What can I say; how can I type this? I'm too young to get nostalgic. I'm certainly far too young to feel nostalgic for Simon and Garfunkel. I mean, they broke up 7 years before I was even born. (Though it's a good bet I probably heard them in utero, but that's another matter for another day.) But I was overwhelmed at this show. Despite the silly price of the tickets, despite the freezing windy cold outside, despite having to go into Wal*Mart and work immediately after the show, despite all of that... it was just a magical night.

I haven't been to a concert with Mom and Stephen since... um... 1994? A once-in-a-lifetime thing like this can really bring a family together. We settled into our high-up seats (still a good view of the stage, especially with my $9 binoculars*) and I prepared myself for awful echoing. We were on the side of the arena, at about 2:00 from the stage perspective. The echo was going to be awful (just like at every other arena show I've been to). But I was determined not to let it ruin the night for me.

There was no echo, none. Philips Arena is so friggin good.

The show started with a video montage, cut to the guitar part from "America". I saw pictures of Paul and Art as kids, as teenagers, and on and on. The music alone almost choked me up. I'd been waiting to see Paul and Art for years.

They came out, to thunderous applause. The audience (at least in our section) was, on average, maybe 30. Half over 50, half under 25. But, as my mother points out, any young person who listens to the records can hear themselves there. The Simon and Garfunkel records are all about youth (even Bookends, with its theme of old age). During high school, almost ALL my friends listened to Simon and Garfunkel. So much for demographics.

Paul and Art looked older, that's for sure...


But they can still sing. Paul can still play (he spent most of his guitar runs hunkered down like Chuck Berry). And the harmonies? They've never been better.

This was called the "Old Friends" tour. And so they opened with "Old Friends", which of course segued into the "Bookends Theme." The audience was quiet, amazed at how thirty-some years have only made Paul's prophecies in the song come true. And then the band came out. There were seven members in the backing band, and they could play ANYTHING.

They ripped into "Hazy Shade Of Winter." It was classic, and (but?) the guitarist added a power rock riff that could be from 1968 or 1978 or 1988. Which was almost all the musical updating we got all night. +  

They played "I Am A Rock".

They played "America". And can I just say, this has always been one of my favorites. I find myself humming the opening to myself (as I am right now) for hours on end.

Then, kind of a surprise to me, they played "At the Zoo." It's one of my loopy favorites, from the kindly elephants to the drunken zookeeper.  This segued into "Baby Driver", one of the racous-horn songs from the Bridge album. Since there was no horn section, I wondered how well it would play. The song now had an extended piano solo. Which worked, but in a different way from the album version.

Art spoke to us. He apologized for the delay in their visit to Atlanta (they'd never played here together before). He was wearing a nice blue dress shirt and a big goofy purple tie. And then he sang "Kathy's Song."

Paul spoke to us. He and Art told us how they met in sixth grade (they played parts in Alice in Wonderland). How they started arguing one year later. How their first song, credited to Tom and Jerry, was almost a hit in 1961. And then they sang it, "Hey Schoolgirl." I've always had a soft spot in my heart for this one. It's a nice little ditty about young infatuation and thwarting one's education. And then Paul told us (as many of us knew) that the harmony parts in "Schoolgirl," and to be fair, all their other work, were a direct tribute to The Everly Brothers.

And Don and Phil Everly came out and sang. Their voices weren't in such great shape, but if I recall correctly they haven't sung together since the mid-80s, so who can blame them for being a little rusty. The Everlys sang "Wake Up Little Suzie" and "All I Have To Do Is Dream" and "Let It Be Me." Then Paul and Art came back out, and all four of them sang "Bye Bye Love."

The Everlys took their standing ovation and left. Paul and Art sang "Scarborough Fair."  And -- odd that I never noticed before -- it's such a weird little blend of baroque folk and psychedelia.

They played "Homeward Bound" -- probably very apt for them this late in the tour. Atlanta was the third to last show, and I imagine they couldn't wait to go home and not sing for a while. "Homeward Bound" had an extended instrumental coda, very Grateful Dead. Nice.

They brought the house down with "Sounds of Silence," a fantastic version that took the two extreme styles of the song (their first, folkie acoustic reading and the electrified rock that was brought in later) and melded them into a wonderful contrast.

