Paul Simon Farewell Concert
Capital One Arena, Washington DC
Friday evening, September 14, 2018
I have been a fan of Paul Simon's catchy melodies and harmonies, and moreover by his creative lyrics, since I was little. I remember being a 4th or 5th grade basketball player and driving around with my parents; if we weren't listening to Z104 we were listening to Oldies 100.3, and Paul Simon's "The sound of silence" or "Mrs. Robinson" would come over the radio (I remember being in the AHC parking lot on the way to a basketball game hearing "Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes," wondering who puts cupcakes in the pantry?!).
In high school it was the community I discovered myself belonging to, Communion and Liberation, that first introduced me to such classics as "Me and Julio down by the schoolyard," "The boxer," "Kodachrome," "Homeward Bound," and others. "Kodachrome" was especially striking: was I actually learning *crap* in high school?!
My first year of college I vividly remember running on the elliptical in the basement of my dorm, with my 4-gig Ipod in my ears, listening to the tunes off of Paul Simon's Africa album, Graceland. They were something else. I felt like the music was running alongside me: Graceland was like being in a car driving with My [nine-year-old] traveling companion through the American countryside toward Graceland: Memphis, Tennessee, and I was running with All around the world, Under African skies. I ran with Diamonds on the souls of my shoes, and Paul Simon made me want to fall in love with a poor boy, empty as a pocket. I tried to imagine some roly-poly little bat-faced girl in a New York alley. These are the days of miracle and wonder...
It's safe to say Paul Simon's music has provided a sort of refrain to the musical meanderings of my life.
Last night I had nose-bleed seats for a concert I am very happy to have attended.
The audience
Paul Simon picked a few notes on his guitar and it evoked a huge memory in everyone, because they recognized them as those creative little ditties which started off some of his most popular songs. He played about three in a row: this was a form of torture because he didn't then play the songs in their entirety! "DO IT!" Someone shouted as a particularly loved song's intro echoed in our ears.
"I love you, Paul!" Someone shouted. Each one of us recognized something of him or herself in Paul Simon. I believe it was something more than a nostalgic memory we wanted evoked in us: we wanted something in the present that reminded us of who we are and what makes us who we are.
At really every concert fans are full of excitement and cheer. At this concert, however, the first thing I noticed while waiting in line was that everyone around me was in their 50s and 60s. I smiled to think I belonged to such a "mature" crowd. I was surprised and grateful to be among a group of fans who were weathered by age and life, most of whom had lived through September 11, the political and international turmoil of the 90s, the Cold War, and even Vietnam. Perhaps there were even some who remembered the Korean War. It was a people marked by a common life because of a common experience. But what united us all most profoundly? It was the music of Paul Simon which evoked in us joy, gratitude, and an appreciation for beauty each one for however many years he or she'd had the privilege of "knowing" him. We were diverse in political positions, race, and age, but the same in what mattered: we loved music that spoke to our hearts and made us smile. And the affection we all had for Paul was undeniable.
When he sang, "But I get no offers...Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue, I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome, I took some comfort there," a man nearby me shouted out "ME TOO. ME TOO, PAUL." Everything human is disclosed and discussed; nothing is taboo for Paul Simon. He sings of our incidents, accidents, allegations, poverty and loneliness, Jesus loving us and diamonds. He was singing something to each one of us.
The man's greatness and humanity
More than even the audience's clear affection for Paul Simon and for all the music with which he had filled the audience members' lives for over 70 years, was the man himself. Paul Simon was 76 during this concert and his guitar-playing and string-picking skills were incredible. I was impressed and glad to hear the music I loved. His voice was his voice, and age had only made him more fully himself. There is something in an older voice that communicates believing in one's words even more than that of a young man's voice. I find this true even if aesthetically one might prefer the richness of a younger voice. Paul Simon believed what he said in "The sound of silence" more yesterday than 54 years ago when if first came out, when he was 22.
Paul Simon spoke with great fondness and respect of his former African guitarist, Vincent Nguini, one with whom he had worked for 30 years and he was a great friend and band member. Nguini died in December 2017. He also spoke affectionately of his new guitarist, a new talent from Nigeria, who he believes may have a sort of spiritual connection to his previous guitarist. "I'm not sure if Biodun influenced Vincent or if Vincent influenced Biodun, but they have a real connection. Biodun has brought so much energy and joy to our band." It was a great moment to see a man both deeply affected by the death of someone he loved, and also able to see something else given to him at a crucial moment: the presence of someone who added a comparable musical talent and a new energy to his band at a particularly needy time.
His stories
Performers do not always speak and engage their crowd, perhaps because they are too embarrassed or because they think their music speaks for itself. Paul Simon spoke with us between his songs because it seemed he simply desired moments of dialogue and kinship with his listeners. To this end Paul punctuated his music with stories: he told us about his personal love-hate relationship with "Bridge over troubled water," because it had been remade so many times that it hardly felt like his anymore. "But," he said, "This IS my farewell tour, so..." to an eruption of applause. Needless to say we were ecstatic when he sang that one!
He told us about how he started playing guitar at age 13. "My father was a musician, and I asked him how to play some of the songs I loved. He explained that these four chords were responsible for so many good songs." He played the chord progression. "So... I just used them and made some myself." Laughs. He proceeded to play the intros to about three of his most well-known songs. "So those are some of my songs, but you already know 'em all so we don't need to hear them!" This was followed by laughs and grumbles of disappointment (fortunately he later went on to play most of his biggest hits)!
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| Photo courtesy of The Music Aficionado. |
Conclusion
Why talk about all these stories? We learned not only that Paul Simon was not just a clever musical composer and lyrical genius whose music has withstood the test of time. And it isn't just that we came away appreciating how his talents have been preserved long into the time most people would have retired. And even though I am most often intrigued by his engaging and unpredictable lyrics, what fascinated me the most was Paul Simon himself: a man so deeply passionate that his ENTIRE life became engagement with that craft he so loved: music. Unexpectedly, during the concert he even exposed his passion for the environment and for treating it well. Unafraid of peoples' politics, he encouraged us to get involved in the environmental movement in which he was particularly involved, naming a specific organization and even the person who led it. He fearlessly shared this other passion, not in a preachy or unattractive way, berating any of us whose recycling habits might leave something to be desired. He was just sharing what he cared about. Maybe they'll love what I love.
At the conclusion of his scheduled performance (two encores would follow), and again after his final encore, he spread his arms out wide, as if to embrace all of us-- guitar clasped in his right hand-- and looked out at us. He was taking in the scene. The 76-year-old man seemed to have lived neither a stagnant nor a controversy-free life, but rather a life marked by pursuing the talent he was given and adhering to what he loved. Paul Simon has been giving us his music for over 60 years, but last night he gave us that music alongside his gratitude, deeply moved in front of our response to him. The man who's filled at least 184 songs with all the things he has to say uttered merely two words at the end. He said them sincerely and quietly; they themselves were filled with the sound of silence:
"Thank you."
Juliet, Sept. 15, 2018
This is such a great post - it speaks so much to the heart and a reminder to keep our eyes open. Thank you for sharing!
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