One question often asked of songwriters is: "Where do you get your ideas for songs?"
Sometimes, it is something a child says or does. For instance, one of John Lennon's sons showed him a drawing he'd made of "Lucy in the sky with diamonds."
In the case of this song, Simon was explaining to his son what rhymes are, illustrating by rhyming words with names.
The structure of the song is interesting. It is one side of a conversation, reported by the other person. If the song were the dialogue of a play, the woman would be speaking 90% of the words.
The man has asked her, evidently, for advice. Or, perhaps she asked him what was wrong, and responded to his answer. In any case, he seems to be in a bad relationship and wants out... but is unsure of how to effect an exit.
She reframes his question: "The problem is all inside your head." And her advice bears this out-- all of her proposals involve leaving without a farewell: "Slip out the back... hop on the bus... drop off the key." No talking things to a close, no therapy sessions, not even a note. Just leaving.
It sounds like the other person involved-- the one being left-- deserves no better, or perhaps wants it to be over but is also not able to initiate a breakup. In fact, the one being left might be grateful if he'd simply vanish instead of dragging things out by talking about their feelings. Regardless, the advisor implies that the issue of propriety or sensitivity is all his own: "The problem is all inside your head" [emphasis mine].
What is interesting is that the man would seek the advice of a woman in this case. And one he does not seem to be heading toward. In other words, it does not seems to be the case that he is leaving his relationship to start one with his advisor. She is too offhanded and uninterested.
Further. it is unlikely that this is his therapist, bartender, or co-worker, for at the end of the conversation she kisses him. More likely, is a female friend, perhaps a sister or cousin, who would give him a kiss goodnight.
Again, we might assume the advice "You think too much, man-- just leave," to come from a man. It is surprising that a woman would advise his insensitivity toward another woman, which is what makes me think that she is more familiar with the particulars of his case.
Another interesting thing about the adviser is her sudden change in tone. In the verses, she uses words like "logically," "furthermore," "intrude" and "misconstrued" (an amazing rhyme, incidentally). She uses locutions like "it grieves me so." Then, in the chorus, she switches tone and becomes more colloquial and clipped: "Don't need to discuss much." It is almost as if she is mocking his over-intellectualization of the situation. Her basic message: You're complicating things, dude. Just scram.
For all of her protestations of help, when he asks her straight out, "Would you please explain...?" she shuts him down, with "Why don't we just sleep on it?" Once again, he is trying to analyze something that requires no analysis. If he can't understand "Just slip out the back, Jack," then there is nothing more she is willing to say that night.
After all, even the five of the "50 ways" she lists all amount to the same thing: Just. Leave. Now.
The solution is not always difficult or painful. Sometimes, "the answer is easy."
IMPACT:
Like "Still Crazy," the title of this song has entered the popular lexicon. No doubt part if its popularity can be attributed to Gadd's military-style drumming and the catchy chorus.
The backup singers themselves were sort of a supergroup, consisting of Phoebe Snow (famous for the song "Poetry Man), Valerie Simpson of the duo Ashford and Simpson, and R&B/jazz singer Patti Austin.
The song went to #1 in the US, where it stayed for three weeks, and also topped the charts in Canada. It went to #2 in France, and brushed the top 20 in the UK. The song went gold and remained a top seller for nearly half a year.
The song has been covered by acts as different as The Drifters and Miley Cyrus, and an outfit with no self-esteem issues called G. Love and Special Sauce.
Gadd's militaristic drumbeat opener has been widely sampled by rappers-- twice by Eminem, and also by Tupac, Common, Kool Moe Dee, and even Kid & Play. And also by a band called Pop Will Eat Itself, which is as good a definition as any for what sampling is.
Next Song: Night Game
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
I Do It for Your Love
And so it is that when a person reaches a certain level of success, and perhaps comfort, that historical revisionism sets in. Buffeted by the demands of contracts and deadlines, we daydream back in time to the days when we slept on a used futon, wore the same pants all week while saving quarters for the laundromat, and subsisted on ramen noodles. And, sitting back in our wall-to-wall carpeted living rooms, under the hum of whole-house air conditioning, we sink back in our leather recliners and decide that those were the "good old days."
Here, we find a man musing on his wedding day and early living arrangements with his bride. Aside from the lousy weather, the ceremony was less than romantic, and possibly presided over by a justice rather than a clergyman: "We signed the papers and we drove away." Then their apartment was moldy and leaky. Then they both got sick and, not being able to afford medicine, simply "drank... orange juice," hoping that mega-doses of vitamin C would do the trick.
Even the rug the husband buys for his young wife-- a splurge, no doubt, even if it did come from a thrift store-- turned out to be a less-than-pretty addition to their abode, as they colors ran together before he could get it home. This luckless pair reminds one of the couple in O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi."
And yet there is an affection for this time. Again and again comes the line "I do it for your love." It was OK. The sacrifices were worth it. Instead of saying "one day we'll look back at this and laugh," it seems that they were laughing at the time. Because, despite the lack of physical comforts, there was an emotional comfort. A sense that they as a couple, were building something together. Maybe out of noisy pipes and blurry rugs, but a home.
