Note to readers upon the sound of my recent silence

I usually respond to comments on Sunday evenings, but was unable to during the last month as I was recovering from surgery. I am healed now, back on track, and able to respond again on a weekly basis.
Thank you all for your patience and understanding. 
All is groovy,
--Another Paul 

Bad Dream

This song could just as easily have been called "Bad Dream Blues," given the melody.

There are several sorts of bad dreams discussed in the song. After each, a question is asked, prefaced by the words "I'm wondering." 

One sort of bad dream is a nightmare-- you fall asleep, and instead of imagining riding a horse in a field of tulips, you imagine being attacked by a bear in a cave. The speaker imagines all dreams being produced in a "factory," in which the executive decision is made-- will tonight's dream be sweet, or scary?

The first bad dream we encounter is of this type. In the dream, a "giant shadow" is imagined by a child to be enveloping and smothering him to the point of suffocation. Since it was a form of darkness that was the problem, the solution was "the morning sun." 

The dream happened while he was "asleep, but still awake," which could refer to REM sleep. It could also, I guess, refer to "lucid" dreaming; generally, one in this state can direct the course of the dream's narrative, which doesn't happen here, but then this dreamer is a child who may be unaware of that option.

Since the person relating this nightmare is an adult remembering it from his childhood, the question is: "Where is the doorway to yesterday's secrets?" Frustratingly, the adult remembers the dream but not the experience that triggered it. If only he could access those memories, he could finally understand the dream.

Simon co-wrote (and co-sang) this song with Edie Brickell, his wife. She takes a turn, offering, she says, "a woman's perspective." What she says is brief, but powerful, and also remembered from childhood:

Ever since I was a little girl
They all said, "Don't go out alone at night

It's a hungry, dangerous world"

For vulnerable minorities, the world is a "bad dream" even when they are awake. Their nights are filled with waking nightmares of constantly incessant pursuit by the appetites of society. Since this hunger is inescapable and insatiable, the only solution (admittedly not much of one) is to avoid danger as much as possible. 

Her question is: "Where is the shelter for runaway angels?" Pure innocence is, sadly, one of the most attractive targets, but where can true safety be found? It is as elusive as an inaccessible memory.

The final scenario is also brief. A "backwoods" man crashes a rodeo, carrying many bibles, then wailing. This is a "dream," also, but whose? Notably, while the other scenarios were followed by the words "a bad dream," this one is followed by just "It's a dream." Meaning that, for some, this could be a good dream-- someone messianic bringing order (religion) to chaos (a "rodeo"), not someone unwelcome imposing restrictions on revelry. 

Is this a "bad dream"? Depends who you ask. 

This time, the question is "Where is the country I promised my children?" Clearly, Simon is of the camp that sees this "backwoods" character as a wet-blanket killjoy. Simon is, famously, one of the voices of the Civil Rights movement (see "A Church is Burning," "He Was My Brother," "The Sound of Silence," etc.) and this song was written when the US was dealing with the MAGA movement. 

There is a structure here that may seem familiar to Simon's fans; we saw it years ago in the song "Slip Sliding Away." The first verse, there, was about a man, the second about a woman, and the third about a father. (Interestingly, Springsteen's "Glory Days" is the also same, structurally: verses about a man, then a woman, then-- in a "missing" verse-- the speaker's father. The final, familiar, verse is about he speaker himself.)

In this song, we have a man remembering his childhood nightmare, a woman remembering the fear instilled in her as a girl... and then a verse about society at large dealing with a figure who is a harbinger of doom to some, but a herald of salvation to others. 

The three kinds of "bad dreams" delineated are the sleeping kind, the waking kind... and the kind that people will tell you wasn't a nightmare at all. Having your own perceptions questioned, and even suspected, sounds pretty nightmarish, too.

Billy Boy

Hardly a new track, the source I have says it was made "circa 1973," around the time of There Goes Rhymin' Simon. So perhaps the correct term would be "newly unearthed." According to Jay from South Africa, it appeared on YouTube "for the first time ever" in May of 2023. 

Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUhruae-9JE

The real question is... is it even a song? "Billy Boy," more than six minutes of it, seems more of a melody in search of a lyric, which itself seems very much a rough draft. The result is nothing one could be expected to release, except on a compilation of demos and out-takes.

Another question is... what is Simon even singing? Since the vocals seem only to be placeholders for something else, much of the vocals are mumbled and garbled, with only the meter and melody being prioritized.

An early draft of the song "Yesterday," by the Beatles, was called "Scrambled Eggs"; those two utterances share nothing but their meter (a dactyl), but that is all that was required at that point. 

What we have here is even less... a series of cliches that meet the requirements for the meter: "you've been gone so long," "I've been down in the morning," "I've been waiting for the light to come," ... and variations on "sun don't ever shine," made to rhyme with "my heart, my valentine." The rest is-- to me, at least-- unintelligible.

There is no other instrumentation beyond Simon's guitar, but there are backing vocals, a small chorus of women (sounds to me like three). They sing "I believe it, I believe it" over and over. It's a close harmony, presaging the backing vocals on "I Know What I Know." 

As to the likely source of this exercise, "Billy Boy" is the title of an old folk tune, structured as a duet. The song is often used to teach a beginner to play the guitar. 

The song begins with the speaker asking Billy where he has been. He says he found a girl he'd like to marry but, sadly: "She's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother." The first speaker asks several follow-up questions-- but after answering each, Billy adds that same line, resigned to have to wait until she is old enough for courtship. 

Here, Simon seems to be trying to update this folksong. He addresses a "Billy Boy" who has returned, and there seems to be a heartbreak theme-- "valentine" is repeated often. So some of the elements are similar to the old song.

In his time with Garfunkel, Simon explored many earlier folksongs, which resulted in the well-known "Scarborough Fair" but also lesser-known recordings of versions of "Barbara Allen" and others (for a comprehensive list, see the Page on this blog tilted "Songs Mistakenly Attributed to Simon"; the traditional numbers are near the top of the list). 

I have a whole album of rock songs, from "Midnight Special" to "Sloop John B," that were based in old folksongs, collected by Alan Lomax for the Smithsonian Institute's Folkways album series. Many other  songwriters sought similar inspiration in traditional American, British, or other folksongs.

So it is not unlikely that, around the time of his second (post-S&G) solo album, Simon went back to the well of traditional folksong for inspiration, came upon "Billy Boy," and thought, "Let's see what I can do with this."

The answer? Not a whole lot. Oh, well. Failed experiments are necessary, on the road to successful ones.  

This blog aims to be comprehensive, while acknowledging the technical unlikelihood of that result (thence the * in its title). Still, in the name of completeness, I am including it here, on Every Single Paul Simon Song... while also acknowledging that it may not even be, technically, a "song" as such.

Next Song: Bad Dream

Note to readers upon my millionth pageview

I only check my statistics once a week, so I don't know exactly when, earlier this month (January 2024), it happened... but this blog has received its one-millionth pageview.

So I wanted to thank you all, you "viewers" of these "pages." I have received comments from all over the world. I should not be that surprised, since Simon is a globally beloved talent. I was worried that, this being the Internet, the comments would be savage. But I am very pleased to report that Simon's fans are decent, polite, and personable, even when dissenting (if anyone needs proof that you can disagree without being disagreeable, they should read my comment sections!).

Thank you all for reading this blog. Thank you for your lovely compliments, and your lovely corrections and criticisms. Your knowledge, pushbacks, personal anecdotes, and other insights have turned what might have been a lecture into a conversation. I have learned as much as I have shared. 

I had no idea, of course, when I started this blog back in 2001, that this would happen. But I wanted the blog to grow organically. I did no promotion or marketing for it whatsoever-- I didn't even mention it on my own Facebook page. I wanted people to find it when they needed it, when they really wanted to know, about one of these songs, just what Simon was likely getting at. That this happened a million times? I am shocked, but not surprised. 

Like most mad pursuits, I began doing this for myself, to look deeply at Paul Simon's work and see what meanings and messages I could find there. I was certain they were there for the finding. 

And spending an hour listening to a Paul Simon song, reading and re-reading the lyrics, and thinking about them, was certainly a worthwhile-- both relaxing and rewarding-- way to pass a Sunday afternoon.

