A Man Hears What He Wants To Hear / Simon and
Garfunkel at Madison Square Garden /
And Disregards The Rest
by
|
W |
ednesday, December 3, 2003: In the season of twinkling anticipation surrounding the contents of brightly wrapped packages, it was an apropos time to experience nostalgia a la Simon and Garfunkel at Madison Square Garden.
The audience mixed and mostly over thirty – though the biggest contingent seemed to be Fifty-Somethings – was easy and mellow. Thought I recognized more than a few ex-hippies. Kept joking with my companion, Terry, while pointing a finger at some passing our seats, “Old fart!” (She and I being self same at 51 and 53.) And she laughed: every time.
And so, at 8:35pm, the Garden nearly full, on the hanging monitors a self-important montage of political and cultural images spanning the Fifties to the Seventies accompanied an instrumental version of America. That once potent tome to restless, self-centered Kerouac wannabees hopelessly irrelevant in post 9.11 America.
And now, on the monitor, the object of our pilgrimage appeared – to a standing ovation. Without a word they launched into an acoustic Old Friends: the name of their tour. And the warm feeling they’re selling; trying to lessen the backwash of widely publicized bad feelings and split-ups – 1958 after bombing as Tom and Jerry; in 1963 after Wednesday Morning, 3 AM initially tanked; in 1971 after the stellar Bridge Over Troubled Water; and again after their last reconciliation in 1981. Divorce lawyers put in central air for handling relationships like these.
Can you imagine us years from today,Sharing a park bench quietlyHow terribly strange to be seventy Old friends, memory brushes the same years,Silently sharing the same fears
Old Friends (P. Simon, 1968)
Three other pairs backed up the leads: guitars, drummers and
keyboards. In quick succession they
cranked out Hazy Shade of Winter, I Am a Rock, America and At the
Zoo. Then, leaving the Sixties, the
bouncy Baby Driver from Bridge . . .
The performances, spare and well rehearsed, approached hospital grade antiseptic.
I’ll never get used to MIDI keyboards synthesizing horns and other instruments. For the prices S/G command it seems a few more band members were in order.
Art, sitting on a stool, made contact with the audience with, “I feel great!” He regaled the audience with tales of the fifty-year collaboration with Mr. Simon starting with their youth in Queens when, at age eleven, Paul won the lead in Alice in Wonderland, Art a supporting one.
Art joked, “If it had only been Garfunkel and Simon.” Funny. Except, according to a review, he’d told the same joke on opening night the day before. And, according to other newspaper reports, at nearly every performance since the tour began. The entire set list is also identical.
Art’s patter segued the duo into The Everly-Brothers-inspired Hey, Schoolgirl: the minor Tom & Jerry 1957 hit. (Garfunkel at least got first billing as Tom Graph to Simon’s Jerry Landis.)
Phil and Don Everly appeared to enthusiastically play Wake Up Little Susie, All I Have To Do Is Dream and Let It Be Me. Terry and I had a ball singing, “Oo la la,” while pointing shaming fingers at each other during …Suzie. Halfway through their closer – Bye Bye Love – S/G retook the stage to finish the Fifties anthem.
Scarborough Fair/Canticle preceded Homeward Bound. The latter featured a trippy jam (for a moment I thought it was a Dead show) showcasing the band’s talents.
In a well-modulated progression, and in honor of their folk-rock personas, slow followed fast: an acoustic Sounds of Silence was next.
In what felt more like a contract point Garfunkel’s lawyer negotiated, from left field shown another montage to Feelin’ Groovy, celebrating, mostly, Garfunkel in movies – notably Catch 22 and Carnal Knowledge. (Simon’s role in Catch 22 was cut before filming began.) The cinematic stage now set, from The Graduate a rousing Mrs. Robinson followed and turned into another pretty tasty jam.
Simon, nearly mute to this point, spoke of songs written for his solo life as, “Perfect Simon and Garfunkel songs.” Art joined him on Slip Slidin’ Away. Man, those lawyers made sure the i’s were dotted.
Three from Bridge . . . followed: El Condor Pasa, Keep The Customer Satisfied and The Only Living Boy In New York. The mid-Seventies My Little Town, next, also featured a jam.
The incredible Bridge Over Troubled Water ended the show – Art and Paul taking solo turns with the lyrics. Garfunkel’s voice, olive oil - like, clashed with dispassionate body language – hands ensconced in pockets. Simon, in counter-point, is highly expressive, but equally smooth. And he’s a brilliant songwriter. One need not wonder why nailed the Alice In Wonderland lead role.
Two encores featured Cecila, The Boxer (acoustic), Leaves That Are Green (a song Simon claimed they haven’t performed since Carnegie Hall, 1967) and The 59th Street Bridge Song: Feelin’ Groovy.
Time: 10:40pm.
December 26th is the second busiest retail day of the year – not so much purchasing as returning going on. Sometimes you want toys and get clothes instead. Though there were a few high points, the contents of this package disappointed. Inside, a badly shorn up relationship giving the impression of Old Friends: sleight of hand distracting the audience from the appearance their precious music is now secondary.
Is, then, it important what Simon thinks of Garfunkel and vice-versa? You’re damn right it does! We’re talking about a duo. Two guys who once cared about stopping a war they found unjust, singing songs about slain Civil Rights workers, writing and performing battle-crys rousing the populace to eschew alienation and mistrust and the hypnosis of a great society by large corporations. . . and to embrace love. We need those guys again.
Where have you
gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
If the Simon and Garfunkel of the Sixties attended this concert, I’m sure they would have left and organized a protest.
Couched in our indifference,Like shells upon the shoreYou can hear the ocean roarIn the dangling conversationAnd the superficial sighs,The borders of our lives.
The Dangling Conversation (P. Simon, 1966)
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