And then... the breakup. "Love... disappears." Wait, when did that happen? In the space of three lines, the relationship dissolves. What has withstood such an uninspired start and such wretched living conditions succumbs to "the sting of reason." One would think that living in a musky hovel would mean that the couple was dealing with reality and surviving despite it.
But no. The reality they get "stung" by is not physical. It is emotional. While living in a physical netherworld, they were emotionally dwelling in fantasyland. They are two "hemispheres." They can meet, but not merge.
The clue is in the color imagery. From "The leaves that are green turn to brown" to the all-black rainbow of "My Little Town," color has been an important metaphor for Simon, but perhaps never more so than in this song.
Even at the outset, the colors are wrong: "The sky was yellow and the grass was gray." Then, they both tried being the same color... by filling themselves to bursting with "orange." That didn't work.
So then we have "the colors ran/ the orange bled the blue." Now, the colors are intermingled, but in an unappealing way, resulting in what today we might call "co-dependency." Each one is relying on the other for his or her identity... and the "fabric" of their relationship is a mess.
Another interpretation of the rug-color imagery is the colors themselves. Orange is a sunny, hopeful color, while blue is the color of sadness (as in "the blues"). The orange person is making the blue one "bleed," in this case, or perhaps dilute his or her identity and sense of self.
Surely, a sad person would not mind losing his sadness and have it bled off by sunniness? Yet we know from experience that, if someone is baseline serious and somber, having a Pollyanna for a roommate could become oppressive in its own way.
The suddenness of their realization is felt in the word "sting," but also reflected in the abrupt change of imagery from concrete to abstract. Aside from the surreal colors of Nature on their wedding day, the first two verses and the bridge are full of bold, realistic images.
Then comes the last verse, with its abstractions ("reason" instead of "pipes" and "papers"), synecdoches ("tears" for "sadness"), and metaphors ("hemispheres" for "personality types"). Poetically, the frozen "north" is traditionally associated with seriousness and the sunny "south" with passion).
The uncomfortable reality of their "room" made them feel a sense of solidarity, as in the lyric, "You and me against the world." This misery kept them together, but also distracted them the real, tectonic problem of their whole planet. A couple should, after all, share more than a "cold."
So what is the "reason" for the "tears"? To paraphrase: "North is north, and south is south-- and never the twain shall marry."
Well, they might. But they might ultimately regret it and part ways. Still, even this painful parting is done out of care for the other. "I am not right for you," each says, "But, because I care for you, I want you to have the chance to find the one who is. Even leaving you is something I do... for your love."
Musical Notes:
The drums and bass are played, respectively, by Steve Gadd and Tony Levin. These long-time Simon backers are among the best studio musicians in the business. Gadd has extensively studied African rhythms, so he is a great match for Simon. He also has a series of instructional videos and now leads his own supergroup, the Gaddabouts, which features Simon's current wife, Edie Brickell.
Tony Levin is an influential bassman altogether, but perhaps is best known in musical circles for his virtuosity on an electronic bass-range instrument called the Chapman Stick; he is one of the few bassmen to lead his own band, called simply the Tony Levin Band.
I mention these names because, as a teen, I read all of the liner notes to the albums I liked after I finished reading the lyrics. I soon found that, for albums in the 1970s anyway, the same "usual suspects" kept coming up as backing musicians. Read the bios of men like Gadd, Levin, Danny Kortchmar, Larry Knetchel, Russ Kunkel, Danny Federici, and Waddy Wachtel, and you'll see how "solo" stars like Jackson Browne, Paul McCartney, James Taylor, Elton John, Dan Fogelberg, Linda Ronstadt and dozens more all used the same expert craftsmen on the road and in the studio.
There is a category in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for "Sidemen," and all of these guys belong in it. They-- and a few dozen others-- were in a loose outfit called The Wrecking Crew, and now they have their own documentary, at least.
David Sanborn, who has worked routinely with Simon, covered the song.
Next Song: 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
Here, we find a man musing on his wedding day and early living arrangements with his bride. Aside from the lousy weather, the ceremony was less than romantic, and possibly presided over by a justice rather than a clergyman: "We signed the papers and we drove away." Then their apartment was moldy and leaky. Then they both got sick and, not being able to afford medicine, simply "drank... orange juice," hoping that mega-doses of vitamin C would do the trick.
Even the rug the husband buys for his young wife-- a splurge, no doubt, even if it did come from a thrift store-- turned out to be a less-than-pretty addition to their abode, as they colors ran together before he could get it home. This luckless pair reminds one of the couple in O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi."
And yet there is an affection for this time. Again and again comes the line "I do it for your love." It was OK. The sacrifices were worth it. Instead of saying "one day we'll look back at this and laugh," it seems that they were laughing at the time. Because, despite the lack of physical comforts, there was an emotional comfort. A sense that they as a couple, were building something together. Maybe out of noisy pipes and blurry rugs, but a home.
And then... the breakup. "Love... disappears." Wait, when did that happen? In the space of three lines, the relationship dissolves. What has withstood such an uninspired start and such wretched living conditions succumbs to "the sting of reason." One would think that living in a musky hovel would mean that the couple was dealing with reality and surviving despite it.
But no. The reality they get "stung" by is not physical. It is emotional. While living in a physical netherworld, they were emotionally dwelling in fantasyland. They are two "hemispheres." They can meet, but not merge.