When I started writing down what (I thought) he meant, I often found myself correcting and editing myself. "What is this song about? What does it mean? What is it trying to say?" was followed by "Ah!" and then "No...." and then, "Oh, wait!" and then "Hmmm..." and so on.

I knew that this meaning could be anything from "I have begun to doubt all that I once held as true," to "the thought that 'life could be better' is woven into our hearts," to "have a good time." And I knew it wasn't usually spoon-fed like that! But I also knew that if I really looked, there would be something substantial there.

My fantasy was that, once I had created this template, others would follow the example, and start 'every-single-song blogs' about their own favorite songwriters. I can admit now that this had a semi-selfish motive-- I was hoping someone would give this treatment to Sting or Springsteen or one of my other favorite songwriters, so I could read that blog. If this has happened, no one had thought to tell me about it... ahem...

In writing my other blogs, I have experienced what most bloggers do-- not much. Writing on the Internet is like whispering into the Grand Canyon-- you might not even hear your own echo. 

But this-- my first!-- blog seems to have resonated, and for that, I am grateful.

I know that, for too many artists, the accolades come too late, and are only flowers laid at a gravesite. How heartening to know that this is not true for Simon, and that he can see and hear the adulation he so deeply deserves while he is on this side of the grass, as they say. I would like to count this blog alongside, if far below, his other honors.

I have no idea if Simon knows this blog exists, but I hope he does. Naturally, I hope he likes it-- but even if he thinks my takes on his songs are way off base, he should be heartened by its readers. Gratified to know that people care this much about his work. That they think his work is lasting and substantive, able to withstand deep analysis-- and worthy of analyzing. That it resonates with listeners' minds and their hearts, both. 

So, thank you, readers of this blog. Just so you know, Simon has said that he is working on more material. So keep checking back! When he does release it, I will add it as soon as I can. After all, 1 million is just a number-- not a place to stop, but something to wave at as we "scoot down the road."

Wait

This one, sadly, is not too hard to understand.

Simon is in his 80s. Many of those who began in music when he did are gone, and very many far before an age the average life expectancy statistics would have predicted. 

Further, many his age-- and some even younger-- have had to stop performing or recording because of some illness. 

Simon himself, in interviews for the Seven Psalms album, said that he lost the hearing in his left ear over the course of recording it, and can no longer perform onstage, at least not with a band. 

Nevertheless, he can still write, compose, and record; as he says in this song: "My hand's steady/ My mind is still clear." 

And, like Beethoven, he can still hear music in his mind, and synthesize new music from it. "I hear the ghost songs I own," he sings. Does he mean songs he owns the copyrights to, because he wrote them? Or the songs he owns recordings of? Likely the latter, given what he says next.

What is "ghostly" about them? They are probably not about ghosts, like "ghost stories" told around campfires. Are they by people who are gone? Are they songs that are simply unheard these days? Are they songs that people have heard of, but would not really be able to sing if you asked them to? 

He also says these songs are "jumpin', jivin', and moanin'," which makes me think of jazz. So it's possible that the songs are ghosts because the memory of them has faded. 

Then he seems to turn away from whomever (or Whomever) he is asking to wait, and-- for the chorus-- to turn toward his listener, to offer some advice and observations. First, he compares life to a "meteor," falling fast and burning brightly, a brief flash.  

He urges us to "let [our] eyes roam," and explore as a wanderer would. This could have gone the other way-- life being short, one might just as easily be advised to focus on a single goal and not get distracted. But Simon advises, "Go on, get distracted. There's a lot to see." 

Then comes one of his most poignant lines: "Heaven is beautiful/ It's almost like home." The key word here is "almost." Even Heaven itself cannot match the pleasures of home. Nevertheless. he urges-- now adopting a gospel verbiage-- "Children! Get ready!/ It's time to come home." 

A line ago, Heaven was not quite home. Now, it is "home." Well, it's going to be, so we might as well start calling it that now.

Last, Simon lays out two requests for how he wants to "transition" to... whatever is next. His first is that he wishes for a "dreamless transition." Most want to pass away while sleeping, but Simon is afraid of his dreams and what lurks in his subconscious mind. So he asks for a dreamless sleep, so he won't have to, in his final moments, be troubled by his "dark intuition."

This whole album, he has struggled with the idea of God and Heaven. He wants to believe because he craves the comfort he expects that will give him. But he also is a cynic and has a hard time believing. What if, at the last second, he has... doubt?

So for his second request, he asks for help. For someone to help him take that step across the final threshold. Now, he turns away from us and from God-- to his wife, Edie, to whom he has been married for 30 years now: "I need you here by my side/ My beautiful mystery guide." (It could also mean an angel, or that he is calling her one.)

The chorus repeats but this time, and we expect to hear, again (the word is repeated 4 times so far), "Wait."

Instead, we hear-- and this is the last word on the album-- "Amen." Of course. 

These were not songs, they were Psalms all along. They were prayers. And what do you say when a prayer is finished? "Amen."

The word's derivation is Hebrew, from a root meaning "faith." After a hearing a prayer, the listener replies, basically: "Faith." We have faith that the prayer just offered will be heard and received and accepted. 

Poet Dylan Thomas told us to "rage against the dying of a light." Simon is not raging, here. He is not begging or even bargaining. 

But he is asking. With calm dignity, he is praying for death to wait.

He is not ready to go-- and we are not ready for him to go, either.

May his prayer be granted. Amen.

Next Song: Billy Boy

Personal apology to recent commenter

This is what you get for working on your blog when it's past your bedtime... Someone posted a comment in early July 2023 (before the 8th, when I am writing this). The "post" and "delete" icons, however, are right next to each other in the admin interface. And guess which one I clicked. Before I even got a chance to read the whole thing. Which, from the few words I did read, seems very nice and complimentary, at that.

Even better, Blogger allows you to retrieve deleted spam, because who doesn't love to enjoy spam out of the trash... but it does NOT allow you to retrieve deleted comments, even though I could think of a thousand reasons why it should, starting with: 1) every e-mail system allows you to retrieve deleted e-mails, 2) you might need them for legal reasons, like to prove harassment or slander, 3) the "post" and "delete" icons are, in case I neglected to mention, RIGHT next to each other, 4) you can retrieve deleted spam that you know you will never want, but not comments that you might reconsider needing...? Are you kidding?

Anyway, this is headlined "apology" so let me actually apologize. I'm sorry. I got excited, my mouse finger slipped, and *poof* your comment went to Internet Hell. I can blame everyone one else but I am the only one sitting at this desk. As the I.T. types put it, this is a PEBCAC situation: Problem Exists Between Computer And Chair. Mea maxima culpa.

If you are the one who send the comment, please resend it. I will CAREFULLY post it this time, I promise. And please repeat your compliment, even though I clearly do not deserve it at this point.

The Sacred Harp

This song, or Psalm, is both the only one in this collection with a recognizable narrative, if a brief one, and a cast of characters. It also the only one I see that directly refers to the idea of, or the creation of, the Psalms the collection itself is named for. 

Aptly enough, the song is introduced with the words "a change of mood."

Only, within the song, this refers to a change in the weather. This sudden downpour is inconveniencing to those riding a truck through it, but much more so to the hitchhikers they pick up-- a mother and a son.

Reluctantly, the truck driver and his significant other offer them a ride "as a highway courtesy." They admit they are not going that much further today, but will arrive at a place their passengers can find a room out of the rain.

The mother replies, her accent in "a blend of regional perfumes" (when Simon is on, he is on). Rather than saying where they are headed, she says: "We have no destination/ The moon and the stars/ Provide us with our homes."

As so we meet more of Simon's aimless wanderers. We have encountered them in "Me and Julio" ("Well, I'm on my way/ Don't know where I'm going") and "America" ("Walked off to look for America") and "Duncan" and "Cloudy" ("Hitchhike a hundred miles/ I'm a ragamuffin child") and "The Coast" and "Homeward Bound" and "The Boxer"...and that's just off the top of my head. I bet I could find a dozen more if I went song-by-song through his entire catalog, from "Somewhere They Can't Find Me" to "That's Where I Belong."

You could probably get at least a Master's Thesis out of an examination of the trope of the "wanderer" in Simon's songs, but they probably all trace back to the life of a musician constantly on tour. Although in Simon's case, he sometimes is busy chasing a sound from South Africa to Brazil, happy to follow where it leads. 

