and the last part simply enjoying his place in it. Meanwhile, in the middle, Paul’s voice gets extremely low as he has God speak for Himself for two verses, seemingly bemused at the speaker’s ramblings. “Big Bang. That’s a joke that I made up once when I had eons to kill. You know, most folks, they don’t get when I’m joking. Well, maybe someday they will.”

Amulet - This instrumental track is by far the shortest on the album and just features Paul on the acoustic guitar, with faint humming now and then. I’m not sure what the title signifies, but it’s a lovely, stripped-down melody.

Questions for the Angels - This is another slow, meditative song that picks up tempo a bit in the last verse. Again, it’s about pondering life’s enigmas, this time posing conundrums to angels. I love the slight alteration of the chorus the second time around, from “Who believes in angels? Fools do” to “Who believes in angels? I do.” The song contains a strong thread of compassion for those who are disenfranchised, beginning with a “pilgrim” wandering through New York City with scarcely a penny to his name. The thoughts turn from general to increasingly specific, with the end of the song mentioning Jay-Z and weeping zebras. An intriguing reflection. “If you shop for love in a bargain store and you don’t get what you bargained for, can you get your money back? If an empty train in a railroad station calls you to its destination, can you choose another track?”

Love & Blessings - Guitar and drums are the main instruments in use here, though a clarinet makes an impression late in the song, which is marked by excerpts from a 1938 recording of the Golden Gate Jubilee Quartet. The repeated line of “Bop-bop-a-whoa” hearkens back to The Afterlife, which ends with the speaker unable to articulate anything but nonsense fragments of an old rock song. There’s a bit of a melancholy edge to this one, a sense of ephemerality; his point seems to be to cherish every moment because they good times don’t last forever – but then, neither do the bad times. “Love and blessings, simple kindness fell like rain on thirsty land. Fields and gardens long abandoned came to life in dust and sand.”

So Beautiful or So What - This title song is a mid-tempo, guitar-heavy number that emphasizes the importance of one’s outlook. It acknowledges darkness and suffering in the world, even referencing the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., but the idealistic tone that pervades the album is once again evident here, as the speaker chooses to focus on the positive, and the final repetition of “So beautiful, so beautiful…” makes a fitting final statement for this album. “Life is what you make of it, so beautiful or so what.”

In his introduction in the liner notes, acclaimed musician Elvis Costello praises Paul Simon for rejecting “the allure of fashionable darkness.” While a certain somber quality has always run through Paul’s music and even his voice has a sad edge to it, beauty has always been present as well, and just months shy of the iconic 70-year mark he discussed in Old Friends, he seems to be very much at peace with the world, the universe and his place in it. He speaks as a man who does not have all the answers, but what a pleasure it is to listen to him explore the questions.

Return to Pooh Corner With Kenny Loggins

Years ago, I recall my dad presenting me with a CD containing the song House at Pooh Corner. I’d never heard the song before, and I loved the hard-rockin’ tune with the gentle lyrics as performed by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. After all, I am a big fan of the Silly Old Bear. It was quite some time before it occurred to me that if I liked the song so much, I should have a look at the singer-songwriter who penned it one melancholy day as he was teetering on the edge of adulthood. That’s what brought me to Kenny Loggins’ Return to Pooh Corner. Like Art Garfunkel’s Songs From a Parent to a Child, it’s a wonderful collection of lullabies for children to absorb along with their parents.

All the Pretty Little Horses - I have to chuckle a little bit because the song that opens Garfunkel’s album is Who’s Gonna Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet? I guess “pretty little” things are pretty popular with little folks! This Celtic-flavored track includes some poignant-sounding harmonies on the chorus and a smattering of intriguing instrumentation. A sweet song encouraging a reluctant child to sleep. “Can you see the little ponies shinin’ before your eyes? All the pretty little ponies gonna be there when you arrive.”

Neverland Medley: Somewhere Out There / Never Never Land / Pure Imagination - This medley includes songs from three different whimsical musicals: Don Bluth’s An American Tail, the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. All three are great songs that have to do with far-off places, but my favorite is definitely Somewhere Out There, one of my all-time favorite duets, which in the context of the movie applies to a brother and sister who have lost each other but is general enough that it really can have to do with any two people who care about each other but are separated by a great distance. “Even though I know how very far apart we are, it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star. And when the night wind starts to sing its lonesome lullaby, it helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky.”

