Simon & Garfunkel

by Spencer Leigh

  Paul Simon worked on ‘Cars Are Cars’ after contributing to ‘In Cars’ with Art Garfunkel. He is making the point that although there are many different makes and models of cars, they are, when it comes down to it, just cars whereas people are all different. The bridge is about that red Impala that burst into flames.

  Paul saw a photograph in a book, reproduced on the inner sleeve, and its caption led to the song, ‘Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War’. Alone in their hotel room, they play doo-wop records. The groups that are mentioned – the Penguins and the Moonglows – didn’t get going until the mid-50s but that is hardly the point. Magritte was the father of surrealism and so why should any song about him make sense? The track is a delightful waltz, enhanced by background harmonies from the Harptones. Paul is singing in an unusual key for him and possibly this arrangement had been intended for Art.

  Not everything is serious or the result of thinking too much. One day Paul was just playing Sam Cooke’s ‘Bring It on Home to Me’ and he started changing the chords. He arrived at a new melody to which he wrote a lyric about songwriting, ‘Song about the Moon’.

  The album concludes with a studio version of ‘The Late Great Johnny Ace’. The song is enhanced by Marin Alsop’s violin and the closing section is orchestrated by the minimalist composer, Philip Glass.

  Columbia had funded a recording of a four-hour opera by Philip Glass called Akhnaten. Part of the deal was that he should team up with rock lyricists for a more commercial enterprise. He was given lyrics by Paul Simon, Suzanne Vega, David Byrne (Talking Heads) and Laurie Anderson which he set to music. The result was Songs from Liquid Days with vocalists including Linda Ronstadt and the Roches.

  Glass told Simon, ‘Your music is classical. It will be heard as long as people listen to music.’

  ‘You think so?’ said Simon, somewhat surprised.

  ‘I think so,’ said Glass.

  The songs by and large are about living in New York. Simon wrote ‘Changing Opinion’ about a man who hears a hum in his room. What is it – is it an electric hum, the hum of a refrigerator, the hum of our parents’ voices from long ago, or the hum of changing opinion. It takes ten minutes to deliver this profundity in which Bernard Fowler, who regularly works with the Rolling Stones, sings Simon’s words.

  Two songs were dropped from Hearts and Bones. One, ‘Shelter of Your Arms’, was incomplete, but had potential. Simon liked ‘Citizen of the Planet’, which was a plea for nuclear disarmament, but felt that the song was too direct for him. It sounds like an early 60s folk song for the Clancy Brothers. Simon thought of passing it to a committed folk group but then it got lost. Simon and Garfunkel’s version was added to the double live CD Old Friends in 2004.

  The public had been expecting a new album from Simon & Garfunkel and it didn’t happen, so some might say there was a backlash over this album. I don’t think that is the case. These weren’t hit songs and, as Simon remarked, he could hardly complain that he hadn’t had hit singles when he was writing about surrealism. Warner Brothers must have been hoping for some return on their investment but nevertheless, this is a superb album and one of his best.

  In December 1983 Art Garfunkel and Amy Grant appeared at a charity concert at the Royal Festival Hall. It was for Jimmy Webb’s cantata, mostly for children’s voices, The Animals’ Christmas. It was very well received and was broadcast on the BBC on Christmas Day and later issued as an album.

  In April 1984, Carrie and Paul announced that they were splitting up after eight months of marriage, although the album Hearts and Bones had made it abundantly clear. Carrie went into a clinic for drug rehabilitation. She remained friendly with Paul and they were often seen together in the late 80s.

  At the end of 1984 Bob Geldof assembled an all-star group, Band Aid, to make a charity single, ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ to help famine relief in Ethiopia. It sold 3.5m copies in the UK and Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie then wrote ‘We Are the World’ for the USA for Africa. The recording took place after the Grammys in L.A. in January 1985 and a sign outside the studio instructed participants to leave their egos behind. Paul Simon had a spot next to Prince, but Prince didn’t show. The single topped the US and UK charts. The comedian Ben Elton made the remark, ‘You must know who Bob Dylan is. He’s the one who can’t sing in the ‘We Are the World’ video.’