Back to the song at hand. The woman says they are not going toward anyplace as much as away from one. She calls she and her son "refugees" from her hometown, explaining: "They don't like different there," to the degree that she feared for their lives. By "different," she means her son, who has stopped speaking-- except "to the voices in his head." The son nods in agreement.

Then there is another "change of mood." For the next verse and a half, the speaker speaks of King David's "sacred harp" (finally paying off the title), saying, "We long to hear those strings... the ringing strings/ The thought that God turns music into bliss." 

Yes, the simple reading is "Ah! The very thought-- God turns music into bliss!" But I prefer to read it: "The thought that God [uses to] turn music into bliss." 

Because now it makes sense, at least to me, to bring up the whole David-and-Psalms business suddenly, in this story about picking up hitchhikers. I feel that Simon is saying that the voices in this boy's head are like the ones that inspired David to pick up his harp and write the Psalms.

The latter Psalms are hymns, written by David to be performed as worship in the Holy Temple (which God told him he would no longer build after his sin with Bathsheba. David instead used his remaining days to prepare the materials-- both solid and intangible-- his son Solomon would need to build and operate the Temple). 

But the early Psalms? Many were desperate pleas by young David for God to save him from the wrath of King Saul, who had been told by the prophet Samuel that David-- not Saul's own son Jonathan-- would succeed him as king. Saul's response was to bring the full force of the royal army down on the head of this shepherd boy, the very one who sang him out of his own melancholies. 

These early Psalms were the songs of, well, a refugee. And, like all songs, they were the manifestations of an internal voice the writer heard.

And now, here, in our speaker's own truck, was such another soul. Also hounded from his home for the crime of being "different." If only people would listen to the thoughts this boy had, instead of using them against him...

The last two lines of the song are even more enigmatic. Evidently, their truck is now... home? "We left the pick-up in the driveway." The only places that have driveways you can leave a vehicle in are private houses (a hotel or condo would have a parking lot or garage). They are either back home, or at the house they were headed toward. So what's the problem? They went to a house. 

But a house would be in a residential area like a neighborhood or suburb, not a place where homeless hitchhikers would likely find "a place to stay" as promised. So did they drop them off at a shelter...?

In any case, they had guessed that by the time they dropped them off, the rain would have dissipated into mere mist. At that, they guessed right. Because now the riders disembark from the truck to regard the moon "in the mist." 

The other of the last two lines is: "The moon appeared as amber." Amber, of all the gemstones, is the one that has organic origins. It is the fossilized sap of dinosaur-era trees. Its source was something alive, and we can hold it now, millions of years later. 

The encounter with the woman and her withdrawn child have had an impact on them, so they can't sleep even after their long journey. Instead, they look up at the Moon, knowing that, like amber, it was there in the time of David. 

Maybe someday, this boy will be able to write down what he hears in his mind, and instead of being feared as a pariah, he will be revered as a poet. 

People yearn to hear a sacred harp, so why do they never know one when they do hear one?

(Note: This is a very different use of the Biblical David than what Leonard Cohen had in his song "Hallelujah.")

Next Song: Wait

Trail of Volcanoes

The Jonny Cash song "Ring of Fire" was not the first incident of that expression, It was initially used, as early as 1906, to describe the somewhat circular series of volcanoes that dot the shores which ring the Pacific Ocean.

A different trail of "volcanoes" is meant here, though.

The opening verse-- of just four-- refers to carrying one's guitar "down to the crossroads." In the lore of the blues, this is where one meets the Devil, to sell one's soul to him in exchange for talent and success in a Faustian bargain. This is how Robert's Johnson's seemingly miraculous mastery of the blues guitar in a mere three years was explained; Johnson died at 27, making him one of the earliest members of the grim "27 Club." 

The list of musical references to crossroads is as long as the Devil's tail, and includes the title of Eric Clapton's box set; every act from Cream to Rush to Lynyrd Skynyrd to Dylan has covered Robert Johnson's "Cross Road Blues."

Simon says he carried his guitar "down to the crossroads," but then, "over the sea." This is likely a reference to his first trip to England and the beginnings of his folk music career... but also to everywhere in the world he has toured and recorded, from South Africa to Brazil.

We know this because the next verse is global in its scope: "Now, those old roads/ Are a trail of volcanoes."

Except they do not erupt with lava. These are "explosions" of "refugees." A rundown of sources of refugees as of this 2023 writing: Syria and Afghanistan in the Middle East, Ukraine in Europe, South Sudan in Africa, Myanmar in Asia, and Venezuela in South America. Pretty much every continent.

But, in a larger sense, Simon says, aren't we all refugees? Wasn't he one, sort of, when he left his declining pop music career in the US for a folk music career "over the sea" to the UK? 

Lastly, he speaks of volcanoes, refugee crises, and his own life, saddled with two kinds of regret at once. One, that he did so much "damage" at all. And, two, that now there isn't enough time to sweep up the ashes, reassemble the scattered communities, or make "amends" for all the eruptions he has caused.

Maybe he was a refugee of a kind, but what kind of refugee crises did he cause? Whose lives did he uproot, whom did he make to flee in panic? And, realizing now that he may have done so, there is not even time enough left to apologize, repent, heal, or make reparations. After all, this year he will turn 82 in the fall. 

Next Song: The Sacred Harp

Your Forgiveness

The first four verses of this song end with the words "Your forgiveness," meaning God's. And we know it is a capital Y-Your not because it starts a new line but because of the fourth verse and what comes after.

But let's deal with the verses in order. "Yesterday's boy is gone" means someone was a boy yesterday, but not today. Where did he go? "Driving through darkness." The idea that God's forgiveness is to be found by driving aimlessly along nighttime roads is harrowing, but it seems like that used to be the process.

Next, music was tried, but it was a song that was born out of "sorrow." If there was a loss to be mourned, a common reaction is to think, "It must have been a Divine punishment. I must ask God's forgiveness." A beautiful song often comes out of this impulse.

Maybe there is a formula? A "homeless soul" tries to use a computer, a "digital mind," to crack the code.

Then it turns personal... but first, we have to pause to have a lesson in Jewish thought and practice.

The last prayer of the Yom Kippur service imagines that the gates of Heaven are closing and that this is one's last chance to atone while the prayers still have Day of Atonement status (The name of this lyrical service is "Ne'ilah," meaning "locking"). The prayers have been in the plural for most of the service but now, at their end, many synagogues have a practice of the congregants lining up in the aisle, each taking a turn to approach the Ark (an ornate cabinet where the Torah scrolls are displayed) for their own personal atonements and prayers.

"And I, the last in line/ Hoping the gates won't be closed/ Before your forgiveness."

Wait. The Y is lowercase. So this was just a use of Day of Atonement imagery for a case of human-to human forgiveness. Well, people still close their gates and lock them, denying the opportunity for forgiveness. 

Then the song stops this thread... and turns to water imagery: "Dip your hand in heaven's waters" and "All of life's abundance in a drop of condensation."  And it is amazing to think that all of the life forms we know, and are likely to know for a while, are on this ball of, mostly, water. In cosmic terms? Earth isn't even the largest planet in our own solar system. 

The line "two billion heartbeats and out" refers to the fact that a human life of 70 years, at the rate at which a human heart beats on average, includes 2 billion heartbeats. So, that many, and then death. (Simon is 81. He has a pretty strong heart.) 

And then "A white light eases the pain." Likely, this refers to the idea that when someone dies, they see a bright, white light and a rush of serenity; many having "near-death experiences" report experiencing these sensations, brought about-- science maintains-- by certain happenings in the brain and its parts as it dies. Steve Jobs' last words were a repeated: "Oh, wow!" 

Further, what does "heaven's water" mean? Rain? Clouds? Can you "dip" your hand in these? And is everything just "God's imagination"?

But the real question is... how is this one song? The first half is about seeking God's forgiveness. But the second half wavers between on the one hand, the smallness of Earth and its human next to the eternality of God... and on the other, defiance of all that.

"I have my reason to doubt/ There is a case to be made," and "Waving the flag in the last parade" are words of defiance. "Two billion heartbeats and out"? Is that all there is? Is that all a human is? Is death the end or "does it all begin again?" This is some real "Rage against the dying of a light" material. 