Return to Pooh Corner - This is essentially House at Pooh Corner with an extra verse added to make it a little less melancholy, a little more about passing the wonder of childhood on to the next generation. Loggins is no longer that conflicted high school kid reluctant to put away childhood things; he’s the dad who knows what carefree joys await his own children and anticipates getting caught up in the magic with them. Instead of Peter, Paul and Mary’s forlorn Puff the Magic Dragon, it now reminds me of Dick Feller’s more optimistic Biff the Friendly Purple Bear. A loving tribute to the timeless Pooh and his plush pals, and Christopher Robin, too. “After all’s said and done, I was watching my son sleeping there with my bear by his side. So I tucked him in, I kissed him, and as I was goin’, I swear that old bear whispered, ‘Boy, welcome home.’”

Rainbow Connection - A lovely banjo-backed cover of the classic Kermit the Frog anthem about chasing your dreams. The second track on the album to mention wishing on stars, and a great one for those who dare to yearn for the seemingly impossible. “Have you been half-asleep, and have you heard voices? I’ve heard them calling my name. Are these the sweet sounds that called the young sailors? I think they’re one and the same. I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it; there’s something that I’m supposed to be…”

St. Judy’s Comet - Birdsong contributes to this tender Paul Simon cover, which Loggins sings with an interesting tone in a seeming effort to imitate Simon’s own delivery. Another song encouraging a sleepy child to embrace slumber, using plenty of imagery of the night sky to paint a magnificent picture of the backdrop to a dreamscape. “Won’t you run come see St. Judy’s Comet roll across the sky, leave a spray of diamonds in its wake? I long to see St. Judy’s Comet sparkle in your eyes.”

The Last Unicorn - Written by Jimmy Webb, who wrote several songs recorded by Garfunkel, this haunting song is backed by piano, and it has a very wistful edge to it. Originally performed by America, this was the theme song of the Rankin-Bass movie of the same name. As somebody who grew up with the Irish Rovers’ rendition of Shel Silverstein’s The Unicorn, which details how the unicorns were so preoccupied with their own frivolity that they never made it onto Noah’s Ark, I can’t help thinking that this seems like a response to that – that somehow, a unicorn survived and still lurks in some enchanted corner of the world. “In the shadow of the forest, though she may be old and worn, they will stare, disbelieving, at the last unicorn.”

Cody’s Song - The first song on the album that I had never heard before. I still have never encountered this in another context. It’s a nice song, and I love the extended harmonica solo, but it doesn’t quite grab me as much as most of the others. “I’ll be there to sing to you. I promise you, I promise to comfort you and sing to you.”

The Horses - This is the other song I haven’t encountered anywhere other than this album. I’m a little surprised he didn’t save this one for last, since it would make such a nice bookend with the first song, although it’s slightly more up-tempo than most of the songs on this disc, and I suppose he wanted to end on a strict lullaby. I really like the harmonica on this one, and there’s a nice dreamlike quality to it. “Can you see her moonlight in her eye? Coming from under my wing, you were born to fly.”

Love - A nice, simple song by John Lennon, who had a special talent for effective minimalism in his lyrics. Sometimes, you just don’t need a lot of complexity. Love can be complicated, but at its most basic, it’s really not. The ocarina adds a haunting quality to this gentle song that works very well as a lullaby, with the extended piano outro tenderly lulling the listener into sleep. “Love is you, you and me. Love is wanting to be free. Love is knowing we will be.”

To-Ra-Loo-Ra - As into Ireland as I am – my name, after all, almost requires it – I’m very much in favor of this track, which includes some gorgeous work on the Celtic harp. Lyrically, it’s little else than that classic Irish title phrase, but really, what else is needed? Delicate and perfectly lovely. “To-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, that’s an Irish lullaby…”

Return to Pooh Corner is a tender album for children and for children who never grew up, or who did but found themselves growing back down once, as C. S. Lewis said, they became old enough to start reading fairy tales again. Return to Pooh Corner with Kenny Loggins; it’s a good place to be.

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.

Paul Simon Speaks For All Devoted Dads in Father and Daughter

Father's Day is right around the corner, and it's a good time to think about some of the great songs out their dealing with father-child relationships. I can name a few right off the top of my head: Bob Carlisle's Butterfly Kisses, Mike and the Mechanics' The Living Years, Harry Chapin's Cat's in the Cradle, Luther Vandross's Dance With My Father, Rod Stewart's Forever Young, Brad Paisley's He Didn't Have to Be... to say nothing of several of the songs on Michael Card's Sleep Sound in Jesus and Art Garfunkel's Songs From a Parent to a Child. It's to Art's former partner, Paul Simon, that I turn my attention here, with one of the most recent additions to the group: Father and Daughter. Now if the title alone doesn't just scream "Father's Day" - at least for all us gals - I don't know what does.

