Now that we've truly reached the end of the 20th century--no premature celebrations here, thank you very much--I've been in search of a more substantive musical subject, someone whose work has held up over the years and stood out among the work of their peers. I find myself writing about one of America's more recognized and accomplished songwriters, someone who has contributed as much as anyone to the soundtrack of recent times.
Through the medium of popular song, Paul Simon has expressed the thoughts and feelings of a generation, from "The Sound of Silence" to "American Tune" to "Late In the Evening" to "Graceland." He has paid tribute to American icons and youthful ideals in songs like "Mrs. Robinson" and "The Boxer." As he approached middle age, Simon related the joys and sorrows of personal relationships in "Still Crazy After All These Years" and the haunting "Hearts and Bones." He has acknowledged the influence of others in songs like "So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright" and "The Late Great Johnny Ace."
Simon has even created an anthem or two, including "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and, perhaps to a lesser degree, "Kodachrome." Sprinkled in among these masterpieces are songs like "Old Friends, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," "Train in the Distance," and "Diamonds On the Soles of Her Shoes." He's also been a constant musical innovator, sharing his evolving interest in the music of other cultures.
So, as we step forward into the New Year and a new century I thought it an appropriate time to say, "Yo, Paul. Nice work," and offer a few comments on his most recent release.
You're The One, on Warner Bros. Records, is an example of pop song elevated to something more, to a craft that weaves rhythm, melody, and poetry into songs that are in turn philosophical, humorous, matter-of-fact, touching, and even hilarious in Simon's own quiet way.
I've been listening to You're the One since its release in early October. Simon's love of his craft is still evident, even after more than forty years, although the remarkably relaxed nature of this work gives it something of a casual, diffident air. As pop music it may be a bit shy on hooks, but it's long on thoughtful lyrics and interesting rhythms. I find myself noticing the intricate interplay of a battery of different percussion instruments, and also recalling various lyric fragments at odd moments.
"That's Where I Belong" emerges from an aural haze as a dreamy acknowledgement of the mystical origins of Simon's craft and acceptance of his calling.
Somewhere in a burst of glory
Sound becomes a song
I'm bound to tell a story
That's where I belong
The song continues on a more personal level, accepting someone with whom "every ending (is) a beginning," and in closing paints a somewhat deprecatory, almost surrealistic image of a man going "to a river where the water meets the sky." With these words Simon's voice becomes a soaring falsetto, only to have the melody resolve itself from the heights of the relative minor scale it has climbed, returning him to where he belongs.
It's somehow ironic that Simon, whose early successes were built primarily on sensitive lyrics, beautiful harmonies, and delicate melodies, has been called upon to coax our Western ears into appreciating the complexities of rhythms from other cultures. However, rhythm has always been an important element of his work--one could hardly expect anything less of an artist who grew up in the 1950s on doo-wop and rock 'n roll.
On You're The One, the African and South American rhythms that were displayed so prominently on Graceland and The Rhythm of the Saints are deeply but subtly woven into the fabric of the music, not unlike the colors in the tapestry that provides the backdrop for the CD's liner notes and lyrics.
For example, the African percussion--mbira, I think--that leads off the Raymond Carver-like story of romance "Darling Lorraine" becomes the framework for twinkling electric guitars. As the story progresses, the guitars give way to the sad moan of a cello. Along the way, Simon is by turns amusingly honest--"What-you don't love me anymore? You don't like the way I chew?"--and casually insightful--"The doctor was smiling but the news wasn't good."
In the title song, Simon's even-handed narrative style is employed to look at a relationship from both points of view. One wonders whether his current (and most-enduring) marriage to singer Edie Brickell has contributed to his current Buddha-like state of mind. The first two iterations of the chorus to "You're the One" are mantra-like repetitions of
You're the one
You broke my heart
You made me cry
In the final verse, however, Simon takes more of a cosmic perspective. This is also reflected in the final iteration of the chorus, which progresses from the accusatory "You're the one" refrain to the more accepting "We're the ones."
Some of Simon's lyrics are apparently inspired by the three children he and Brickell are raising, and his second-time-around role as a father. The playful "Look At That" includes the lines
Look at that
Look at this
Gimme a hug, gimme a kiss
Then hey, hey, off to school we go
You might learn something
Yeah, you never know
I laughed when I heard this, because it reminded me of the opening lines to 1973's "Kodachrome," which talked about "all the crap I learned in high school." Think the kids might ask about that one, Paul?
"Pigs, Sheep and Wolves" is an allegorical tale that also seems to be written with a younger audience in mind. Like Orwell's Animal Farm, though, there's plenty here for adults to giggle at as well. The combination of Simon's exaggerated vocal delivery and lines like
Sleep all day
Hunt 'til four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know, carnivore
bring a smile to my face, much like the dialogue from some of the better-quality cartoon shows. Those of you with young children know what I'm talking about.
"Quiet" is, to my way of thinking, an acknowledgement of Simon's mortality. Just as the opening song is an acceptance of his calling, "Quiet" is an acceptance of fate, an ode to his own demise.
I am heading for a time of solitude
Of peace without illusions
When the perfect circle
Marries all beginnings and conclusions
Some of the other songs didn't speak to me as much as ones quoted here, although I think "Love" is a good example of Simon's ability to embrace a melody, to caress it and explore it in ways that probe the music's possibilities. Interestingly, Simon was quoted a few years ago as saying that he believes we're past the age of melody, and that people will forget what it is. You're The One may not include the catchiest melodies of Simon's career, nor his richest poetry. However, it does show that he remains one of the most gifted and eloquent songwriters of our time.
To some, pop music is by definition a throwaway collection of catchy hooks and shallow lyrics, with a half-life that's measured in weeks. To others, it's merely an outlet for angst that, like acne and adolescence, is something to be outgrown. To each his own, but I have found Simon's work to be a rich vein of music, a source of both wonder and inspiration, and a significant part of the soundtrack of my own life.