In the end though, even this defiance is swallowed by the vastness of infinity. The "Dip your hand..." line is repeated seven times. "God's imagination" three times. The line "All of life's abundance..." is also repeated three times, and it's how the song ends. 

In the first song, it's: "Man plans, and God laughs." In the third, "Man opines, and God sighs." And here, in the fourth song: "Man rails, and God forgives." 

Next Song: Trail of Volcanoes

My Professional Opinion

Did you ever realize that our opinions are only worth half as much as we think they are? After all, when I offer you my opinion, I say, "Well, here're my two cents."

But when someone asks for my opinion, they say, "Penny for your thoughts."

You think your opinion is worth two cents. They would only pay, however, one cent. Half as much.

In interviews about the Seven Psalms album, Simon explains that he was routinely awakened by dreams, very early in the morning, with inspirations for these songs. 

So when he writes, here, "Looks like you haven't slept all night," he may be talking to himself, or at least about himself. There has got to be a mixed feeling for an artist, on the one hand being grateful for inspirations... and on the other wishing they waited until he'd had his morning coffee instead of rousing him when only crickets, owls, and bats are awake. 

Which could be the source of his name "Mr. Indignation."

In any case, he is in his 80s and does not work a job where he has to punch a clock, so for him to "go back to bed" as the song suggests, after jotting his "vampire hour" inspirations is just fine.

If the speaker feels that the person he is addressing is "Mr. Indignation," he admits "I'm no more satisfied than you are." He also admits that he does not have a solution that would resolve the given indignities, as he is not a "doctor" or a "preacher" and doesn't even have a "guiding star"-- say, a Scripture or philosophy-- that might suggest a solution.

On the other hand... what is there to be indignant about? "Indignation" comes from the same root as "dignity," and no one has any dignity to begin with, really: "Everyone's naked, there's nothing to hide." (This echoes Simon's observation in the song "Old" from You're the One: "Take your clothes off-- Adam and Eve.")

The next verse also has a reference to religion. In an echo of the spiritual "Down by the Riverside,"-- "Gonna lay down my sword and shield/ Down by the riverside"-- he writes, "Gonna carry my grievances down to the shore/ Wash them away in the tumbling tide."

There you go-- no more indignities! The idea that immersion in water provides rebirth is held by many of the world's faiths. Physical cleansing can become spiritually cleansing. 

So far, the title line, "in my professional opinion" is said twice. Once, it's to say, "You're exhausted because you are exhausting yourself." The second, it's to say, "You have troubles? So does everyone." 

Now, we the opinion offered that all cows must bear the blame for one specific cow insulting another. This seems... sarcastic. I suppose the point may be that even cows must suffer indignation.

But also, what is this guy's profession, that these are his "professional opinions"? It seems that the profession is, itself, the offering of opinions. If one spends any time on the Internet, one realizes that this may be the most popular profession today.

In the next verse, Simon synopsizes the situation: "So all rise to the occasion/ Or all sink into despair." Better than "all" would be "each," as each of us must rise and address our own indignities-- either by confronting them or "washing [them] away." But "each" doesn't sing as well as "all." The other option is to "sink into despair," dragged down by our indignities.

Here, his opinion is simply: "Don't go there." Why raise an issue only to dismiss it? This professional does not seem very good at... whatever their job is. 

The song ends with admission that, yes, our professional opinions are worth about one cent, even if we are professionals at offering them. Because ultimately, only God's opinion matters.

But it would take another whole blogpost to unpack the last verse. It says that God did three things to us with "His opinions": "He became us/ Anointed us and gamed us."

How did God "become" us? In the sense that God became human in the form of Jesus? In the sense that He made us "in God's image"? Wouldn't that be us becoming Him?

Kings, priests, prophets, and the messiah are, in the Bible, anointed. So which does Simon mean we are, when God anointed us? Or are some of us kings, some prophets, and so on? 

Most unnerving is the idea that God "gamed" us, conned us. How? And why would He want to do that? What would be the fun for an omniscient being to trick a mere human-- who after tens of thousands of years of getting rained on can only say, "There is a 40% chance of rain tomorrow"?

Lastly, what is the whole concept of God having opinions? Isn't God all-powerful, too? Doesn't God's thinking something make it, you know, not opinion but fact?

In my professional opinion, whatever the specifics of Simon's meaning, his general thread is the same as in his earlier song "The Lord": "Man plans, and God laughs." Only here, it's more "Humans opine, and God sighs." 

Next Song: Your Forgiveness

Love Is Like a Braid

The problem with a famous person quoting a less famous person is that, when you look up the source of the quote, you can only find the famous person having said it... not the person they quoted.

So when Simon writes: "Love is like a braid, some say," I cannot find, now, who that "some" is. Every reference to the expression I see online is a reference to this selfsame song. 

And I can see how relationships are like braids, in that they are interwoven-- the same person may be a parent, a child, a spouse, a friend... their one life interwoven with many others. Even the connection between computers is called the Internet or the World-Wide Web. 

But even one love, one relationship, has many layers of want, need, interdependency, trust, vulnerability, and so on, all interwoven. So in that sense, love can be plaited and braid-like.

This braid is then ornamented, he suggests, like hair can be-- with cowrie shells (those small shells that are also used to make a gourd rattle called a "shekere") and jade combs. That one is typically African and the other Asian is the point; our culture, whatever it is, "decorates" our relationships, beyond its own characteristics.

The song takes a turn here to focus on the story of one life. "I lived a life of pleasant sorrows," sounds like an oxymoron, but it is just a set-up. These sorrows may be pleasant in that they are the downsides of a generally positive thing, like the mixed feelings of pride, hope, fear, and loss experienced when a child leaves for college or gets married.

They are a set-up, though, for "the real deal," which "broke him like a twig." Biographically, I do not know what sorrow this refers to, but it was significant, even life-defining; depending on its outcome, either "all is lost, or all is well."

It involved a period of uncertainty: "A jury sat deliberating." This could be a real courtroom jury or any group of a decision-making people, such as a cadre of doctors discussing a patient's treatment options. 

This period was marked by both "prayer" and "reason," and that resonates. In times like these, we try to face facts, but we also hope to bend fate in our own favor.

The next verse holds some clues as to the event in question. The "real deal" may very well have been an illness or death of a parent. Coming "home," he is "shocked" to find: "I'm a child again, entwined in your love." You think you are an adult. You even have your own children. And then, when you lose a parent, you remember being their child, and for a while you are one again.

Simon's father and mother passed away in 1995 and 2007, respectively. But in approaching his own death, he undoubtedly thought back to theirs. 

And... there is our metaphor again. We began with the image of a "braid." We seemed to have dropped it for two verses. But no, that was just to get us to here, where we find it again, in the word "entwined." 

The word "doorstep" may be significant; the only other songs I know of to use the word are ones of hope. One is is "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley. In it, three birds come to his doorstep to sing "Don't worry about a thing/ Every little thing/ Is going to be all right." Such assurance might be welcome in a sad hour like this.

The other is "The Sunny Side of the Street," which urges: "leave your worries on your doorstep/ Just direct your feet/ To the sunny side of the street." 

The speaker now presents another dichotomy. We have had "pleasant sorrows," "prayer [active] and waiting [passive]," "doubt and reason," "all is lost [or] well."

But in each of those pairs, one is good and one is bad. Remembering the parent? All was good. Either he was in the parent's "light" or their "cool summer shade." In this case, the opposite of "light" is not an ominous "shadow," or a hopeless "darkness," but their protective "shade."

I once interviewed a rising singer whose father was a very famous singer himself. I asked if she felt she was performing in his shadow. "No," she replied, "in his light."

The song ends with yet another good/bad dichotomy: "The garden keeps the rose and thorn." Life has both good and bad in it, he decides, but there are choices. And, even if you chose wrong and picked a thorn,  "what's left is/ Mending what was torn."

Life has both pleasantness and sorrow, both roses and thorns. So does love. 

And maybe those are what is braided; maybe that is how love is like a braid. It contains both the good and bad in ourselves, in those we have relationships with, and of the relationships themselves. 

You may love someone without loving everything about them. Maybe they snore, or lack punctuality, or have a morbid sense of humor. But you're not perfect, either... and they love you anyway, also. 

You may love someone, but not love the idea of losing them. But you love them anyway. 