The clue is in the color imagery. From "The leaves that are green turn to brown" to the all-black rainbow of "My Little Town," color has been an important metaphor for Simon, but perhaps never more so than in this song.
Even at the outset, the colors are wrong: "The sky was yellow and the grass was gray." Then, they both tried being the same color... by filling themselves to bursting with "orange." That didn't work.
So then we have "the colors ran/ the orange bled the blue." Now, the colors are intermingled, but in an unappealing way, resulting in what today we might call "co-dependency." Each one is relying on the other for his or her identity... and the "fabric" of their relationship is a mess.
Another interpretation of the rug-color imagery is the colors themselves. Orange is a sunny, hopeful color, while blue is the color of sadness (as in "the blues"). The orange person is making the blue one "bleed," in this case, or perhaps dilute his or her identity and sense of self.
Surely, a sad person would not mind losing his sadness and have it bled off by sunniness? Yet we know from experience that, if someone is baseline serious and somber, having a Pollyanna for a roommate could become oppressive in its own way.
The suddenness of their realization is felt in the word "sting," but also reflected in the abrupt change of imagery from concrete to abstract. Aside from the surreal colors of Nature on their wedding day, the first two verses and the bridge are full of bold, realistic images.
Then comes the last verse, with its abstractions ("reason" instead of "pipes" and "papers"), synecdoches ("tears" for "sadness"), and metaphors ("hemispheres" for "personality types"). Poetically, the frozen "north" is traditionally associated with seriousness and the sunny "south" with passion).
The uncomfortable reality of their "room" made them feel a sense of solidarity, as in the lyric, "You and me against the world." This misery kept them together, but also distracted them the real, tectonic problem of their whole planet. A couple should, after all, share more than a "cold."
So what is the "reason" for the "tears"? To paraphrase: "North is north, and south is south-- and never the twain shall marry."
Well, they might. But they might ultimately regret it and part ways. Still, even this painful parting is done out of care for the other. "I am not right for you," each says, "But, because I care for you, I want you to have the chance to find the one who is. Even leaving you is something I do... for your love."
Musical Notes:
The drums and bass are played, respectively, by Steve Gadd and Tony Levin. These long-time Simon backers are among the best studio musicians in the business. Gadd has extensively studied African rhythms, so he is a great match for Simon. He also has a series of instructional videos and now leads his own supergroup, the Gaddabouts, which features Simon's current wife, Edie Brickell.
Tony Levin is an influential bassman altogether, but perhaps is best known in musical circles for his virtuosity on an electronic bass-range instrument called the Chapman Stick; he is one of the few bassmen to lead his own band, called simply the Tony Levin Band.
I mention these names because, as a teen, I read all of the liner notes to the albums I liked after I finished reading the lyrics. I soon found that, for albums in the 1970s anyway, the same "usual suspects" kept coming up as backing musicians. Read the bios of men like Gadd, Levin, Danny Kortchmar, Larry Knetchel, Russ Kunkel, Danny Federici, and Waddy Wachtel, and you'll see how "solo" stars like Jackson Browne, Paul McCartney, James Taylor, Elton John, Dan Fogelberg, Linda Ronstadt and dozens more all used the same expert craftsmen on the road and in the studio.
There is a category in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for "Sidemen," and all of these guys belong in it. They-- and a few dozen others-- were in a loose outfit called The Wrecking Crew, and now they have their own documentary, at least.
David Sanborn, who has worked routinely with Simon, covered the song.
Next Song: 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
Monday, April 4, 2011
Still Crazy After All These Years
For all of his insistence that he is "crazy," the speaker of the lyric seems less unhinged than simply sad.
The song begins with an incident of his running into his "old lover." While she seems happier than he is for the coincidence, he agrees to join her for a drink and some reminiscence. It seems that the "crazy," here, follows the plural of "we" and "ourselves"-- they are both still crazy.
The next verse is not narrative, but confessional. He admits to to being solitary, unsentimental, and somewhat a stick-in-the-mud. Perhaps not someone you'd invite to a dinner party, but still not "crazy," although now he limits that adjective to himself.
So why, in the bridge, is he awake at 4 a.m.? Especially if he is exhausted ("crapped out," on some TV appearances, has been softened to "tapped out").
He seems trapped between two truths. One is that he wishes for things he does not have; he is "longing [his] life away."
On the other hand, is working to get those things worth the trouble, if "it's all gonna fade," and he's just going to die anyway?
He still can't sleep; perhaps it is the same night he met his old flame, but after he said good night to her at the bar. Perhaps meeting her is, for some reason, keeping him up. He doesn't seem to be missing her; we saw in the first verse that he was over her. Perhaps he wishes that he weren't-- that he cared about something in his life.
(The sax solo here is by Michael Brecker, a phenomenal jazz talent who passed away in 2007. His other work, especially with the haunting Electronic Wind Instrument, is definitely worth finding on YouTube.)
In any case, he is "watch[ing] the cars" by his window. He muses that if he ever did anything violent-- which is hardly likely, as that would require either physical motivation or emotional passion, and he seems to affect neither-- he would not be held responsible for his actions, but found not guilty due to his insanity.
In reality, as upset as he is, all he can do is watch traffic. He hardly seems like the type about which the neighbors say to news crews: "Oh, he was so quiet and he kept to himself."