It was written for 2002's The Wild Thornberries Movie, which I've never seen; though I tend to be a bit suspicious of a cartoon that looks so much like Rugrats, from the little snippets I've seen of the television show, I like the emphasis on conservation and on geeky Animal Whisperer Eliza's relationship with her eccentric, enthusiastic dad, and from what I gather, this is what the song celebrates in the context of the film. I presume that it's also autobiographical, as Paul's daughter Lucia was about six at the time it was written. While the movie itself didn't seem like the sort likely to win any awards, Simon picked up an Oscar nomination for Best Song, losing out to Eminem with Lose Yourself.

Father and Daughter is written as a love letter from a father to his little girl, so the lyrics are fairly simple, especially in the chorus, which includes the expansive statement "As long as one and one is two, / there could never be a father who loves his daughter more than I love you." Isn't that just the way most devoted dads feel? The mix of percussion and rambling guitar gives the film a slightly African flavor; it's easy to imagine the instrumentals as a cascading waterfall or a chorus of nocturnal creatures in the background. It feels like a bedtime song; Paul's tone is soft and comforting, and there are references to dreams, falling stars and monsters under the bed.

There is one line that strikes me as peculiar every time I hear it, and I wonder if it would make more sense if I saw the movie, or if it's some kind of inside reference meant as a nod to Lucia. "I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a Golden Retriever." My first thought was that Paul wrote the lyric that way just for the sake of a rhyme, which doesn't seem like his style, especially since that particular internal rhyme pattern is unique in the song. But if it were me, I think I would feel a lot better about having an actual Golden Retriever standing there; what good, precisely, is a postcard going to do? I guess it could be a comforting image, but it still seems a little odd. (Incidentally, that same year, James Taylor, who once recorded What a Wonderful World with Paul and Art, released the album October Road, which also includes a positive reference to a Golden Retriever. It was a good year for the Goldens!)

This isn't my favorite Father's Day song out there - that would be Dan Fogelberg's Leader of the Band, a tribute to a much-loved father from a son just beginning to understand his powerful influence on his life - but it's certainly a keeper. (I’m always keeping an ear out for songs along these lines, so if you have any favorites, I’d love to find a few more!) One of Paul Simon’s most tender tunes, Father and Daughter is a beautiful celebration of one of life’s most precious relationships. Eliza and Lucia are lucky girls. So am I.

Get LOST With Paul Simon in This SNL Christmas Collection

The tree is down, and so are the outside lights and most of the inside decorations. Holiday compilations are out of the rotation in the CD player. I almost have Christmas out of my system. Before I let it go, I have to allow myself a few more Christmas movies from my Netflix queue. Last week, I treated myself to Saturday Night Live: Christmas Past.

Released in 1999, it contains mostly sketches from the variety show's glory days, with the likes of Dan Aykroyd and Chevy Chase, and later Dana Carvey and Chris Farley. The most recent material includes Molly Shannon and Cheri Oteri. The special clocks in at just over an hour; while it includes 18 amusing skits, I'm sure SNL could easily release another volume, particularly with the inclusion of sketches from the last decade. I'd put in a vote for the obnoxious couple at the Christmas tree lot (2005) and, dare I confess, 2006's phenomenally popular music video starring Andy Samberg and Justin Timberlake. What this collection gives us is a range of material, most of it slightly off-color.

Christmas Eve At The White House - Chevy Chase does his usual Gerald-Ford-is-a-klutz shtick, and it's pretty funny, though extremely ridiculous. In Chase's hands, the poor president can't do anything right; he is unable to follow simple instructions for how to give his Christmas address; he hangs his children's stockings upside-down; he knocks over the Christmas tree. Pure slapstick, and bearing very little resemblance, I'm sure, to the real guy.

Opening Montage - Bill Murray does an opening monologue, and when Santa (Dan Aykroyd) shows up, he has all sorts of great stuff to say about him. Nothing objectionable about this one, but it seemed very short.

Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood on Christmas - I'm not sure I want this guy as my neighbor. Eddie Murphy spoofs Mr. Rogers in a ghetto version of the beloved man in the sweater. Actually, he's everything Mr. Rogers isn't, as he demonstrates when, clad in a Santa suit, he opens his sack of stolen toys and confides his plan to make a killing by ringing a bell and holding out a Salvation Army kettle. Murphy is a funny guy, but I'm not sure this one sits so well with me...

Delicious Dish - The two most boring women on the planet (played by Molly Shannon and Ana Gasteyer) host a holiday edition of their NPR cooking show. Their special guest is a baker (Alec Baldwin) with the last name Schwetty whose specialty is "balls". You know, like Russian tea cakes and doughnut holes. It's ever so benign, but the three take the opportunity to cram as much innuendo into one sketch as they possibly can. I think I saw this one live; certainly it's shown up in a bunch of SNL clip shows. It's Austin Powers-style naughty.

Church Chat - Dana Carvey is the persnickety "Church Lady" who invites guests onto her show just to scold them. Pretty funny, especially since I definitely know a few people like that. After two guests, one of them Danny Devito as himself, get a stern tongue-lashing, the Church Lady rocks out on the drums, and Devito does some festive singing.

Martha Stewart's Topless Christmas Special - This bizarre segment features Ana Gasteyer as Martha Stewart, cheerfully instructing anyone who cares to listen on the finer points of merrymaking, such as making a ludicrously complicated table decoration, though of course she claims that it's simple. For the most part, though, the humor derives from the fact that she is conducting her entire show topless (with a strategically placed black bar, of course). Um... why?

Hannukah Song - Ah, finally we're getting to the really good stuff. My second-favorite segment on the DVD, this has Norm McDonald at the news desk introducing Adam Sandler, who strums his guitar and sings a career-making song about all the famous people who are Jewish, so as to help Jewish kids to feel a little less left out around Christmastime. Funny, informative, even somewhat touching, this one is a winner, and I always turn up the volume when it comes on the radio in December.

A Holiday Wish - Steve Martin sits in a cozy easy chair and expounds upon what he would ask for if he had just one wish for Christmas. It starts out very warm and fuzzy but quickly degenerates as he adds more and more wishes, each less sentimental than the last. With a bit of a 12 Days of Christmas feel to it - though, thankfully, he stops long before 12 - this is dryly amusing but also considerably crass.

Matt Foley: Motivational Speaker - Phil Hartman hires Matt Foley (Chris Farley) to be the Santa in his shopping mall. I've been subjected to many skits in this series, and all of them give me a headache. Farley's vocal delivery makes me want to hit "mute" after a few seconds. My brother Nathan thought this one, which featured Sally Field as a furious mom and a slew of kids - an unusual sight on SNL - was hilarious, but I wasn't too impressed, aside from the rather clever way he managed to work his "van down by the river" shtick into a Visit From St. Nicholas-style Christmas story.

Consumer Probe - This one, however, had me laughing quite a bit. Candace Bergen grills a slimy toymaker played by Dan Aykroyd about the dangerous toys his company continues to make, while he tries to point out their value and convince her that even the most innocent of toys could potentially result in injury. Very funny.

Lost Ending of It's A Wonderful Life - It's William Shatner! But not for long. He merely introduces this missing ending of the Frank Capra classic. While the cast members do a pretty good job of imitating the various characters from that movie, it kinda takes the warm fuzzies out of it when George (Dana Carvey) leads the rest of the townsfolk in an angry mob against that nasty old man who stole his money.

Santa Wrap - This looks like something that could have been on American Inventor. Dan Aykroyd explains the advantage of Santa wrap, which he applies to the most unsanitary lap of a grossly inebriated mall Santa (John Belushi). A rather entertaining little commercial.

The Nigh Hannukah Harry Saved Christmas - Jon Lovitz as Hanukah Harry fills in for Santa, who is sick. A jovial fellow, he is nonetheless received with some disappointment by a pair of eagerly waiting kids when he gives them rather dull Jewish-themed gifts instead of the toys they were expecting. But it ends on a fairly heartwarming note when Santa comes anyway and the kids decide that Harry, too, is worthy of appreciation.

Deserted Island Christmas - I would have been very disappointed if this hadn't been included. In fact, it was the main reason I rented the DVD. I saw this on a television Christmas special once, and I absolutely adored it. Paul Simon? Desert island? Talk about a winning combination! He and Victoria Jackson are a couple stranded for Christmas, but they don't care too much. They're going to make a celebration of it anyway, and Paul feels rather pleased with himself over the potholders he's made and the fancy shells he's found as gifts for his ladylove... until she reveals an exquisite handmade watch and telescope and details how she managed to create them. Sweet and hilarious.