The thing about braids, though? They are much, much stronger than individual strings. Which is kind of what you would want, and hope, from something like love. 

Next Song: My Professional Opinion

The Lord

In his first original song on the first Simon & Garfunkel album-- "Bleecker Street"-- Simon refers to the many Psalms that use the imagery of sheep-herding. The "fog," he wrote, "hides the Shepherd from his sheep."

But here, the sheep are abandoning the Shepherd: "Noon and night they leave the flock."

Simon has been writing religious songs, or at least songs that reference religion, all his career, but lately they have been appearing with more frequency.

"The Lord" starts with a reference to, we think, the "Great Migration." a demographic and geographic shift in US history (roughly 1910-70) involving the migration of Blacks from the rural South to the industrial North.

But he does not capitalize the term, so it is another kind of "great migration" that he means. And if it is a religious-- or anti-religious-- one it is not a migration toward somewhere like an Eden or Promised Land, necessarily. It could be to either soft, inviting "meadow grass" or uninviting "jagged rock."

This is what happens when you leave the flock. You gain free will, but the outcome becomes uncertain.

What happens if you stay? The outcome is certain, but you lose free will: "The Lord is my engineer... the earth I ride on." This can be the engineer who steers the train, the electrical engineer who wires the system... or the engineer in the music-studio control room (later, we have "The Lord is my record producer") who determines what the song ends up sounding like, since they control how the sound is recorded and manipulated.

"The Lord... is the path I slip and I slide on," Simon writes, referencing his earlier song "Slip-Slidin' Away." He likely means us to recall its final verse: "God only knows/ God makes His plan/ The information is unavailable to the mortal man/ We... believe we're gliding down the highway/ When in fact, we're slip-slidin' away." 

Yes, he has been wrestling with the free will/determinism issue for decades. 

In the next verse, he sings of astronomical things: comets, stars, night, moons, daylight, and sunset that "now turned the evening rose." Astronomy-- and its earlier form, astrology-- impress upon us that Nature/Fate is the clockmaker, and we are but cogs in the machine.

"The Lord is the face in the atmosphere," he tells us. God is the order and system in the seeming chaos, and the way we, well, interface with it. 

Then he turns to sociological phenomena: tribes, age, "celebrations," songs-- concluding, "the endless river flows." Even if we say, "it's not nature, it's nurture" is that not still a form of determinism? Whether God or society shapes our fate, the end is the same: our fate is shaped for us.

The chorus returns but a new one is added, and now plant imagery is introduced, and a new role for God. The Lord. we are told, is both the forest and the forest "ranger" (personally, I find this a rather forced rhyme with "stranger," but let's work with what we have). More plant imagery arrives soon...

But now we have The Lord as a philanthropist as well. He is a "meal for the... poor," and a "welcome door to the stranger" as well as the one who protects forests from pollution and fires. God takes care of those who cannot care for themselves-- and, in a snide jab at the rest of humanity-- who are also not cared for by those who can afford to do so. 

Aside from forests, we are now shown "flowers" and "seeds." "Tears and flowers/ Dry over time," and what seem important now is not, in the Grand Scheme. "Memory leaves us/ Melody and rhyme," and this has been shown to be true-- those with Alzheimer's, for instance, will remember songs when they have forgotten much else. So are melodies and rhymes but dried-up tears and flowers? 

The plants don't only die, though... they live anew in "seeds": "The seeds we gather/ from the gardener's [or should that be capital-G "Gardener's"] glove/ Live forever. So, songs made by humans are dried flowers in a scrapbook, but things made by God are eternal.

Then comes the last chorus of the song, which blames God for both plague and climate change, and quotes "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." In that hymn, God "loose[s] the fateful lightning/ of His terrible, swift sword." Here, the Lord is the sword! 

In the free will/fate debate, it seems that fate wins, because it is true whether you believe it or not, whether you try to subvert it or not. "The Lord is... a simple truth surviving."

Is... is that the simple truth?

Too soon to tell-- it's not really the last part of the song. The song picks up again after the album's third song... with no new text, ending again with the same verse. 

But then, the continues again after the sixth song. And this time, there is more, new text. And this time, the Lord is less threatening than plagues and natural disasters: "The Lord is a puff of smoke... my personal joke... my reflection." God now, is reduced to... one's thoughts of God. 

Then, at nearly the last second, a third possibility occurs to our thinker: Not us deciding what happens, or God doing so, but random chance! "Are we just trial and error/ One of a billion in the universe?" This thought, however, is waved away. 

And we are right back to "The Lord is my engineer... my record producer."

But now, that fate is at least personal: "The Lord is the music that I hear." This whole time, you have to wonder how such a successful person as Simon could say that everything in his life was predetermined. He's probably been wondering that, himself.

So this is what he lands on. He has, his whole life, followed the music he heard. It has led him around the world. But now he wonders what power presented him with that music, which seemed to materialize just as he was ready to, or needed to, hear it. "The Lord is the music that I hear."

Up to now, this repeated line has been "The Lord is the earth I ride on." Now, after the Lord's being referred to again as an "engineer" in the music studio sense just 5 lines before, we have: "The Lord is my engineer/ The Lord is the train I ride on." [emphasis mine]. So we do have the other meaning of "engineer" acknowledged-- and the idea now is that once we are aboard the train, the track is laid out for us, and we are not even driving.

Then one last image: "The Lord is the coast, and the coast is clear." Let's forgive the pun for now and recall that one of Simon's relatively recent song is titled "The Coast." It would take another post to fully compare the two songs, but here it's enough to note that in that song, the coast is only described as being "injured." Here, "the coast is clear."

And what is The Lord, in the end? "The path I slip and I slide on." We are on a path, and it will take us where it is going, and any effort on our part to wander off it will result in us slipping and sliding... so why not just submit? Get on the train, and enjoy the ride. 

Next Song: Love is Like a Braid

 

Seven Psalms (album), and its instruments

In May of 2023, Paul Simon released a new album titled Seven Psalms.

Structurally, it takes two forms at once. On the one hand, as the title indicates, there are seven distinct songs here, each with its own title. On the liner notes, they are presented as discreet songs.

However, there is only one track on the album-- and Simon has said it is a suite, meant to be listened to all the way through, all at once, as if it were a piece of classical music.

Further, the first song, "The Lord," is used as a motif, and returns a few times throughout the suite-- sometimes with the same lyrics and sometimes with new ones.

Nevertheless, for the sake of clarity, each song will be dealt with individually, in its own blog post. All verses of "The Lord," even if they appear further along in the suite, will be considered part of that song, for the sake of analyzing its lyrics. 

Next Song: The Lord

MUSICAL NOTES:

Over the course of this blog, when an unfamiliar instrument was employed on a given track, I mentioned it.

Here, however, the liner notes don't specify which track used which instrument, so I will list and explain them now.

The more unfamiliar ones-- and all of these are acoustic-- include:

The gamelan: This is less one instrument than a set of them, from Indonesia, that includes mostly percussion but also some winds and strings.

The gopichand: A one-string instrument from Southeast Asia. It is shaped like a tall isosceles triangle, with a hollow gourd as the base.  

Cloud-chamber bowls: This is an array of large, glass half-bottles, designed by Harry Parch. Both their top halves and inverted bottom halves are arranged on a frame and struck, as with chime-style bells. (The bottles were originally designed for physics experiments involving radiation, in what scientists call "cloud chambers.")

[Note: More about Parch on the Musical Note section of the "Insomniac's Lullaby" entry.]

The Chromelodeon: An adapted reed organ that plays a 43-tone-per-octave scale. Another Parch invention. As the name implies, it is a variation on the melodeon, which is a reed instrument played with keys, that looks like a piano and sounds something like an accordion. 

The hadphoon: A toned percussion instrument made from metal. Sort of a circular marimba, or flat steelpan, it is placed on top a drumhead, and its metal tines (each a different width, and therefore a different tone) are struck.

The hadjira: A large, tambourine-like frame drum.

The gran cassa bass drum: Similar to the largest drum one might see in a marching band.

Almglocken: The liner notes explains these are "Swiss tuned bells." They are metal, with handles on top and no clappers inside. They have been compared to cowbells but are more bell-like in sound; they "dong" rather than "clunk."

The Chalumeau: a Baroque reed instrument considered an early form of the clarinet.