  This was followed by the huge Live Aid concert on 13 July 1985. Simon & Garfunkel were not invited but Paul was scheduled to harmonise with Bob Dylan which didn’t bother Paul at all. He said, ‘I can harmonise with anyone’ and was happy for Bob to sing lead. In the end, Dylan worked with Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood, performing a ragged set, partly because they had been carousing. If Simon had been involved, there would have been some much-needed discipline.

  Art cut a new single, ‘Sometimes When I’m Dreaming’, a fine performance of a romantic ballad written and beautifully orchestrated by Mike Batt, but it was no ‘Bright Eyes’. The song was included on The Art Garfunkel Album, the first compilation of his solo work with some remixing to give a richer sound. It was a Top 20 album in the UK.

  The producer of Saturday Night Live, Lorne Michaels, had asked Paul to give some advice to a young Norwegian singer/songwriter Heidi Berg. She was going to be in a TV talent series, The New Show. She told Paul that when she was going to record, she wanted the same accordion sound as a tape she had of South African musicians, Gumboots: Accordion Jive Hits, Volume 2. She lent Simon the tape. Some weeks later he invited her to a one-man show in Saratoga. He told her that he bought the rights to the tape and he was going to Africa to work with the band. She said, ‘I didn’t think you were my competitor’, to which he apparently replied, ‘You try and compete with me, little girl, and I’ll cut you down.’ In the notes for Graceland, Simon credited Berg as ‘a friend who gave me a tape’.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Days of Miracle and Wonder

  Louis Armstrong said all music was ‘folk music’ as he had never heard of animals making music. The same logic applies to ‘world music’. It is generally used for songs sung in a foreign language that are not directly related to the main American genres – that is, the great American songbook of jazz, pop, rock or country. In other words, anything that sounds a bit different to western ears. World music is local music from somewhere else.

  World music is a good phrase for media attention, but the music of Africa is so different from the music of India that it is pointless to bracket them together. The term has the feeling of authenticity but it was coined as a marketing tool by specialist American record companies in 1987 to define their products better. Sometimes it is called ‘roots music’ as much of it goes back to ancient cultures in Asia and Africa.

  Long before the term was brought into use in the 1980s there were many examples of world music in western culture. In 1958 Elias & his Zig-Zag Jive Flutes made No. 2 on the UK charts with ‘Tom Hark’. At the time it was regarded as a very catchy, novelty hit.

  In 1960 Harry Belafonte recorded ‘One More Dance’ with Miriam Makeba on a live album from Carnegie Hall and the young singer from Johannesburg became well known to American audiences. She and Belafonte won a Grammy for their 1965 album, An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba, which featured South African tunes sung in tribal languages. Belafonte encouraged other African acts and he himself recorded many African songs. In 1967 Miriam Makeba had a US hit with ‘Pata Pata’, and the following year her husband, the trumpeter Hugh Masekela went to No. 1 in the US with ‘Grazing In the Grass’.

  In 1971 the drummer from Cream, Ginger Baker, worked with African musicians in Lagos and two years later, Paul McCartney was there recording Band on the Run. There is a slight African connection with the track ‘Mamunia’ but McCartney preferred to play drums himself rather than use African percussionists. Had he explored the local culture, Graceland might not have been such a groundbreaking album.

  In 1973 the jazz saxophonist Manu Dibango, from Cameroon, made the US charts
with ‘Soul Makossa’. If you read James Brown’s autobiography, you will read how he and Fela Kuti formed a mutual admiration society and had an influence on what the other was doing. There are examples of African rhythms in much of James Brown’s work and the soul band Osibisa mixed the music of America and Africa. On The Hissing of Summer Lawns in 1975, Joni Mitchell wrote ‘The Jungle Line’ around some drums played by Burundi musicians in the 60s.

  The most famous African chant is Solomon Linda’s ‘Mbube’, often performed as ‘Wimoweh’ or ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’. It took several decades for Linda’s family to secure its copyright and hence the royalties to the song, which to this day is performed in The Lion King. Very often songwriters and musicians who adapt songs for western ears don’t appreciate what they are doing. ‘In the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight’ was written by a city boy; lions are nocturnal and live on the plains, not in the jungle.

