Simon & Garfunkel, Better than Morrissey and Bigger than Jesus

feeling groovy

What can one say? Think of their career, think of their harmonies, think of their haircuts. It is said that Simon & Garfunkel came to us from an unknown plain in one of the nether regions of the universe. Each song is like a really bad episode of The Wonder Years, am I right? They invented the cotton-brick shirt. I will say that their melodies leave me with a big old smile upon my buttocks. My favorite individual cut would no doubt have to be “Scarborough Fair”, as there is something in the vocal orchestration that reminds me of my beloved Stereolab, and “Dots & Loops” era Lab material in particular, albeit in a decidedly atmospheric Folk-Rock vibe.

“Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” was such a landmark in my youth, as I lost my virginity shortly after its release in 1966 while attending university in Boston. Of course, the album holds merit beyond just my boyhood memories. The sonic collage, the spiritual quest, the quite literal terms…it is all here, and every bit as good as anything on Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks”. This band could get pretty fucking dark as well, take “Bookends” for example, it’s just as raw or powerful as anything the late great Notorious B.I.G. cooked up; some really fierce jams appear on the latter half of that LP, baby. And the wedge that developed between these two old pals as things settled down when the ‘70’s began…made the woes of The Brothers Oasis look like an episode of the fucking Brady Bunch, baby.

So, don’t just listen to their music for pure nostalgia while smoking some dope with your butt-buddies, because this music belongs to every lop-haired dork with an attitude. Yeah, I might be getting old and desperately wish I could retire, but the world is changing and this music is surviving those changes because it is truly musical art, and even with the precious pretentious Faberge egg vibe that sometimes rears its groovy little head, but regardless, respect this shit and dig in, baby. Is this music pulling at your heart strings yet, is it, baby? Is it?

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