The therobo: This is to the lute what a bass guitar is to a guitar. It has a rounded back and a very long neck. 

Fast Car (Wyclef Jean feat. Paul Simon)

[Note to Readers: This is a 2007 track that was co-written by Simon. With most such collaborations, I assume that Simon is the primary songwriter, and that he has invited others to work on the track with him-- to add their expertise in a particular genre, language, etc. In other words, they are collaborating with him.

With this song-- which appears on Wyclef Jean's album Carnival II: Memoirs of an Immigrant-- the primary songwriter seems, to me, to be the same as its primary singer, Jean. The song is attributed to seven songwriters, including both Simon and Jean; Wikipedia lists Jean first... and Simon fourth. So here, he seems to be collaborating with them.

On the one hand, how much input could one writer have among seven? On the other, if that one is Paul Simon, would the others second-guess or gainsay him? Even so, Simon does not seem to be the type to be an ungracious guest, and would likely allow his host's literary voice to be the most prominent.

When I sub-titled this blog "more or less," I mean that the list of songs discussed would be as comprehensive as possible, knowing that "every single song" was a very intense promise. I did not mean that the songs would be "more or less" his. But here we are, and this song, while certainly weighing in on the "less" side, is a Paul Simon song, and so we're going to discuss it.]

"Fast Car" was already the title of another song; it's the one that put Tracy Chapman on the map back in 1988. It went to #6 and received two Grammy nominations (it lost Song of the Year to "Don't Worry, Be Happy.")

Wyclef's song is full of many other references as well. Even before the song starts, Wyclef mentions "Jersey Boys," the musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. In the first line, he mentions Kanye West's song "Jesus Walks" from 2004. He then compares Kanye's being revived after being in a coma-- after his 2002 car accident-- to Jesus' rising from the dead.

This introduces the image of a "fast car," as in the one whose crash Kanye survived.

In the next verse, Wyclef mentions two movies starring Will Smith--  Wild Wild West (itself a reimagining of a TV show from the 1960s) and Bad Boys. Smith, now best known as an actor, began as a rapper. While Smith was never in a car crash, all I could find that related was a rumor that he and his son were killed in one... but the rumor emerged in 2019-- more than 10 years after this song was released. 

The line "some mystery, the killer get away," is true in general, but the video explains this is a reference to the still-unsolved murders of The Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur. 

Yes, the line "some of us are outlawed" plays off of the "outlaw" trope from the historic Wild West, but also acknowledges that much hip-hop music is censored or even banned, and rappers themselves often run outside the law. 

But we would know that Biggie and Tupac were meant anyway... since "Outlawz" is the name of a hip-hop group of which Shakur was a member... while "Bad Boy" is also the name of a record label (founded by Sean Combs) for which Biggie recorded. 

In the Chapman song, the "fast car" is an escape from poverty to a more comfortable life. Here, it seems that any life-- even that of a superstar millionaire-- sometimes needs escaping from: "Livin' this isn't the end of the day... jump in the fast car."

The next line seems to substantiate this, with a sentiment that goes back at least as far as the Beatles saying "money can't but me love." Here, this thought is expressed: "You don't gotta be no billionaire/ To get a ticket up to the Moon.... I'm right here." The idea of billionaires with tickets to the Moon likely refers to Elon Musk's Space X project, selling flights to outer space and someday the Moon.

Then we get another musical reference: "see clearly now." This line clearly evokes the big hit of reggae singer Johnny Nash (who passed away in 2020), with its famous line: "I can see clearly now, the rain has gone."

The next verse puns the word "shots" meaning both "shots of alcohol" and "gunshots." The scenario framed is driving home after a "bachelor party" having had more than "51 shots." This high of a number of gunshots, however, likely refers to the death of Amadou Diallo." In 1999, he tried to enter is own home but was falsely seen as trying to break in. When he reached for his wallet to prove he was, in fact, at his own house, the police assumed he was reaching for a gun, and shot at him 41 times. That Jean adds 10 to that number may mean that Diallo was just one of many such victims of police... zeal. 

The case is seen as emblematic of the idea that black men are always suspect, even when innocent. The story is also told by Springsteen in his song "American Skin (41 Shots)."

And what kind of car was the partier about to drive? A "fast one."

[Note: An astute reader has informed me that another case of a police shooting, involving 51 bullets, was in fact the one Jean was likely referring to, instead. The victim was named Sean Bell, and the incident happened in 2006, just a year before this song dropped; Bell was in his car. The details are in the comments below. But wow... how sad that there are so many such stories that we can actually get them confused with each other...]

It is at this point that Simon begins to sing. He sings this bridge twice in the course of the song. Now, the "fast car" does not seem to be a means of escape at all, but the vehicle of the Angel of Death (compare this with Emily Dickinson imagining Death picking her up in his "carriage" in her Poem 479). 

Here, Simon sings: "When that fast car picks you up/ You will have no choice... You will weep and smile." And where is the car heading? "You will... see Heaven in the headlights." 

The next two verses confirm this. The lines about "TLC" and "Honduras" tell us that that the verse is about Lisa Lopes, a member of the R&B group TLC, who was killed, while doing charity work in Honduras, in a car accident.

The last verse is also about a car-accident victim, this time a 16-year-old who was killed crossing the street by a drunk driver in a "hit-and-run." This may refer to a famous case as well, but one I am at this point unfamiliar with.

So... putting this all together? Kanye was almost killed in a car crash, but Lisa "Left-Eye" Lopes was.
While neither Biggie or 2Pac were killed in car crashes, cars were involved, as they were killed in drive-by shootings. Amadou Diallo was killed by police shooting from behind their (parked) cars, but he was on his front porch. 

Maybe the message is that one should not put one's faith in a car to provide an escape. Cars-- and other material trappings of success-- can kill as surely as they can transport one safely. 

Instead, one should depend on God, and on people: "You don't gotta be no billionaire/ To get a ticket up to the Moon/ We all know Somebody up there" and "You need a helping hand?/ Look, I'm right here."

Next: Seven Psalms

In the Blue Light (album)

The new/altered lyrics (to previously released songs, listed below) that Simon added/changed for the In the Blue Light album, released on September 7, 2018, are discussed in the posts for those songs.

The songs on In the Blue Light-- all of which have new lyrics which significantly alter their meanings (except as noted)-- are:
 1. "One Man’s Ceiling Is Another Man’s Floor" (no lyric changes)
 2. "Love"

 3. "Can’t Run But"

 4. "How The Heart Approaches What It Yearns"

 5. "Pigs, Sheep and Wolves" (changes are cosmetic)

 6. "René and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War" (just two words changed)

 7. "The Teacher"

 8. "Darling Lorraine" (one minor change)

 9. "Some Folks’ Lives Roll Easy"

 10. "Questions For The Angels" (very small changes)

They originally appeared on these albums:

There Goes Rhymin’ Simon (1973)

Still Crazy After All These Years (1975)

One-Trick Pony (1980)

Hearts and Bones (1983)

The Rhythm of The Saints (1990)

You’re The One (2000)

So Beautiful Or So What (2011)

Stranger

While being touted as a "new Paul Simon song," this is in fact a remix of "The Werewolf," the opening track to Simon's Stranger to Stranger album; the "new" track also samples "The Clock," an instrumental on this same album.

On this track, according to Spin magazine, Simon is "backed and drastically overhauled by Nico Segal... and Nate Fox of Chance [the Rapper]'s default ensemble, the Social Experiment."

Next Song: Fast Car

Like to Get to Know You

Simon's current marriage to Edie Brickell is his longest by far, of his three. However, the course of true love never does run smooth, and the couple had an argument in 2014 that-- largely due to the fact that they are a celebrity couple-- made headlines. To show the public that they were fine after this bump in the road, they released a duet titled "Like to Get to Know You." (Thanks to my readers for spotting this one!)

This simple, Everly Brothers-style song is about a longtime couple who, despite their years together, seem frustrated that they still don't know each other well. At first, this is a source of frustration-- how can this be? Yet, they re-frame it is a positive: Well, it'll be like a new relationship, then!

"You share my heart/ you share my kids and my dogs," one sings, "But I swear I don't know you at all." They other responds: "You see my face/ Every night, every day/ But I swear you don't see me at all."

Echoing the classic "They Can't Take That Away From Me," with its intimate, personal observations about the way the other wears a hat and holds a knife, they sing: "I know how you like your coffee/ I know how bad you drive."

