Hello Darkness, My Old Friendby Sal Moriarty
Friends are the siblings God never gave us. Mencius
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy
Old Friends / Book Ends (words and music by Paul Simon / performed by Simon and Garfunkel)
Simon and Garfunkel are one of the most successful musical acts of all-time. Many of their songs, such as The Sound of Silence and Bridge Over Troubled Water, are now American standards. Simon and Garfunkel were Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.
Visually, they were interesting: the diminutive Simon, dark haired and brooding, alongside the lanky, fair-haired Garfunkel. Their musical roles were distinct. Simon, widely regarded as one of America's finest songwriters, wrote the songs and was prominent in their arrangements. He was (is) also a fine guitarist. Garfunkel's role was evident from the get-go: a singular, radiant voice.
Many books, and thousands of articles, have been written about the twosome; deep dives into the importance of their music and its impact on the culture. They've sold out stadiums and recorded iconic live albums, such as The Concert in Central Park. In short, there is little these pioneers of folk-rock have not accomplished.
Both Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel are eighty-two years old, and two of the dumbest people I can think of in show business.
In 2018, my wife and I went to see Paul Simon in New Orleans. It was one of the last shows of his farewell tour. In his mid-seventies, he was still filling arenas. It was a tremendous, wildly diverse concert. We had a great time.
At some point, late in the show, Simon introduced his next song. He said it was unique because it was the only song he'd ever given away. A friend attended the concert with us. Greg was (he died the next year) the most knowledgeable person I have ever known where popular music is concerned. When Simon made the comment, we looked at each other, confused.
The song in question turned out to be Bridge Over Troubled Water. Art Garfunkel sang the lead on the legendary record. In conversation after the show, we thought it telling Simon felt he had “given away” the song to fifty percent (in name, at least) of Simon and Garfunkel. We felt it more telling he felt compelled to say it in front of sixteen-thousand people. It seemed petty.
It was just another example of Simon speaking disparagingly, and publicly, about his old partner. For his part, Garfunkel, over the years, has given as he good as he got.
A few years back, in an interview with Rolling Stone, Garfunkel said he befriended Simon in school because he felt sorry for him due to Simon's slight stature. He was asked if he felt Simon had a Napoleonic complex. Yes, he replied.
There's a scene in the recent documentary about Simon (In Restless Dreams: The Music of Paul Simon) where he is talking with his wife, Texan Edie Brickell. What are they discussing? Art Garfunkel being a jerk for not appreciating the largess provided him all these years by Simon.
I could fill the rest of this screen with such trifling non-sense from both of these legendary artists.
So, one might ask, who cares? It's a valid point. Show-biz nonsense and all. That said, it's fascinating to observe these men, who achieved everything one could hope for, were rewarded handsomely for their endeavors, feel the need late in life (while not in great health) to regularly drop the verbal hammer on the other.
For me, it begs the simple question: don't they realize, someday, they're going to die? They're both eighty-two years old.
You know, of course, when one does exit this mortal coil for the great hootenanny in the sky, the other will effusively sing his praises. The compliments will be free flowing and hyperbolic. You won't be able to shut him up, and it'll be too late to matter.
Show biz nonsense or not, probably a lesson there.