Rather, he seems lethargic, moody, and just generally miserable. Not even clinically depressed, as that level of any emotion would be too extreme and taxing.
It is interesting to contrast this song with "I Am a Rock," also about a miserable loner, but one who is more adamant about insisting (unconvincingly) that he is not upset, but also that he is never going to allow that possibility because he will avoid relationships altogether, so there.
Our man here is upset, admits it, but just shrugs, "Oh well, so what, who cares."
Maybe in a world in which everyone ambitiously pursues happiness, allowing oneself to be noncommittal, solitary, and pessimistic is "crazy" by default.
People seem to react to this song as if they approve of the sentiment that one can still be as spontaneous and wild in middle age as in one's teen and college years. Upon reading the lyrics, that reaction proves unwarranted-- that sentiment is not really to be found.
For instance, many, upon re-meeting an enthusiastic old lover, would try to capitalize on the the opportunity of that enthusiasm, either for brief physical or longer emotional re-connection. Not our man, who has been down that road before and sees no reason to want to revisit its destination.
Neither is the song a longing look backward, as are Springsteen's "Glory Days" or Mellencamp's "Small Town." Our speaker seems to feel that while things aren't great now, they never were, either (see "My Little Town")-- and there is no real reason to expect they ever will be.
So he will continue to "long" and leave it at that, content with his overcast sadness and unwilling to risk his comfortable malaise for true happiness-- which would also mean the possibility of true misery. Maybe what's "crazy" is that he accepts that in his character, too, and doesn't care to change that-- and even takes some pride in his resistance to change.
IMPACT: This was a major hit for Simon. Simon won a Grammy for his vocals on the track, and the whole shebang won Album of the Year.
The album went to #1 in the States, #6 in the UK, and even cracked the Top Ten in Norway and Sweden. In a famous bit on a Saturday Night Live Thanksgiving show, Simon performed the song wearing a turkey costume.
The song and its title have become an idiom, part of common parlance; I saw an ad for a furniture store once that said it was "Still Sale Crazy After All These Years." That the song still elicited such recognition decades after its release is at least as much a compliment as a Grammy.
The song was sampled on a track called "Ninna Nanna" by an Italian band called Colle Der Fomento, and was covered by Karen Carpenter and Willie Nelson, among others.
Next Song: I Do It For Your Love
The song begins with an incident of his running into his "old lover." While she seems happier than he is for the coincidence, he agrees to join her for a drink and some reminiscence. It seems that the "crazy," here, follows the plural of "we" and "ourselves"-- they are both still crazy.
The next verse is not narrative, but confessional. He admits to to being solitary, unsentimental, and somewhat a stick-in-the-mud. Perhaps not someone you'd invite to a dinner party, but still not "crazy," although now he limits that adjective to himself.
So why, in the bridge, is he awake at 4 a.m.? Especially if he is exhausted ("crapped out," on some TV appearances, has been softened to "tapped out").
He seems trapped between two truths. One is that he wishes for things he does not have; he is "longing [his] life away."
On the other hand, is working to get those things worth the trouble, if "it's all gonna fade," and he's just going to die anyway?
He still can't sleep; perhaps it is the same night he met his old flame, but after he said good night to her at the bar. Perhaps meeting her is, for some reason, keeping him up. He doesn't seem to be missing her; we saw in the first verse that he was over her. Perhaps he wishes that he weren't-- that he cared about something in his life.
(The sax solo here is by Michael Brecker, a phenomenal jazz talent who passed away in 2007. His other work, especially with the haunting Electronic Wind Instrument, is definitely worth finding on YouTube.)
In any case, he is "watch[ing] the cars" by his window. He muses that if he ever did anything violent-- which is hardly likely, as that would require either physical motivation or emotional passion, and he seems to affect neither-- he would not be held responsible for his actions, but found not guilty due to his insanity.
In reality, as upset as he is, all he can do is watch traffic. He hardly seems like the type about which the neighbors say to news crews: "Oh, he was so quiet and he kept to himself."
Rather, he seems lethargic, moody, and just generally miserable. Not even clinically depressed, as that level of any emotion would be too extreme and taxing.
It is interesting to contrast this song with "I Am a Rock," also about a miserable loner, but one who is more adamant about insisting (unconvincingly) that he is not upset, but also that he is never going to allow that possibility because he will avoid relationships altogether, so there.
Our man here is upset, admits it, but just shrugs, "Oh well, so what, who cares."
Maybe in a world in which everyone ambitiously pursues happiness, allowing oneself to be noncommittal, solitary, and pessimistic is "crazy" by default.
People seem to react to this song as if they approve of the sentiment that one can still be as spontaneous and wild in middle age as in one's teen and college years. Upon reading the lyrics, that reaction proves unwarranted-- that sentiment is not really to be found.
For instance, many, upon re-meeting an enthusiastic old lover, would try to capitalize on the the opportunity of that enthusiasm, either for brief physical or longer emotional re-connection. Not our man, who has been down that road before and sees no reason to want to revisit its destination.
Neither is the song a longing look backward, as are Springsteen's "Glory Days" or Mellencamp's "Small Town." Our speaker seems to feel that while things aren't great now, they never were, either (see "My Little Town")-- and there is no real reason to expect they ever will be.