Meanwhile, they see other couples "in the movie line" or they "check out people in the checkout line." Those other couples seem very comfortable in their intimacy. They are "holding hands and laughing," and "exchanging loving glances." Unlike this couple, who seem estranged.

Still, they "wouldn't trade places" with those couples, even so. Why not? "I'd like to get to know you again."

In the title track to his 2016 album, Stranger to Stranger, Simon wonders if they would have gotten together had they met now: "Stranger to stranger/ If we met for the first time... could you imagine us falling in love again?"

He answered this question, in a way, years before. In 2014, they each said "I don't know you at all," but that they'd "like to get to know" each other now.

What's the difference, really, if the "stranger"-- the person you "don't know at all"-- is someone you meet on the street... or in your own bedroom?

Next Song: Fast Car

Insomniac's Lullaby

The song is about a lullaby, but we have to get to that in a minute. Because the song, while about a lullaby, is itself a prayer.

After all, it starts: "Oh Lord," and anything that starts that way is a prayer. And what is the insomniac's prayer? "Oh Lord, don't keep me up all night."

It'd be a lonesome vigil. The only other one up would be the Moon, what that only has "desolate eyes." And to journey all those "miles [to] the sunrise" with only such "sockets" as "travelling companions" [OK, so that's from "Graceland," but still] would be too much to bear.

But the darkness "invites" a tune. Simon has been personifying Darkness since he called it his "old friend" all those decades ago, and maybe now we finally know why they are so long acquainted. After all, Darkness would be an insomniac's friend, or at least a familiar face. Anyway, the tune the darkness invites seems to be this very tune.

While he is awake, he hears a "siren" sound "in the distance," but instead of being upset by it-- after all, it means someone is in trouble-- he calls it a "song." To let us know he is being facetious, he complains that the sound "rattles the old window frame."

And then, something unexpected happens: "Gradually, angels reveal their existence." So, they were there the whole time, only now they are letting themselves be seen. The fact that he does not elaborate about these divine visitors, as the listener might expect, leads us to believe that the thin wisps of light that must seep into his dark room resemble angels. "There's nothing and no one to blame," he says, worried that we might accuse him of abusing alcohol (etc.), or having a tumor, what with him seeing angels and all. Maybe he could see what was really causing these angelic apparitions if he put on his glasses..? Lack of sleep can cause hallucinations, after all.

Even if this is a prayer, these visions are not angels. If they were, the speaker would not be talking so much about being alone, as he does before when he says the "desolate" Moon is his only companion, and later when he... well, let's get to that part right now.

Now comes the prayer again. This time, the thing he fears is not the daunting distance until dawn but coldness of some sort also lasting a too-long time: "winter that lasts until June." This may be the lack of human companionship... at least the sort that is awake. So again, he's alone, with no angelic company. (Also, Simon just rhymed "Moon" with "tune" and "June" so slyly we didn't notice.)

Now, two choruses and a verse into the song, we finally learn what the Insomniac's Lullaby is. It's a song that turns out to be one word long:

"Sleep."

Well, of course. What else do you need?

The next verse seems to be about death. "They say all roads lead to a river." While I have never heard "they" say any such thing (all roads lead to Rome, I thought) it is true that every major city is built around a river-- every city more than 100 years old, at least. A river was necessary as a source of water, but also transportation of people and goods.

But, "they" supposedly continue, "one day/ The river comes up to your door." Well, there are plenty of places that don't flood, so this must mean something else. What comes to every door? Only, as Franklin said, "death and taxes."

Hearing this axiom, the speaker asks, "How will the builder of bridges deliver us all/ To the faraway shore?" This is less sincere doubt than simple amazement. When watching a magic trick or feat of athletic prowess, we mutter, "How does he do it?" but only rhetorically.

This is a much nicer metaphor for death than some hooded skeleton reaping our souls with a huge blade, isn't it? A walk across a bridge, is all death is. (Or, if you're Jacob or Robert Plant, you may prefer a ladder or stairway.)

In the next iteration of the chorus, the speaker again asks for sleep, but now so that he can avoid having to face "questions [he doesn't] understand" and "wrestle [his] fears." This is completely understandable. Who wants to do that, all night?

"The sound in my ears/ Is the music that's sweeping the land/ The Insomniac's Lullaby." Maybe the "lullaby" is the agglomeration of sounds coming from everyone insomniac's radio and stereo. Or maybe it's his own radio, and he's listening to contemporary pop (on his headset, so as not to wake his wife) for inspiration. After all, a musician likes to stay current.

Finally, he arrives at dawn, the "light from the East." It is "soft as a rose," and that color, too. "As if all is forgiven," meaning that the questions and fears of the night are resolved, or at least feel that way.

"Wolves become sheep" at this time. The nocturnal animals, like wolves and burglars, are replaced by pleasanter ones, like sheep and ice-cream truck drivers. Also, the menacing gray clouds of night are supplanted by white, woolly ones.

It might be a reference to his song "Pigs Sheep and Wolves," but more likely it's a circling-back to the "Werewolf" of the opening track.

Alternately, one famous sleep aid is "counting sheep"; the idea of imagining sheep jumping a fence, and counting them doing so, is said to help one drift off. This connection of sheep and sleep is possible because of how the song ends: "We are who we are/ or we're not" but either way, "At least we'll eventually all fall asleep."

Like any good bedtime story, the song-- and the album-- end with a yawn and a "nighty-night."

Is the song about death? Is "we'll all fall asleep" about... the Big Sleep, as it is in Hamlet? I don't think so. There are no insomniacs when it comes to death, no "in-necr-iacs." Some people complain, "I just can't sleep," but no one complains, "I just can't die." So this is about sleep, and to the degree it is about the lack thereof, it is about the resolution of that issue.

It's also a very pretty song.

Simon has recently stated that he is retiring from music. If he is, he has earned it. But I can't imagine he is. Music has been his entire life. Now, he is 75. He just finished working on an album and touring the world in support of it. He's tired, is all, and he's talking like a tired person. Once he has a vacation, I bet we'll get another album-- or two-- out of him yet.

I just think that if he stops making music, he'll die. And he isn't ready to do that yet.


MUSICAL NOTE: Bobby McFerrin does the background vocals. In pop circles, he is considered a one-hit wonder because of the dippy-- but perfectly so-- song "Don't Worry, Be Happy." In jazz circles, he is considered a living legend and one of the greatest vocalists ever to live, able to create whole arrangements with just his voice and body slaps. In classical circles, he is that fun conductor who sings the notes along with the instruments and harmonizes with them. Just go on YouTube, type in his name, and enjoy.

Some of the instruments were invented by a man named Harry Partch, who could hear 43 tones to an octave; most mortals can hear only 12. So had to invent instruments to make those sounds. They have names like: cloud chamber bowls, sonic canons, kithara and the chromelodeon. The original instruments are at Montclair State University, in New Jersey, where the song was recorded. (More in the entry on the Seven Psalms album).

Next Song: Like to Get to Know You

The Riverbank

The widely reported figure of "22 veteran suicides a day" is an overstatement, with regard to young or recent veterans. Among veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars in the early 21st Century, it's about 1 a day. That's still far too many, of course. Each such death sends a shockwave through its community, and this song is the story of one such impact.

But the song takes a moment to reveal its story. It starts with a startling nighttime phone call. The news is sad, and the recipient does not go back to sleep, but prays all night instead.

There was a "price already paid," but now on top of that price comes an awful tax: "A son gone to the grave." Nothing is sadder than outliving one's own children, we are told.

And so there is a memorial service, a "sorrowful parade," to be made to the riverbank.

This son was highly thought of. The high school and police station have shut down for the day so the entire town can attend the service. There is crying and hugging and a choir.

Now we get more information: "Army dude." So, the family lost a son in battle. How terrible-- yet we agree this is noble, and a price both the family and solider were willing to pay.

Except, no. That "price" was already paid. He was gone from his home and family, he was in harm's way, he lost friends to his enemies... he paid his dues.

So, if he didn't die in battle, he died after he came home? Oh, what a horrible irony. It must have been a car crash or something.

No, not that either: "Nowhere to run/ Nowhere to turn to/ He turns to the gun."

It was suicide. Brought on by PTSD, the psychological scars of war or other trauma.

