That's Me

In some cases, it's clear that the speaker in a Paul Simon song is not, in fact, Simon himself. One example might be "Duncan," in which he states "Lincoln Duncan is my name." In other cases, it could go either way.

Here, Simon is very clear that this is an autobiographical effort. He announces that he is going to fast forward past "the boring parts," where he is a baby and even up through his college "graduation." The "bogus degree" is one in English. Considering he made his career as a writer, that may be unfair-- he might be one of the few to ever parlay that degree into a career at all!

He explains that he was a dreamer, not career driven: "I was more like a landlocked sailor/ Searching for the emerald sea."

The first thing of import that happens to him, that even invokes an interjection-- "Oh, my God"-- is his "first love," which "opens like a flower," then is suddenly much more intimidating: "A black bear" that "holds me in her sight and her power."

Then the metaphor shifts again. "But tricky skies, your eyes are true," could refer to the sky's metaphorical eyes, but the "you" could also to be listener, his first love. In this case, he thought the future was to be sunny with her, but the skies tricked him and instead brought forth foul weather. She did not trick him-- her eyes were "true"-- so fortune was what changed. This being autobiographical, I am going to go out on a limb and say this "first love" was Kathy, and the fortune that changed was his success.

"The future," it turned out brough both "beauty and sorrow," perhaps being both new loves, children, and recognition for his artistic efforts on the one hand, and the breakup with Garfunkel, his divorces, and other sorrows on the other.

So... does he regret his choice to leave Kathy in England and return to New York to pursue music? "Still, I wish that we could run away and live the life we used to/ If just for tonight and tomorrow." So he does wonder about it, but knows that his life now is what he would prefer. He is wise enough to know that, even if he had stayed, life would still have brought both "beauty and sorrow."

And then... we are at the present! But Simon is not resting on his many, many laurels. He still considers himself striving for better, newer heights: "I am walking up the face of the mountain/ Counting every step I climb."

As he climbs, he looks higher still: "Remembering the names of the constellations/ Forgotten is a long, long time." Perhaps this refers to his heroes, the "stars" he idolizes and idealizes, and feels that, even standing on his mountain, he will never ascend to those heights.

Plus, he may be out of time, or nearly so. He is aware of his age: "I’m in the valley of twilight." The next line, "Now I’m on the continental shelf," refers to the edge of a landmass that is usually underwater, before the land falls away and you are entirely in the ocean. Again, this is an image of near mortality.

In the last line, he perhaps summarizes his entire artistic career: "That’s me—/ I’m answering a question/ I am asking of myself." All of his songs are potential answers to the questions he has been pondering. Since he keep writing songs, perhaps he is trying to adjust to the fact that he may never know. At least he let us listen in.


Next Song: Father and Daughter

Quiet

The obvious reading of this song is that the "time of quiet" Simon refers to is death. But this album came out in 2000, and Simon was born in 1941. So Simon was not even at the usual retirement age when he wrote and released this song. Not very close to death, with the lifespan expectations of today.

Another reason is that Simon used the word "quiet"... and not "silence." We all know Simon's feelings on silence-- the complete absence of all sound-- and he knows that we know that this is a loaded word when it comes to his lyrics. So he avoids that word and chooses the less stringent synonym, "quiet."

I believe, therefore, he was not talking about dying. He was talking about easing up, going into retirement or semi-retirement. And he is looking forward to it.

His "restlessness" will be "past" (not "passed"). Evidently, he has been restless his whole life. Why? Well, now he will get to "release [his] fists at last." Are these the fists of fighting? Or of grasping? We shall see.

He is also looking forward to "solitude." After three marriages, several children, a duo partner and dozens of collaborators, plus legions of fans and who knows how many agents and managers, simple alone-ness might seem a blissful refuge. 

Also, he will find "peace without illusions." This can be read two ways. One is that, without illusions, he will find peace. The other is that this will be a real peace, not one dependent on self-delusion.

The next lines, "When the perfect circle marries/ All beginnings and conclusions," admittedly, does ring a bit like a death knell. The end meeting up with the start, forming a perfect circle akin to the one he quotes in "Sparrow"-- "Of dust were ye made/ And dust ye shall be"-- is a funereal image. And it's not about the start and end to a career (as if artists ever end their careers!) but "all" such starts and ends, including birth and death. 

Then come what sounds like the proffer of career advice, "And when they say/ That you're not good enough/ Well, the answer is..." Oh, we know what comes next! The answer is 'of course you are,' or 'I believe in you,' or something of that encouraging nature. 

