Show Review

Simon and Garfunkel stole my mom. It happened quickly and without much passing thought on my part, like the Pied Piper for Parents tip-toeing through town. Disguised in blue jeans and flannel shirts, folk music’s pop poets infiltrated my suburban world, seduced my unsuspecting parents, and made off with my mom. Ironically enough, this all happened to the tune of “Mrs. Robinson.”

It seems fitting that Simon and Garfunkel’s adult abduction began at the Bottom Line. Sometime in September, Simon and Garfunkel used the famed New York club to announce that for the first time in ten years they’d not only pretend to be “old friends” for a few weeks, they’d also embark of their first full-scale arena tour in twenty years. A few years ago, the Greenwich Village’s rock and roll womb would have made the perfect place to launch such a lauded reunion - it being the address for many of the sixties’ most famous musical memories. But this time around, the Bottom Line didn’t seem comfortable because of the Queens-bred singers’ sixties connections. Instead, the icons seemed forever linked because, before the New Year, both the Bottom Line and Simon and Garfunkel might be exclusively available in history books.

As has been widely publicized, the Bottom Line will soon close its doors, having failed to pay several months back rent and been subsequently evicted by landlord NYU. Similarly, Simon has said in numerous interviews that this will most likely be the final large-scale outing he launches with Garfunkel. (“We seem to get together every ten or twelve years, so you do the math,” the 61-year old singer and guitarist said earlier this Fall.)

Not that the longtime collaborators haven’t cried wolf in the past. Each of Simon and Garfunkel’s reunion-runs have been touted as their final, on account of the duo’s notorious sibling-like rivalry. That said, some of Simon and Garfunkel’s scarce spots have also been among pop’s most epic appearances -including the performances on the sophomore episode of Saturday Night Live, at a 500,000 person Central Park summit, and a 1993 residency at the Paramount Theater - all without a single new song to pawn for their increasingly financially comfortable fans. But then again Simon and Garfunkel have always occupied a peculiar place in pop-culture. Providing the soundtrack to sixties nostalgia, the duo always seemed more concerned with individuality than international peace.

Shying away from the psychedelic-folk and blues-rock that colored their more brawny peers, Simon and Garfunkel play short, sweet pop songs, structured around pure poetry, courtesy of America’s Sir. Paul. Therefore, each of their monumental reunions has not only celebrated the two men’s catchy cannon, but also the bright side of an era often remembered more for its Diggers, drugs and destructive wars than its peace, love, and happiness. Only Simon and Garfunkel seem able to rein in the Age of Aquarius’ hopeful ideology, casting an uplifting light on the most lethargic issues. So I wasn’t particularly surprised when my mom trekked from Westchester to her Meadowlands Mecca as if it was San Francisco.

Personally, I feel more connected to Paul Simon’s Caveman disaster and Art Garfunkel’s receding hairline than to I do to their combined legacy. Sure Greatest Hits was a great listen on the ride to high-school and the Lemonheads’ rendition of “Mrs. Robinson” made Wayne’s Word 2 worthy, but I’ve always felt detached from the duo’s artistic underbelly. Thus, as I navigated my way through the Meadowland’s mazelike parking lot, I couldn’t help feeling a bit estranged from my fellow concertgoers. While the usual Northern New Jersey trademarks were in place, leftover pretzel vendors from the afternoon’s Giants game, over-zealous bootleg t-shirt salesmen, and the ominous smokestacks that color the Sopranos credits, this parking lot looked more like a Lexus commercial than a tail-gate party.

Inside I felt a similar sense of misplacement. As audience members reflected back on their past peak S&G experiences, I felt drawn into the Summer of Love. But it was a bizzaro Age of Aquarius in which tie-dyes cost $65 and cell-phones have replaced lighters as a means to lure musicians into an encore. While I was certainly thankful to score a ticket to this concert, and had a few “Phantasy Paul” picks to look forward too, I felt happier for my parents, who were able to relive their own musical rebellion. And although it didn’t smell like it, the show certainly sounded like the sixties. Simon and Garfunkel still sing like they’re twenty and the duo smartly stripped their songs down to their essential roots.