  So there were numerous examples of world music in western popular culture before Paul Simon’s Graceland in 1986. The best-known examples surround Indian music in the mid-60s. Many groups used sitars on their records, notably the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Byrds and the Yardbirds, starting with ‘Norwegian Wood’ in 1965. Simon & Garfunkel were in on the act with ‘Fakin’ It’. In most cases, the Indian influences were being brought into western songs to add colouring to a group’s sound.

  One of the best examples is the Byrds’ ‘Eight Miles High’. Roger McGuinn says, ‘We turned the Beatles on to Indian music. We were in a house in Beverly Hills. They had invited us up and we were passing guitars back and forth. We showed them some Ravi Shankar licks and they wondered what it was. We said it was Indian music and they really got into it after that. We turned them onto it! (laughs)’

  With the best of intentions, Miriam Makeba recommended Roger McGuinn to take the Byrds to South Africa in 1968 so that they could see Third World poverty and oppression for themselves. Gram Parsons had joined the Byrds a few months earlier and was uncomfortable about this, leaving the band in London on the eve of their tour. Their roadie, Carlos Bernal, took his place.

  The United Nations had imposed a cultural and sporting boycott in South Africa until it abolished apartheid. Ironically, one of the first sportsmen to ignore the ban was a cricketer named, believe it or not, Geoffrey Boycott.

  In a clever and manipulative move, Bophuthatswana had been declared an independent state by the South African government, although it was still part of South Africa to the rest of the world. They built a huge entertainments complex called Sun City with a 6,000-seat auditorium. It became a holiday resort for residents in Johannesburg.

  Several British and American entertainers convinced themselves that it was okay to play Sun City. Among those who went were Frank Sinatra, Paul Anka, Rod Stewart, Linda Ronstadt, Chicago and Elton John, Sinatra being the first major star to play there. Frank maintained that playing Sun City was part of his campaign against apartheid, and he ignored that he was being used by the apartheid government. The performers were taking money out of Africa so perhaps were making the situation marginally worse. Said Paul Simon, somewhat ridiculously, ‘To play Sun City would be like doing a concert in Nazi Germany at the height of the Holocaust.’

  Simon turned down Sun City but he would not participate in a single organised by Little Steven on the ground that it mentioned names. It was credited to Artists United Against Apartheid and the performers included Bob Dylan, Bobby Womack, Lou Reed and the Temptations. In the end, the record didn’t name names as other performers objected.

  The first major star to embrace African dance rhythms was Peter Gabriel and he also sponsored the WOMAD (World of Music and Dance) Festival and gave benefit concerts for Amnesty International. He made records with Youssou N’dour from Senegal, who became an international star in his own right. Gabriel turned to South African politics with ‘Biko’ in 1980, and the Specials recorded ‘Nelson Mandela’ in 1984.

  The Sex Pistols’ manager Malcolm McLaren went to South Africa and he released a highly successful album, Duck Rock, in 1983 that had many influences but at its core it combined hip hop with mbaqanga (township jive). Simon was to say in defence of his own activities, ‘Malcolm McLaren came over a year before we did, didn’t pay anybody and took all the credit.’

  Paul Simon had liked the Gumboots tape very much. The instruments – accordion, electric guitar, bass and drums – were familiar to him and the music reminded him of some favourite acts from the 50s, notably the street sounds of New York. Despite all the hardships of living in South Africa, this was very happy music. It was an album of township jive from Soweto and Simon ordered another twenty albums of South African music. He listened to it during the summer and knew he had his next project.

  The word ‘gumboots’ was a reference to the miners and railway workers who wore heavy boots and loved this music. He bought the rights to the ‘Gumboots’ track with the Boyoyo Boys and added his own voice and conversational lyrics. The new track was completed before Simon and Roy Halee went to South Africa in February 1985. Paul Simon thought it the weakest cut on Graceland but it was the one which had stirred his interest.