Winter Wonderland - Fun group song. Everybody gets involved, and as the ladies and gentlemen battle it out with their harmonies, it grows more and more chaotic.

Dysfunctional Family Christmas - More musical merriment, though it offers an awfully bleak view of the holidays. Phil Hartman and the gang advertise a collection of songs celebrating the darker side of Christmas.

Rita From Brooklyn - Outrageous New York accents rule the day as Cheri Oteri, Rosie O'Donnell and Penny Marshall duke it out over their lawn decorations until a group of caroling children change their perspective. Pretty funny.

Master Thespian - Almost a rehash of Matt Foley, with Jon Lovitz in the Santa suit instead this time. Phil Hartman is the mall manager again, and once more he finds he's got a little more than he bargained for with this overdramatic St. Nick. I like it better than the Chris Farley one, but it might have been nice to end the disc on something a little less repetitive.

All told, it's a moderately entertaining collection, but the crude nature of most of the sketches makes it a DVD I wouldn't go out of my way to include in the yearly holiday rotation. If you've ever gotten a laugh out of SNL, though, give it a shot. For my money, it's worth a look just for Deserted Island Christmas. Now if they only could have gotten Paulie to sing the Gilligan's Island theme song...

Am I the Only Movie Buff Who Didn't Like Annie Hall?

I write this review with trepidation because I am about to confess that I was not impressed with Annie Hall. I've heard the movie is iconic, and a post-viewing investigation revealed that it has an average rating of five stars here and an astonishing 98 percent on Rotten Tomatoes. So I know I'm in the minority here. But I watched it with my parents the other night, and while I laughed a few times, mostly I wondered what all the fuss was about.

Maybe I just don't like Woody Allen all that much. Maybe I find it annoying that Alvy, the neurotic, pessimistic, rambling nerd he portrays, is constantly addressing the audience directly. I didn't like it when David Spade did it in The Emperor's New Groove, and I don't like it here. Maybe I'm concerned that I see myself in the nervous little boy in the flashback who can't do his homework because he's worried about the universe imploding. I hate to give the guy a hard time since he already seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I sure hope I haven't grown up to be like him.

Maybe I just don't find the romance between him and Annie (Diane Keaton) particularly touching or hilarious. Maybe it strikes me as tedious that a majority of his conversations seem to be about sex. Maybe I don't like the way the film jumps around between flashbacks, real-time and imaginary scenarios, sometimes without any clear indication of what is happening. Maybe the whole thing feels dated. Maybe I feel stupid because I just don't get it. Maybe it's all of those things. Maybe it's more.

That's not to say that I didn't get any enjoyment out of the movie. I did laugh aloud sometimes at Alvy's dry observations, and I thought some of the film devices were clever, such as the brief interlude with him as a cartoon character interacting with the queen from Snow White and the scene in which he daydreams about conjuring up Marshall McLuhan to silence an obnoxious faux-intellectual fellow filmgoer.

And it's fun to pick out not-yet-famous folks in minor roles: Jeff Goldblum as a guest at a party, Sigourney Weaver as one of Alvy's dates, John Glover as one of Annie's former flames, Christopher Walken as her intense, probably psychotic brother. And of course, I was keeping my eyes peeled for Paul Simon. It took him a long time to show up, but he finally did, and it was a treat to see him exercise his acting chops, which I've previously seen him do on Saturday Night Live with hilarious results.

While the film doesn't feel terribly edgy considering the sort of stuff that shows up on prime time television every night, I was nonetheless a bit surprised that it was only rated PG. Of course, the significance of ratings seems to have shifted somewhat since then. When I see "PG," I automatically think "family movie". This isn't. It's inappropriate for kids, and frankly, I think most would be bored stiff. However, there's really not much profanity or nudity or any of the other criteria to push it up to the next level, since "PG-13" didn't exist back then.

I'm not sorry I rented Annie Hall, but I would never buy it and have no desire to watch it again. I suspect I'm missing the point. Maybe I don't care.

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.

Paul Simon - Surprise

Paul Simon's Surprise is great, but that's no surprise, is it?

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.

Simon and Garfunkel Recapture the Magic in Cleveland, October 20

Background

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

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

Pre-Concert

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

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

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

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

The Concert

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Observations

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

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

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

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

Final Thoughts

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