Embracing my social-anthropologist instincts, I approached Simon and Garfunkel's setlist as if I was still on Shakedown Street. Asterisks were awarded to “Sounds of Silence,” last played in 1967, segue symbols were used to denote the outro of “Cecelia” and the “J” word itself employed to describe a brief musical interlude filling-out the belly of “Homeward Bound.” But in general Simon and Garfunkel stuck to the shtick that’s worked since they called Kew Gardens Hills their home.

Though my parents hoped for a few B-sides that fell by the wayside, they seemed genuinely pleased with this stock-setlist. And who can blame them. The songs Simon and Garfunkel played are nothing short of generational anthems, also packed with more sublime spontaneity. Perhaps its because their lyrics and harmonies always overshadowed their often sparse-scores, or maybe its because my mom knows far more about the duo than I dare to ask, but throughout the show I found myself more concerned with [I]what[/I] they played than how they played. Drawing mostly from their Essentials album, Simon and Garfunkel revive an art often lost in the jamband world of improvisation: they play both the sounds and the songs fans come to hear.

At times watching the duo’s performance was like reliving an episode of Behind the Music. Childhood rivals, Simon and Garfunkel began performing together in their teens, under the moniker “Tom and Jerry.” After a few minor hits, the group traveled to England and almost called it quits, before finding their voice in Lower Mountain clubs.

Stacking their setlist with hits, Simon and Garfunkel consciously catered to their adult audience. While the group’s last reunion run- a 1993 residency at New York’s Paramount Theater-featured healthy selections from both musicians’ solo catalogues, this time around the Queens-bred singers focused on their time together. In fact, the only song offered from Simon’s solo canon was “Slip Sliding Away,” which could have passed for one of the duo’s originals with Garfunkel’s tenor firmly in place.

Already halfway through their reunion tour, Simon and Garfunkel have their act down to an accurate science. The duo knows how to pace their set, using videos and acoustic numbers to break up their nine-man show. They also know what jokes regimented best with audience members, offering choice quips throughout.

"We started to sing together when we were 13 years old and we started to argue when we were 14, so this is the 47th anniversary of our arguing," Simon said on stage last night at Madison Square Garden. But the polished intimacy of singers made for exceptional music. Timeless classics like the “Sound of Silence,” “America,” and “Scarborough Fair” sounded exactly as they did in the seventies, though Garfunkel’s voice is a bit lower than in his youth. Backed by many of Simon’s post-Graceland collaborators, “Homeward Bound” and “The Boxer” both got minor world-beat makeovers, which showcased Rhymin’ Simon’s guitar skills as well. Likewise, “Celica,” the proto-type to afro-pop song, featured a smorgasbord of eclectic sounds, such as Melton and tuning fork. Throughout, Garfunkel’s unconscious “air-guitar” was priceless.

Nodding to their own influences, Simon and Garfunkel invited the Everly Brothers to perform a few of their choice numbers, such as “Wake up Little Suzie,” “Dreams,” and “Bye Bye Love,” on which the evening’s headliners also gusted. Clips from The Graduate helped spice up “Mrs. Robinson” and the harpsichord truly made “Scarborough Fair” a medieval feat. The old “Tom and Jerry” song “Hey Schoolgirl” was a nice bit of novelty and the opening number “Old Friends” seemed particularly fitting, followed by a bit of an earnest (sounding) banter from Garfunkel (“I'm so sorry it has taken so many years for us to get here.”) But the nights’ highlight was “America,” an anthem that still seems to make sense three-decades later: everyone in the audience came to search for their own vision of America.

Throughout their recital, it was hard to look away from the sixties icons. Sure Simon’s smug remarks got a little self-indulgent and American Idol very well might have ruined my ability to enjoy “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” but for a few minutes it felt OK to place that songs’ cheese on top of a granola cracker. Sure, Simon and Garfunkel's set clocked in at precisely two-hours and five minutes, but to the moms, dads, and even jaded children of America, the duo made it seem like they had been waiting for those one-hundred twenty-fives minutes their entire life.

It seemed appropriate for Simon and Garfunkel to conclude with “The 59th St. Bridge Song.” Its lyrics reflect an era long gone: “Slow down you move too fast/you got to make the morning last/kicking down the cobblestones/looking for fun and feeling groovy.” Its nice to see the word groovy has yet to become gentrified.

So if Simon and Garfunkel happen to stroll through your town sometime soon, ask them if they’ve seen my mom. I think it’s about time I joined her on tour.

Photo originally appeared in Boston Globe and artgarfunkel.com.