"...the answer is/ You're not." Well! Thanks for nothing! But Simon is just being honest. It's not even clear if he has ever lived up to his own expectations, or the standards of his heroes. After all, he reads Wallace Stevens and Derek Wolcott! Never mind the opinions of the critics, the public...

Wait! Read the next line. Simon is going after such critics. He is saying: "Well, they say you're not good enough/ But who are they?" [emphasis mine]. Yes, who made them the arbiters of the "good enough," anyway?

Actually, the "but" starts us off on a whole new thought: "But who are they/ Or what is it/ That eats at what you've got?" Again, there are two possible readings. One is to say that, fine, this is the conclusion of that earlier thought. Who are they to "eat at," to gnaw away at, to erode, what you have made?  

Another reading is deeper. "They" only can call into doubt what you yourself doubt. If you were confident that you were good enough, you simply wouldn't care! Of course you are not good enough for them-- no one is. No one can please everyone. 

So "what you've got" is not what you have made. It's the talent you made it with! You can lose what you have made, but you have truly "got" your talent and skill. What is it that tells you that you are a failure, that eats away your confidence in your talent? Something internal. It's not "they"... it's it.

Let's back up. Why does it matter what the critics and public say? Well, if no one buys your album, you'll go broke! In that sense, it matters a great deal! 

Yes, but, Simon explains, using the same "eating" metaphor, "With the hunger of ambition/ For the change inside the purse/ They are handcuffs on your soul, my friend... and worse." If your work is meant only to please the buying public, you cannot produce work that truly expresses what is in your soul.

A brief historical aside captures this insight. Interviews were done with East German artists some months after the Berlin Wall fell. Rather than reveling in their liberty, they complained! Yes, they were no longer forced to conform to the dictates of the communist government censors... but now they were constrained by the tastes of the capitalist art-buying public, which were just as harsh, and even more fickle! 

These artists, who "hungered" for the "purse," found their "souls" in "handcuffs"... and "worse."

Simon began this album explaining that where he "belonged" was "walking down a dirt road/ To a river where the water meets the sky." He closes the record by saying that he is headed for "a place of quiet/ Where the sage and sweetgrass grow/ By a lake of sacred water/ From the mountain's melted snow."

These two images differ in their presence of greenery, and in their general climate; the "spiny little island man" in the first song may never have seen "snow," but "sage and sweetgrass" grow in Montana. 

But in both cases, Simon dreams of being at the water's edge. From the River Styx to the River Jordan to the Rubicon, the idea of the passage over water being a passage of no return is an ancient one. But in neither case does Simon actually mention crossing the water-- no bridge or boat is described. In neither case does he even mention another side of the water.

So again, I do not believe this is a song about death. It is a song about exactly what it says in the title: quiet. Of hushing the voices of "not good enough." He releases his fists, which have been grasping hungrily at success and wealth, and trying to sate an insatiable audience.

And simply by unclenching his fists, he allows these "handcuffs" to slide right off. So farewell to trying to restlessly please people so that they will buy his records. He is 60, and still productive, with nothing left to prove or pay back.

It's a relief, and a release, and he finally feels he has earned the right to chart his own course. Maybe we should not have been surprised that he called his next album... Surprise.

Next Song: How Can You Live in the Northeast?

Dance to a Dream/ Quality

Has Hernandez, The Umbrella Man, become the only influence in Sal's life? What about Bernadette, and his role models for a solid relationship, Carlos and Yolanda? As this song shows, they are both still couples.

The song mostly belongs to Carlos and Yolanda, as they dream of a life together, away from the barrio. We have heard this type of song before in musicals, from Annie's "Easy Street" to Little Shop of Horrors' "Somewhere That's Green."

Here, the "desire" is material, too, at least in part, Yolanda sings: "I have always imagined a better life/ Far from the barrio's gutters/ We could manage a club as a husband and wife... A restaurant, white tablecloths/ And maybe some live Spanish music."

She has also envisioned their home. Together, they could "build a house, paint the shutters... There are lawns and flowers on a Westchester street/ Maples that sound like a river." She clings to this desire like a lifeline: "It's my dream, and I don't want to lose it."

Carlos' "desire" is, originally, less material, and more immediate: "Come on, Yolanda, I just wanna see..." But  of course he wants to provide a good life for her: "A place for our children that's restful and sweet/ I promise you some day, we'll live there."

Young Sal has less mature ways to impress Bernadette: "What you wanna bet/ I can fly like the guys in the comic books?/ You know how magic this cape is." (Ah, so he did acquire the cape... somehow! Later, he mentions a salary, but...). Bernadette is incredulous of the cape's powers, but sure of her feelings for Sal: "I'll bandage your wounds with my kisses."