So he will continue to "long" and leave it at that, content with his overcast sadness and unwilling to risk his comfortable malaise for true happiness-- which would also mean the possibility of true misery. Maybe what's "crazy" is that he accepts that in his character, too, and doesn't care to change that-- and even takes some pride in his resistance to change.
IMPACT: This was a major hit for Simon. Simon won a Grammy for his vocals on the track, and the whole shebang won Album of the Year.
The album went to #1 in the States, #6 in the UK, and even cracked the Top Ten in Norway and Sweden. In a famous bit on a Saturday Night Live Thanksgiving show, Simon performed the song wearing a turkey costume.
The song and its title have become an idiom, part of common parlance; I saw an ad for a furniture store once that said it was "Still Sale Crazy After All These Years." That the song still elicited such recognition decades after its release is at least as much a compliment as a Grammy.
The song was sampled on a track called "Ninna Nanna" by an Italian band called Colle Der Fomento, and was covered by Karen Carpenter and Willie Nelson, among others.
Next Song: I Do It For Your Love
Monday, March 28, 2011
Loves Me Like a Rock
There is an album of Bob Dylan songs called Saved, and it is a series of his religious songs, done gospel style. Why there is no equivalent Paul Simon compilation is a mystery.
Certainly, he has enough material. "Bridge Over Troubled Water" has been performed by many gospel groups, and was so recently on TV's Glee. "Gone At Last," "A Church is Burning," "He Was My Brother," "Mother and Child Reunion," "Mrs. Robinson," "One Man's Ceiling," "Slip Slidin'," all are either gospel or could easily be arranged in that style...even his brand-new "Getting Ready for Christmas Day" is based on an African-American sermon.
But the one that is the most gospel-inflected is this one right here. On the original album, Simon is backed by The Dixie Hummingbirds. In other performances, he is backed by The Jesse Dixon Singers. Both groups have performed it at their own concerts, without Simon. There is also a great, semi-a capella version by members of the O'Jays that was part of the movie The Fighting Temptations; the clip is on YouTube. As is the clip of Stevie Wonder performing it at a Simon tribute.
It is fair to say that this song is one of the few written in the latter half of the 20th Century that has been accepted into the gospel repertoire... of those songs not written with that intent.
The song itself is very straight-forward. The verses take us through the speaker's life, and even imagine the unlikely event of his ascending to the US presidency. In each case, he is tempted by the Devil (or his stand-in, Congress). In each case, he is able to rebuff the Devil's temptations by knowing he is secure in his mother's love.
In the first verse, he is the picture of childhood innocence and reverence. He is "consecrated" and sings in Church.
Even in adulthood, he is happily married-- sex is not a sin but a "consummation." The line "I can snatch a little purity" might mean that even when he is, um, consummating with his wife, he remembers that this is a sacred act and not just physical pleasure. (If the word "snatch" had the same 'entendre' meaning in the '70s as it does today, this is a very sneaky, ribald pun by Simon.)
The last scene imagines the president at the "podium" before Congress, which generally happens only during the State of the Union Address. Even in this case, the speaker would still say "Who do you think you're fooling?" if he were tempted to do the wrong thing by this powerful group.
All because of his mother's love... which he says is an eternal and immutable as God's, since God is called "The Rock of Ages." (The original Hebrew word "olamim" translates variously as "eternities," "infinities," "worlds" or "universes"-- That God is "tzur olamim" means that God is the constant, steadfast "rock" on all the eternal, infinite planes of existence.)
This is a finite song, but one that has brought infinite joy to millions. And it's certainly the most exuberant Mother's Day card ever written.
IMPACT:
The song went to #2 in the US, and stayed in the Top 40 for three and a half months. It charted in many other English-speaking countries: the UK, Canada, and Australia. And also in The Netherlands!
The Hummingbirds' own version made the R&B chart and snatched them a little... Grammy. Jazz favorite Ramsey Lewis and pops composer Peter Nero covered it, too.
Next Song: Still Crazy After All These Years
Certainly, he has enough material. "Bridge Over Troubled Water" has been performed by many gospel groups, and was so recently on TV's Glee. "Gone At Last," "A Church is Burning," "He Was My Brother," "Mother and Child Reunion," "Mrs. Robinson," "One Man's Ceiling," "Slip Slidin'," all are either gospel or could easily be arranged in that style...even his brand-new "Getting Ready for Christmas Day" is based on an African-American sermon.
But the one that is the most gospel-inflected is this one right here. On the original album, Simon is backed by The Dixie Hummingbirds. In other performances, he is backed by The Jesse Dixon Singers. Both groups have performed it at their own concerts, without Simon. There is also a great, semi-a capella version by members of the O'Jays that was part of the movie The Fighting Temptations; the clip is on YouTube. As is the clip of Stevie Wonder performing it at a Simon tribute.
It is fair to say that this song is one of the few written in the latter half of the 20th Century that has been accepted into the gospel repertoire... of those songs not written with that intent.
The song itself is very straight-forward. The verses take us through the speaker's life, and even imagine the unlikely event of his ascending to the US presidency. In each case, he is tempted by the Devil (or his stand-in, Congress). In each case, he is able to rebuff the Devil's temptations by knowing he is secure in his mother's love.
In the first verse, he is the picture of childhood innocence and reverence. He is "consecrated" and sings in Church.
