A few weeks ago, milling around in between classes, I stopped into Haffa's Records that hides in plain sight just off Court Street. There’s never anyone there to annoy me, unlike the bookstore I bought my records at back in Cleveland. It’s a beautiful little hole in the wall, and it’s no surprise that I found a gem there.
I initially picked up the record because it had Paul Simon’s name on it, plain and simple. I didn’t know it was a new release as of June 2016. I figured it was probably one of the mass-produced greatest hits collections that are becoming prevalent as records make a comeback among hipster kids with money to spend. Anyway, Simon wasn’t yet a part of my collection, so I took it home to my dorm and tried it out.
I was immediately captivated by the rare lyrical gift Simon still possesses. Putting words together in a clever, classic John Lennon/Elvis Costello sort of way, he is one of the masterminds I’ve always marveled over. I grew up listening to “You Can Call Me Al” in the backseat of my dad’s Honda without thinking much of it. As I got older I dug up Simon and Garfunkel works like “The Boxer,” “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and “Cecila.” He’s the kind of storyteller you don’t really see in the public eye anymore and I resonate with the voice he puts out there.
His words still carry the same weight, after all of this time. Looks will fade, but intellect won’t. No one can ever take a writer’s way of seeing the world away from them. This new album is not overkill, it’s overdue. Simon proves that creativity doesn’t run dry for true artists.
Starting out the record out with a bang is “Werewolf." The quirky lyrics and down-home tempo draw you in immediately. It’s not all fun and games, however, as Simon tackles serious societal issues. We’re all just running from his metaphor of darkness and fear. Simon reminds us of many harsh realities, the most substantial being “Life is a lottery a lot of people lose.”
“Cool Papa Bell” cranks out the chords of a casual backyard sing-along, as the lyrics depict a character we all envy. “It’s not my job to worry or to think/ not me” Simon writes. He often sings about the kind of peaceful presence that is difficult to attain in the chaotic world. Just a man with a cigarette and not a single care. It has a sort of quirky, Sublime-like, ‘90s throwback feel that he effortlessly pulls off.
Probably the most notable standout is “Wristband.” Mocking himself, and the world of entertainment, Simon sings of being locked out of his own show. The bluesy track has some serious undertones, however. He draws a parallel between not being let backstage and not having the opportunity to succeed because of monetary class.
“The riots started slowly with the homeless and the lowly/Then they spread to the heartland towns that never get a wristband/Kids that can’t afford a wristband whose anger is a short-hand/For you’ll never get a wristband and if you don’t have a wristband, then you can’t get through the door.”
Simon wasn’t trying to write another smash hit, the old man knows the days of his billboard dominance are over. This record was about pure, great, uncorrupted song-writing, for the love of it. His words ring in my ears, even as I type this, he is provoking my thoughts and bringing back the emotions that we all try to bury so we can carry on rationally.
“Stranger to stranger/ if we met for the first time/ could you imagine us falling in love again?”
He paints a picture we’ve all constructed at some point. The title track ends with the invaluable advice. “Feel the sun/ drink the rain/ let your body heal its pain.” And with that, Simon proves that he never stopped being special, and he never will.
The acoustic, well-constructed album is the kind of thing contemporary artists like Ed Sheeran should strive for in a few decades. We have to continue the legacy of genuine story-telling and refuse to let talent go to waste. Humans need each other to verbalize thoughts and feelings when they cannot. Music exists because of the basic human need to feel understood.
Halle Weber is a freshman studying journalism with a focus in news and information at Ohio University. Do you still collect vinyl records? Let Halle know by emailing or tweeting her at hw422715@ohio.edu or @HalleWeber13, respectively.