"It's a cross" to bear. It's a "stone," a weight he carried. "It's a fragment of bone," which could be what he saw of a friend, or himself. And he found no one else who could help him carry this weight, or relieve him of it.

The song pivots again to the mourners: "It's a long walk home/ From the riverbank."

And then back to the victim. Surely, we can all understand the veteran's insomnia, his "nightmares" and their incessant reminders that "life is cheap."

We end with the "Army  dude's mama." She is "limp as a rag." Among her thoughts must be: "All these people, mourning now... where were they when my son was hurting?"

She is holding a flag presented to her by the Army, folded neatly into a triangle. She is walking home, past the car "dealerships and farms."

And..."Then a triangle of light/ Kissed the red and blue and white/ Along the riverbank."

What might this be? Lights, from a spotlight down to a laser pointer, are usually round, not triangular. Was this a Heavenly light? Is the triangle a reference to the Trinity? I looked up the expression "triangle of light" but found nothing useful. I admit this image has me stumped. (NOTE: A comment by a reader gave me an idea of what it might be, weeks after I had posted this. It could be the sunlight refracting off the triangular, clear case the folded flag is kept in, once it was removed from the casket and folded. See the comments for a more detailed explanation.)

Whatever it is in specific, it is meant to be a calming, reassuring gesture, judging by the word "kissed." (In "Sound of Silence," Simon writes of eyes being "stabbed by a neon light," quite the opposite effect of light.)

In "Wartime Prayers," Simon discusses the kinds of prayers the mothers of soldiers might make. Surely many pray for their sons to come back, and come back whole if possible. But how many pray that their sons, and now daughters, come back mentally whole?

(This is far from Simon's first song about suicide, but his first in a while. Also it is not the first to use the imagery of a "riverbank;" that was also in the song "Can't Run But.")

How abysmally sad, to have a war kill your son even after he'd survived it. Some kinds of shrapnel just don't show up on any MRI.


Musical Note:
Flamenco music was a major inspiration for Simon on this album, especially the rhythmic stamping and clapping. One of his percussionists, Jamey Haddad, introduced him to a Boston flamenco troupe. They ended up recording the basic rhythm tracks for four of the songs: this one, "The Werewolf," the title track "Stranger to Stranger,"  and the first song to debut from the album, "Wristband."

In fact, the song intentionally uses the same clapping rhythm, and some of the same bass lines, as "Wristband."


Next Song: Insomniac's Lullaby

Proof of Love

This is a deeply spiritual song, even a religious one.

Even though "love" is in the title, this is not romantic love that is being spoken of, asked for "proof" of, but... love itself, as a concept.

"Does love exist?" the speaker asks of God. "Well, then... prove it!"

The first part of a song describes a journey. The speaker has no "guide," but sets out anyway. Oh, and it is late in the day-- or perhaps late in life-- so he wants to set out "before the bells of twilight peal" (those would be the "vespers," for those unfamiliar with Catholic timekeeping; the ones in the morning are "matins," as explained in the nursery rhyme "Frere Jacques.").

We're going to guess the "twilight" reference means speaker is older, as the first line is "Begin again-- no easy trick." So he has begun before, and now has to start all over.

At least the road is easy, a "spiral" downhill path (this could be a reference to "Spiral Highway," an obscure Simon song from his One-Trick Pony film that did not end up on the soundtrack).

But is the road easy? It reminds him of a coiled "serpent." Not only does he not have a "walking stick," he doesn't have any food! Just a "teaspoon of desire for [his] meal." Also, "the road is steep/ The air is thin." It seems less like he's on a hill than a mountain.

So, this is not an easy downhill path. This is more of a "it's all downhill from here" path. In fact the whole "town" is downhill, which implies that others face this same fate.

At this point, our speaker needs a shot of faith. So he prays, crying: "I trade my tears to ask The Lord for proof of love." He's not even sure he believes in God, or if there are only "stars" above him (a far cry from the prayer offered at the end of the song "Duncan"-- which also mentions "stars" and "The Lord," which Simon has begun playing again in concert; in fact, a new recording of it is included on the deluxe version of this very album).

To his own prayer, he says, "Amen." Or it may be others in the town who testify to his prayer.

Then... he seems to receive an answer to his prayer! Only, it does not come from Heaven above but from "inside [his] skin." It is a response of consolation. "Your days won't end with night," it reassures, "Let your body heal its pain."

Another clue. This "road" is the road to recovery, perhaps from an illness or injury. That explains "begin again." In physical therapy, a person may have to re-learn skills mastered as a child, like speaking or walking.

What does the voice recommend as treatment? An injection of Nature, first: "Feel the sun/ Drink the rain." Next, a large dose of faith: "bathe beneath a waterfall of light."

This time, he tearfully prays for proof of love to know "what my dreams are made of" (The original line for Shakespeare's The Tempest is "we are such stuff as dreams are made on.") He wants to know that his dreams are made of something substantial and good, not flimsy and false. If there is love, he can dare to hope.

He has kept walking downward, meantime, and now he can see "the valley below." It is, he sees, "an ocean of debris." Not the answer he was banking on.

OK, time for another prayer. No tears this time. At long last-- does love exist? "Love is all I seek!" he says, and says again. Now, he is out of tears, and out of "words." So he turns to "music" to express himself.

He is exhausted with walking and worry. Spent, he lays down by a "white oak tree." He has had it. He asked for proof of love, and got a treacherous road that led him to a valley full of rubble. He was supposed to find nourishing sunshine and rain, and only has hunger and "pain" and not even enough "air"!

He as much as dares death to come-- "No deadly nightshade, belladonna, dare lay a leaf on me." Nightshade is a poisonous plant; its Latin name is "atropa belladonna."

But the night is "silent." It is "still as prayer." And it's not "dark," either. In fact, "Darkness fills with light/ Love on Earth is everywhere." Beautiful.

But let's unpack it anyway. If he wanted to get underway before "twilight," and that implies that he was old or, as we learn later, near death, if due to not age but ailment... what does "darkness" mean? It means, well, death.

One prayer was answered by a sense of calm, the promise that his days would not end with night, and that he would bathe in a waterfall of light. If this is his death, then that promise comes true. His days don't end with "night" but with "light," and if the light fills the world, it is certainly enough to bathe in.

There is an alternate interpretation I would like to offer, though. It is foreshadowed by the reference to "bells of twilight." It's possible that this song is not just religious-- it's possible to read it so that it is about religion itself.

Some clues: A man is coming down a mountain. He doesn't have his usual "stick" with him. He is talking to God on the way. There is a reference to a "serpent." When he gets to the bottom, the valley, he finds disaster.

Might this be about... Moses? Walking down the mountainside of Sinai? And then coming to the bottom to find a pit of idolatry. (Moses turns his stick, or staff, into a serpent more than once.)

The next clue: "Silent night." Or should we say, "Silent Night." Simon already recorded that carol, so he knows it well, and it's about the birth of Jesus. A "tree" is a common metaphor for the Cross, too. So Moses asks for proof of love, and gets it, in Jesus.

I'm not saying this is what Simon means to say. But it is possible to read this interpretation into the song.

More likely, the song is about someone dying peacefully after suffering from cancer or a stroke or something, after there had been some initial hope of recovery.

We get some information as to the symptoms. Likely there was some blindness involved, requiring a "guide" or "stick" to help him find his way; now, he is supposed to be able to walk without that. He can see again, but has been spending much time in bed, gazing upward at what he hoped was more than just "stars." Also, he has trouble breathing ("the air is thin"), and at the end had trouble speaking ("words desert me").

He decides to try natural remedies ("drink the rain"), like a sunlamp ("a waterfall of light") and to "let [his] body heal" itself. He doesn't want toxic chemotherapy, or some poison that will kill him quicker ("no deadly nightshade"). But all he gets is sicker ("an ocean of debris"). Then he dies, and in death finds peace, and light, and love.

What is our the proof, then, of love? Of all things, it may be death. Dying is terrible-- painful, frightening. It takes you apart, piece by piece. But then you get to die.

And rest. In peace.

(NOTE: It would be interesting to contrast this song with Simon's similarly named "Proof," which contained the repeated lines: "Faith is an island in the setting sun/ Proof is the bottom line for everyone.")


Next Song: The Riverbank