Both women and Carlos join for the chorus: "You can dance to the dream of a summer's night/ As you drift to the edge of desire/ Guided by love's mysterious light/ Set the stars in heaven on fire." Since before Shakespeare, something about a midsummer night has set lovers to dream.

"Quality" is the sixth track on the soundtrack album. It's a simple 1950's-style pop tune, and it also marks the differences between what the women hope for and what the men (or boys) do.

The women sing: "Are you my beautiful young boy/ Or just another love/ Passing through my life... And maybe one day soon/ Will I be your wife?"

Carlos is not part of this number, but Sal sings lyrics typical of the age... and his own age: "Come on, Baby, let's go downtown/ You sure look good to me... Don't be shy/ Step in the light so I can see... Let's rock some more/ I want to spend my salary... The way you move/ It's got quality." He's so pleased with life, he even sings this about himself, that others see that he has quality.

Adult Salvador steps in at this point, sighing: "Who can stop the setting sun/ Who can raise the dead?/ I feel the shame of what was done/ See how the stain has spread." With one act, which we will soon see, all of Sal's and Bernadette's dreams and desires are rendered meaningless, as are those of his mother and stepfather.

But first, young Sal gets in one more verse of "Quality," just to show, exactly, what he will lose: his youth, his hope, his exuberance, his freedom... maybe not his life, but everything good in it.

Next Song: Manhunt/ Can I Forgive Him?

Train in the Distance

Is it necessary to analyze this song? It's one of the most straightforward of all of Simon's songs, telling the story of a marriage, from its prelude through to its epilogue. The "moral of the story" is even spelled out in the final chorus.

Now, there is a mistake in the lyrics at Simon's website. It says "He was old/she was young." This is wrong. In the song itself, Simon seems to sing: "He was old/ he was young." This, while it seems self-contradictory, is corroborated by two sources. One is the liner notes of the album.

The other is the new book Lyrics: 1964-2011, which I purchased at Paul Simon's concert here in the Chicago area last night. (Now that the book is out, someone at the website should really spend a couple of days doing line-by-line proofreading.)

The difference is enormous. The incorrect version seems a simple statement of fact as to their relative ages. The correct version provides one of the only enigmatic lines of the whole song. "He was old," in years, perhaps-- but in every other way, he was "young." Romantic, impulsive, ambitious...

The story starts with a older man attracted to a younger, married woman (her husband is immaterial to all concerned, dismissed as a mere "someone"). Our hero would "tip his heart" instead of his hand (the term comes from playing cards), meaning that he made his amorous intentions known. But even though she initially "withdrew," she hears the sound of the distant train as much as he does ("everybody" hears, it, after all).

The next steps seem automatic and inevitable: "Eventually" they marry, "sure enough" they have a boy. But even while she was pregnant, "disagreements had begun."

It is not clear when the child is born, relative to their divorce. But divorce they do, although they "they remain in contact." The line "Let us say it’s for the child," implies that this is not the true reason, but one that seems reasonable and acceptable to both and to the families and community involved (is the real reason that they are still somewhat attracted to each other?).

The word "disagreements" comes up again, this time with regard to the "marriage contract," but again more is going on. Certainly lawyers can (although expensively) debate that, professionally and coolly. Their "conversations," meanwhile are "hard and wild" and obviously about things more personal and intimate than just legalities.

Was there something,,, there? Well, "from time to time, he just makes her laugh/ She cooks a meal or two." Here, we have a disagreement, to borrow a word, about lyrics again. The website and album notes say "he makes her laugh," while the song itself and the Lyrics book have it "he just makes her laugh." This is not as crucial an issue as the disputed pronoun above, but it does go to a central theme of the song.

Which is that it had to happen this way, going back to when he "doggedly" hounded and wooed her. This goes through the "eventual" and "sure enough" phases discussed above to how they "just fell apart." And now, he "just makes her laugh." He doesn't seem to mean to, but something he says "just" strikes her as terribly amusing.

The narrative breaks, during the divorce chapter, for the speaker to insert an observation about the characters: "Two disappointed believers/ Two people playing the game." They do believe in love, but are disappointed by marriage. Instead of loving each other and working toward compromises for the advancement of the union, they are "playing" against each other, each trying to win and advance his or her own interests.

The phrase "negotiations and love songs" would become the title of one of Simon's compilations of hits, but here it means that love songs, through which one hopes to win the heart of the other, are often little more then sales pitches, in which the singer hopes to win, period. But while dogs chase cars, what would a dog do with a car if it caught one? What good is winning if, now that you have sealed the deal and gotten married, the game is over? Then the power struggle moves into the marriage itself, with everyone losing.

Why? Why does all of this have to happen, with the forgone nature of one "train" car following the next down a predetermined track?