  It set the template for the album. Most of the lyrics are precise, rapid-fire and conversational, as though you have met a man in a bar and he won’t stop talking. Most of the time, Simon is writing about himself and his life in New York City. The opening line of ‘Gumboots’ goes ‘I was walking down the street’ is echoed in ‘A man walks down the street’ from ‘You Can Call Me Al’. He talks about a man having a breakdown and, as so often on this album, you wonder if he had asked Woody Allen to help with the words. For example, the line ‘Don’t I know you from the cinematographers’ party?’ sounds more like Woody Allen than anything from South Africa.

  There are enough indications on this album and elsewhere to suggest that in another life Simon could have been a stand-up Jewish comedian. Indeed, the big hit single from the album, ‘You Can Call Me Al’, was not promoted by a video of Simon working with African musicians but Simon doing a comic routine with Chevy Chase.

  With the possible exception of ‘The Boy in the Bubble’, there were no overt political references; there were no pleas to free Nelson Mandela. Not only did Simon not mention politics in the songs, there was nothing in his accompanying sleeve note. Simon has been criticised for this, probably unfairly. If he had made an album with African musicians and used it to criticise the status quo, might he not have put them in jeopardy and at the very least, had the album banned in South Africa?

  Nevertheless, Simon was cautious about going to South Africa. He told Harry Belafonte, who ran AAA (Artists and Athletes against Apartheid), that he was not going to perform concerts in South Africa: he only intended to do studio work with the musicians. As they did not have much money, he would pay them double the New York scale and they would receive appropriate credits on anything that was released.

  Belafonte had mixed feelings. He thought that Simon should discuss it with the ANC (African National Congress) but Simon did not want to get immersed in politics. He had the union for black musicians in South Africa approve his visit and this, he believed, resolved the issue. Many of his fellow musicians were uncomfortable with this, one likening him to a slave owner. In milder terms, Jerry Dammers from the Specials said, ‘Who does he think he is? He’s helping maybe thirty people and he is damaging the solidarity over sanctions.’

  When Simon and Roy Halee set off for South Africa, they were pleasantly surprised to find that Ovation Studios was better equipped than they had expected. They had booked some of the musicians from Gumboots to work with them.

  The group, Tau Ea Matsekha (the Lion of Matsetha) from Lesotho, played the rhythm tracks for what became ‘The Boy in the Bubble’ and ‘Graceland’. Their bass player Bakithi Kumalo said, ‘He fell in love with the music and that was good for everyone. It was fresh for us and fresh for Americans too. It was unbelievable for me as a South African to hear music in English and see how he put everythi
ng together.’

  ‘The Boy in the Bubble’ has a frenetic lyric which captured the unrest in the world. The first verse is about a bomb in a baby carriage which blows up some soldiers; the second verse turns to starvation in the desert; and the third the advances in medical technology. The song shows how we are drawn together by news reports and telephone calls. It was an unusual choice for a single, but it is rather like a township version of ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’.

  While at Ovation, Simon worked with the band Stimela, and they recorded the basic track for ‘Crazy Love, Vol II’. The lead guitar was played by Ray Phiri but soprano sax and guitar synth were added in New York. It’s another song about divorce and the reason for the title, according to Simon, is because Van Morrison had recorded a song called ‘Crazy Love’, which had just been revived by Maxi Priest. As Paul Anka, Poco and the Allman Brothers Band had recorded different songs called ‘Crazy Love’ and indeed any number of people, perhaps this should have been ‘Crazy Love, Vol 86’.

  ‘I Know What I Know’ was recorded with General M. D. Shirinda & the Gaza Sisters. Simon added synclavier in New York and the synth drums have been overdone, although they make an impression. It’s disjointed and it is the weakest track on the album.

  After the visit to Johannesburg, Paul Simon invited a rhythm section to New York and he selected Ray Phiri (guitar), Bakithi Kumalo (bass) and Isaac Mtshali (drums). Their standard of musicianship was high and he could place them alongside key New York session men.

  The best-known of these tracks and also the best is ‘You Can Call Me Al’, which includes a penny whistle solo, not recorded in South Africa, but played by Morris Goldberg, a white South African who had lived in New York for twenty years.