Even in adulthood, he is happily married-- sex is not a sin but a "consummation." The line "I can snatch a little purity" might mean that even when he is, um, consummating with his wife, he remembers that this is a sacred act and not just physical pleasure. (If the word "snatch" had the same 'entendre' meaning in the '70s as it does today, this is a very sneaky, ribald pun by Simon.)
The last scene imagines the president at the "podium" before Congress, which generally happens only during the State of the Union Address. Even in this case, the speaker would still say "Who do you think you're fooling?" if he were tempted to do the wrong thing by this powerful group.
All because of his mother's love... which he says is an eternal and immutable as God's, since God is called "The Rock of Ages." (The original Hebrew word "olamim" translates variously as "eternities," "infinities," "worlds" or "universes"-- That God is "tzur olamim" means that God is the constant, steadfast "rock" on all the eternal, infinite planes of existence.)
This is a finite song, but one that has brought infinite joy to millions. And it's certainly the most exuberant Mother's Day card ever written.
IMPACT:
The song went to #2 in the US, and stayed in the Top 40 for three and a half months. It charted in many other English-speaking countries: the UK, Canada, and Australia. And also in The Netherlands!
The Hummingbirds' own version made the R&B chart and snatched them a little... Grammy. Jazz favorite Ramsey Lewis and pops composer Peter Nero covered it, too.
Next Song: Still Crazy After All These Years
Monday, March 21, 2011
St. Judy's Comet
Comets tend to be named for the astronomers who discover them. And one does not think of saints-- religious figures-- as being interested in the science of astronomy. In fact, history is full of antagonism between religious authorities and astronomers.
Yet, comets have been whizzing by for all of recorded history. So they must have been of interest for astrologers. The movement of heavenly bodies-- especially one as dramatic as a comet-- has always been taken as a "sign" for one historical event or another, and one could see how a comet could have been taken as the portent of a miracle performed by a saint and so named for her. Yet, every time I looked for a comet connected with a Saint Judy, or even a St. Judy to begin with, I came up empty.
The closest I can come is St. Jude, and since this song is to a child, one can imagine the child misreading "Jude" by pronouncing the silent "e," resulting in "Judee," which an adult would then spell "Judy."
This album came out in 1973, the year a Comet Kohoutek swung by Earth. It was all over the news and, while it underperformed in astonomer's terms, still was visible without a telescope and captured the public's awe. It spawned dozens of tributes in song as well, by artists as divergent as Kraftwerk and Burl Ives.
So I will hazard a guess that Simon wanted his son to see this astronomic wonder: "I long to see St. Judy's comet sparkle in your eyes when you awake." And it is Simon singing this lullabye: "If I can't sing my boy to sleep, it makes your famous daddy (i.e., Simon himself) look so dumb."
We can picture the father and son watching the comet "roll" by, and noting its tail, the "spray of diamonds in its wake." Then, even though the son was excited by the sight and wanted to discuss it, "the hour of his bedtime [had] long been passed." We can further picture the mother explaining to the father that, since he had riled the child up, he could now be the one to calm him down and tuck him in, explaining that now that the comet had passed, all that was left "flashing" in the night sky were the "fireflies."
The mixed messages given the child of "run come see" and "lay your body down," which alternate, indicate the conflicting tugs all parents feel. We want our children to see the parades, the fireworks, the sunsets, and the once-in-a-lifetime events like comets and eclipses. Yet, we also know that children need their bedtimes and routines... and sleep.
The song is a very touching, personal moment, and one of the prettiest lullabies by a singer-songwriter (and there are a surprising number; Randy Newman, Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, and Pierce Pettis wrote lullabies, for instance). It's a song style that Simon would not revisit until "Father and Daughter."
Garfunkel recorded an album Songs from a Parent to a Child. Perhaps someday, Simon will release an album of his kid-friendly material. If so, this song is a shoo-in.
Yet, comets have been whizzing by for all of recorded history. So they must have been of interest for astrologers. The movement of heavenly bodies-- especially one as dramatic as a comet-- has always been taken as a "sign" for one historical event or another, and one could see how a comet could have been taken as the portent of a miracle performed by a saint and so named for her. Yet, every time I looked for a comet connected with a Saint Judy, or even a St. Judy to begin with, I came up empty.
The closest I can come is St. Jude, and since this song is to a child, one can imagine the child misreading "Jude" by pronouncing the silent "e," resulting in "Judee," which an adult would then spell "Judy."
This album came out in 1973, the year a Comet Kohoutek swung by Earth. It was all over the news and, while it underperformed in astonomer's terms, still was visible without a telescope and captured the public's awe. It spawned dozens of tributes in song as well, by artists as divergent as Kraftwerk and Burl Ives.
So I will hazard a guess that Simon wanted his son to see this astronomic wonder: "I long to see St. Judy's comet sparkle in your eyes when you awake." And it is Simon singing this lullabye: "If I can't sing my boy to sleep, it makes your famous daddy (i.e., Simon himself) look so dumb."
We can picture the father and son watching the comet "roll" by, and noting its tail, the "spray of diamonds in its wake." Then, even though the son was excited by the sight and wanted to discuss it, "the hour of his bedtime [had] long been passed." We can further picture the mother explaining to the father that, since he had riled the child up, he could now be the one to calm him down and tuck him in, explaining that now that the comet had passed, all that was left "flashing" in the night sky were the "fireflies."