It is not outside fate exactly, Simon theorizes, but how our brains are wired (or "woven") for ambition and improvement of our situations: "The thought that life could be better/ Is woven indelibly/ Into our hearts/ And our brains."

It's not the song that needs to be explained, after all. It's the people in the story, a tale so lacking in detail that the characters never even get names. We have all heard of some couple that this story, in some form, has happened to. So it is important to ask why such a story is so sadly common.

Still, there is some growth. "The boy and the girl get married," but after they divorce, "the man and the woman remain in contact." They haven't simply grown older, they have grown up.

And, if either one does marry again, it might actually go "better." For her, she left her first marriage for this man. But this time, she leaves her second husband for herself. Certainly, she will have to be mature enough to think of the impact this would have for her child. But if she does marry again, it should be for the right reasons.

Meanwhile, he was old when he started this adventure, and now he is a father. Still, he is "dogged" and "young" in a way, so maybe he will have another shot as well.

Did ambition and competition destroy this marriage, even before it had begun? Yes. Will the same thing happen in the next go-round? Well, as Samuel Johnson explained, "Second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience."

Next Song: Rene And George Magritte with Their Dog After The War

Jonah

It is difficult to divorce this song from the movie One-Trick Pony, as Jonah is the main character of the movie, and the part Simon plays in it.

So maybe we can see why Simon chose his character's name to be Jonah. In the prophet's tale, Jonah is supposed to deliver a prophecy from God to a city, but defiantly sets sail in the opposite direction. God sends a storm over his boat and Jonah explains to the terrified sailors that it's his fault and they should throw him overboard, which they reluctantly do. But how to deliver Jonah to his God-directed destination, that he may in turn deliver his message? God sends a giant "fish" (as the text has it) to swallow him and carry him there in its belly. Jonah is spewed ashore before the city... and delivers the prophecy to its inhabitants as he was supposed to in the first place.

How is Jonah, the character, like Jonah, the reluctant prophet? The song explains, although not right away.

Like "The Road" (the Danny O'Keefe song popularized by Jackson Browne), "On the Road Again" by Willie Nelson," Bob Seger's "Turn the Page," or Simon's own "Homeward Bound," this song is an autobiography of a travelling musician. (For another beautiful example, find Pierce Pettis' "Envelopes of Light," with EWI by Michael Brecker, whom we discussed earlier.) In point of fact, Simon and his Jonah character are both road musicians on never-ending tour.

The opening verse shows an average gig from the musician's viewpoint: Is my guitar in tune? How is the room filling up? Any cute "local girls" around?

Then, this odd line: "Misinformation/ Plays guitar." Does the musician somehow personify misinformation? "Disinformation" would imply willful deceit. But "misinformation" can be unwitting: "I'm sorry I said the movie started at 8:00 and you were late-- it had started at 8:00 last night, when I went myself, so I assumed it would stay the same the following night."

But how does a musician misinform his/her audience? There can be many answers-- for instance, the "truth contained by a lie" idea that fiction writers discuss. The chorus provides another, specific one: that the assertion that Jonah was swallowed by a "whale" has no "truth."

What is the truth? "I know (that) Jonah, he was swallowed by a song."

Jonah the prophet had his ideas about what he was going do with his life... and he was wrong. God had other ideas for him that literally consumed him.

So too, Jonah the film character misses his family (as we will see in the next song) but is compelled to follow his music. He is swallowed by his songs, which carry him in a way he can't control.

Or... isn't he in control? Isn't travelling and singing his choice, when he could take an office job and be home for dinner every night? In the next verse, he admits that he holds his dream of musical success "tightly," and that it keeps him "warm" in the otherwise "cold" world. Somewhat like a gambling addict who feels, again and again, that the next hand will break his losing streak, he feels that "one more year" of honing the songs and performance will result in a "gold," or at very least, a performance worthy of that. And at the end of this year? "One more year" again.

Along this "circuit" of bars and street festivals and such, one runs into the same people over and over-- others chasing their similar dreams of stardom. Obviously, they don't all make it to the Grammys and MTV. So... "Do you wonder where those boys have gone?" What does become of those who don't make the majors?

And, these musician must wonder... "Good Lord-- How do I know if that has happened to me? No, it can't have-- I'm still out here, touring and getting gigs. It'll happen, it'll happen; I just have to keep at it until I get my break."

They get swallowed by the songs as Jonah was by the fish. It must feel that the songs are in control, carrying them around from port to port, from bar to festival, and back around, to deliver their prophecies. And the Jonahs, prophetic or musical, are just along for the ride.


Next Song: God Bless the Absentee