We were treated to another video. To the tune of "Feelin' Groovy" we saw Paul and Art's solo careers, their children, and, oh yes, lots of clips from "The Graduate."

And so they played "Mrs. Robinson." The stage was, as they say, "in the round". Which means, basically, that Philips sold tickets behind the stage. But Paul and Art never ever forgot that part of the audience. Art especially kept turning around and singing to those hundred or so people. Those people were only a few dozen yards away. What seats. I'm still jealous.

Paul introduced "Slip Slidin' Away" as his only true solo Simon and Garfunkel song. Of all his solo stuff, it's the one that stands out most for the harmonies. Paul and Art traded verses, and finally joined in together for the final stanza.

And then they played "El Condor Pasa (If I Could)". Which is based on a traditional South American folk song, with deceptively simple lyrics. (Well, of course you'd rather be a hammer than a nail. My question is, would you rather be a screwdriver or a saw?)

Then, another song that must have hit close to home for them, "Keep The Customer Satisfied". Like "Baby Driver", the album form of this one is most distinguishable by the horns. But it can stand on its own: just having Paul and Art harmonize on a rocker like that is rewarding enough.

Paul said, "In 1969 Art flew down to Mexico to film Catch-22. And I wrote this." And he sang "The Only Living Boy in New York." At the end, Art and the guitarist shared backing vocal duty. And, like the album version always threatens to do, the backing vocals took my breath away. And there I was, choked up again.

Art told us that "American Tune" is his favorite of Paul's solo stuff; that he (Art) even sings it in his own solo shows. And they sang "American Tune". I'd never really listened to it before. Because it sounds so sweet and simple, it's hard to notice how hard the criticism hits. And, when this country is going through what it is now, I think more people need to hear this song. Again, when Paul and Art sang the last verse in unison, my heart leapt up.

Paul introduced the piano player, who opened up "My Little Town." This is the only studio reunion Simon and Garfunkel have had since 1970. In '75, Paul brought Art the song, saying that he (Art) sang too many "sweet songs" as a solo. And it's fantastic. And the live version was great. And oh, how it rocked.

And then we heard the opening to "Bridge Over Troubled Water." This song has been recorded hundreds of times, by so many people, that it's easy to assume it's been robbed of its power. (It was on the last American Idol CD, for god's sake!) And that's what I was thinking. Oh, it was the biggest hit, they have to do it, but I bet they're tired of it. Boy, Art even seems like he's out of it right now.  But I was fooled. Art brought all he had to it. His final exultant lines leapt into the air and hung there, in front of me.  The song stirred me as if I'd never heard it before. At the end I was on my feet, weak, sobbing, applauding like crazy. I'm moved now just typing about it.

And they left the stage. We clapped like crazy. Finally, they came back out. And "Cecilia" rocked as hard as ever. Still recovering from "Bridge," I really felt the joy of the song. "Jubilation" is right.

And then they played "The Boxer." At the first few concerts** the applause stopped the song for a few minutes, but in Atlanta they just played through it. We quieted down soon. We wanted to hear every note. The guitarist pulled out a theremin and played it (very well, I might add) during the "Lie la lie" section.

They left the stage again. We wouldn't quit. We didn't let up. The band stayed behind, but Paul and Art came out. Paul said "We haven't sung this song live since 1967" to huge applause, and they sang "Leaves That Are Green." ++

The band came back out, and played a perfect, laidback "Feelin' Groovy." They switched out instruments for some weirder ones I can't even name. Art engaged in a bit of physical comedy (I can't even describe it to you here, but it made the whole song more funloving) at the front of the song, and we were primed to explode with laughter. And we did.

They left the stage again. But the houselights didn't come up, so we kept making noise. Lots and lots of noise. We clapped and cheered and woo-hooed and whistled and clapped some more and stomped our feet. Finally they came out one last time. They bowed (even to the people behind the stage) and thanked us. And sang "Mrs. Robinson" again. And it was just as good as the first time.

And what do you know, it was over.


And what do you know, I'll never forget that night.




We hit the memorabilia stand on the way out. The shirts and bags and everything were nice. I coveted them. But oh, how expensive.  And Mom bought me a shirt for Christmas. I love it, but I'm afraid to put it on. What if I get boysenberry jam on it?