The mixed messages given the child of "run come see" and "lay your body down," which alternate, indicate the conflicting tugs all parents feel. We want our children to see the parades, the fireworks, the sunsets, and the once-in-a-lifetime events like comets and eclipses. Yet, we also know that children need their bedtimes and routines... and sleep.
The song is a very touching, personal moment, and one of the prettiest lullabies by a singer-songwriter (and there are a surprising number; Randy Newman, Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, and Pierce Pettis wrote lullabies, for instance). It's a song style that Simon would not revisit until "Father and Daughter."
Garfunkel recorded an album Songs from a Parent to a Child. Perhaps someday, Simon will release an album of his kid-friendly material. If so, this song is a shoo-in.
For now, it's on Kenny Loggins' classic children's album Return to Pooh Corner.
Next Song: Loves Me Like a Rock
Next Song: Loves Me Like a Rock
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Learn How to Fall
Another advice-giving song, this time on the value of making mistakes.
A new book, Better by Mistake, references a still earlier one, Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me). And then there is The Blessing of the Skinned Knee. All discuss the value and methods of learning from one's mistakes. But Simon's song is earlier than them all, by decades.
In the first verse, the speaker urges the listener to learn how to lose with grace, and to "fall" while minimizing injury.
In the second, he encourages serendipity. The only book of mine I wore out as a child was called Little Bunny Follows His Nose, in which the title rabbit did just that, wandering over a meadow, chasing various scents as they wafted by. The metaphor here, however, is sailing. The word "occupation" is used, almost ironically, as that word is generally used to mean a "job," usually a structured endeavor. Here, it simply means "an activity one is doing."
All along, the guitar is tripping along amiably. The breezy ease of the song once again recalls "Cloudy" and "Feelin' Groovy." Someone who says "you got to drift in the breeze" would also agree that "you got to make the morning last" and observe that "[the clouds] don't know where they're going, and... neither do I."
Then comes the chorus, with its scolding horns. Seeming to shift voice, the speaker stridently and cynically excoriates all of humanity, for all its history. Why? They pursue "glory" and don't stop to see the long view, or their effect on the world.
This speaker seems to contradict the first. After all, if you "stop and scrutinize the plan"-- a studious and focused pursuit-- how can you also "drift in the breeze," and amble about, following your nose?
Perhaps the "scrutinizing" does not have to be done pondering books in a library or listening to a lecture. It can be done sitting on bus-stop bench, watching people... or lying on a beach or under a tree, thinking about all one has learned about history and psychology both from school and living life. Certainly, that is a form of "drifting" as much as going out on an actual sailboat. We even use the expression, "let your mind wander."
Overall, the song seems to be advice given to a child about to venture off to college, a sung version of "Don't be afraid to drop a class if you're failing it-- you don't have to be great at everything" and "Don't worry about declaring a major until your junior year" or even "If you want to backpack through Europe for a couple of months first, go ahead."
Lastly, a "tank town" is a very small town, whose only seeming use was as a stop for a train to refill its water tanks. Maybe tank towns "tell no lie" because they are too small to keep secrets. And maybe Simon heard the expression "...learn how to fall" in a town like that; it certainly seems like a rather homey, folksy piece of advice.
Oh... and if I have made any mistakes in this entry, I only hope I can learn from them.
Next Song: St. Judy's Comet
A new book, Better by Mistake, references a still earlier one, Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me). And then there is The Blessing of the Skinned Knee. All discuss the value and methods of learning from one's mistakes. But Simon's song is earlier than them all, by decades.
In the first verse, the speaker urges the listener to learn how to lose with grace, and to "fall" while minimizing injury.
In the second, he encourages serendipity. The only book of mine I wore out as a child was called Little Bunny Follows His Nose, in which the title rabbit did just that, wandering over a meadow, chasing various scents as they wafted by. The metaphor here, however, is sailing. The word "occupation" is used, almost ironically, as that word is generally used to mean a "job," usually a structured endeavor. Here, it simply means "an activity one is doing."
All along, the guitar is tripping along amiably. The breezy ease of the song once again recalls "Cloudy" and "Feelin' Groovy." Someone who says "you got to drift in the breeze" would also agree that "you got to make the morning last" and observe that "[the clouds] don't know where they're going, and... neither do I."
Then comes the chorus, with its scolding horns. Seeming to shift voice, the speaker stridently and cynically excoriates all of humanity, for all its history. Why? They pursue "glory" and don't stop to see the long view, or their effect on the world.
This speaker seems to contradict the first. After all, if you "stop and scrutinize the plan"-- a studious and focused pursuit-- how can you also "drift in the breeze," and amble about, following your nose?
Perhaps the "scrutinizing" does not have to be done pondering books in a library or listening to a lecture. It can be done sitting on bus-stop bench, watching people... or lying on a beach or under a tree, thinking about all one has learned about history and psychology both from school and living life. Certainly, that is a form of "drifting" as much as going out on an actual sailboat. We even use the expression, "let your mind wander."
Overall, the song seems to be advice given to a child about to venture off to college, a sung version of "Don't be afraid to drop a class if you're failing it-- you don't have to be great at everything" and "Don't worry about declaring a major until your junior year" or even "If you want to backpack through Europe for a couple of months first, go ahead."
Lastly, a "tank town" is a very small town, whose only seeming use was as a stop for a train to refill its water tanks. Maybe tank towns "tell no lie" because they are too small to keep secrets. And maybe Simon heard the expression "...learn how to fall" in a town like that; it certainly seems like a rather homey, folksy piece of advice.
Oh... and if I have made any mistakes in this entry, I only hope I can learn from them.
Next Song: St. Judy's Comet
Monday, March 7, 2011
Was a Sunny Day
This is a seemingly slight song, somewhere between the reveries of "Cloudy" and the nonchalance of "Feelin' Groovy."
But there is a bit of history in the song, and trouble in the paradise it loosely describes.
"Sunny" was spun off of a song called "Lover Lover, Come Back," in which Simon was working with some Caribbean tropes. "Lover Lover" eventually became (what else?) "Mother and Child Reunion," and the leftover verses became "Was a Sunny Day," likewise an island-inflected tune.
The line "not a negative word was heard" seems to borrow both syntax and sense from the famous cowboy song "Home on the Range," where "seldom is heard/a discouraging word."
Newport News is a real town, in Virginia, and there is a Navy port there.
But our man Earl? Well, a band called The Cadillacs had a lead singer named Earl Carroll; his nickname was Speedo. In 1955, they recorded their biggest hit, "Speedo": "Well now, they often call me Speedo/ But my real name is Mr. Earl." (Speedo swimwear, incidentally, dates as far back as 1927!)
Our Earl exclusively dates a "girl" named Lorelei (her fidelity is not described). Her name is that of a mythical mermaid whose siren song leads men to their watery graves. The only other thing we know about her is that she peaked in high school, where she was a "queen," possibly of the prom or homecoming. Since her life is all downhill from here, she has "nothing, really, left to lose." And so, nothing to live for.
He is a sailor; she, a mermaid. She is going down, and it seems she is going to drag him down to the depths of her eventual depression with her.
But why dwell on that? Right now, it's "sunny" and cloudless, with Nature's "birdies" and mankind's "radio" singing in harmony.
The song is important, to the degree that it is, for its music more than its lyrics. It pulls from the 1950s rock that Simon loves, and yet it is another successful foray into the Caribbean songs that entrance him.
An autobiographical reading of the song might be: Simon, as the stolid Navy man, his transistor radio still plugged into the crew-cut sound of the past. The island music is the siren, the seductress that pulls him astray... but what a way to go.
(From a sheer quality standpoint, there is an exponential growth from the lumbering "Why Don't You Write Me" to the breezy "Was a Sunny Day"... and in just three years.)
Musical Note: The backing vocals are by sisters Maggie and Terre Roche. With the addition of another sister, Suzzy, they soon became The Roches, an excellent and quirky vocal ensemble; Simon produced their debut album. The song was covered by many other acts, including Rosemary Clooney!
Next song: Learn How to Fall
But there is a bit of history in the song, and trouble in the paradise it loosely describes.
"Sunny" was spun off of a song called "Lover Lover, Come Back," in which Simon was working with some Caribbean tropes. "Lover Lover" eventually became (what else?) "Mother and Child Reunion," and the leftover verses became "Was a Sunny Day," likewise an island-inflected tune.
The line "not a negative word was heard" seems to borrow both syntax and sense from the famous cowboy song "Home on the Range," where "seldom is heard/a discouraging word."
Newport News is a real town, in Virginia, and there is a Navy port there.
But our man Earl? Well, a band called The Cadillacs had a lead singer named Earl Carroll; his nickname was Speedo. In 1955, they recorded their biggest hit, "Speedo": "Well now, they often call me Speedo/ But my real name is Mr. Earl." (Speedo swimwear, incidentally, dates as far back as 1927!)
Our Earl exclusively dates a "girl" named Lorelei (her fidelity is not described). Her name is that of a mythical mermaid whose siren song leads men to their watery graves. The only other thing we know about her is that she peaked in high school, where she was a "queen," possibly of the prom or homecoming. Since her life is all downhill from here, she has "nothing, really, left to lose." And so, nothing to live for.
He is a sailor; she, a mermaid. She is going down, and it seems she is going to drag him down to the depths of her eventual depression with her.
But why dwell on that? Right now, it's "sunny" and cloudless, with Nature's "birdies" and mankind's "radio" singing in harmony.
The song is important, to the degree that it is, for its music more than its lyrics. It pulls from the 1950s rock that Simon loves, and yet it is another successful foray into the Caribbean songs that entrance him.
An autobiographical reading of the song might be: Simon, as the stolid Navy man, his transistor radio still plugged into the crew-cut sound of the past. The island music is the siren, the seductress that pulls him astray... but what a way to go.
(From a sheer quality standpoint, there is an exponential growth from the lumbering "Why Don't You Write Me" to the breezy "Was a Sunny Day"... and in just three years.)
Musical Note: The backing vocals are by sisters Maggie and Terre Roche. With the addition of another sister, Suzzy, they soon became The Roches, an excellent and quirky vocal ensemble; Simon produced their debut album. The song was covered by many other acts, including Rosemary Clooney!
Next song: Learn How to Fall
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