Though I’m a fan of the historical importance of its existence, and early Simon & Garfunkel is damn-near perfect, hardcore folk music has always been one of those illusive and rarely sought-after genres I’ve made attempts to all but avoid throughout my “listening career.” It’s my ignorance, really, or my desire to “waste” my time listening to music of much better quality (again, ignorance rears its daft head), but The Kingston Trio’s 1960 album String Along nicely fits this unwelcomed void, so much so that it’s making me question the sadly inevitable, “getting into folk” chapter of my life. Coming as a “must-have” suggestion, mainly for the side 2 track, To Morrow about a small town in Ohio where the “suggester” spent his glory years, I fear this key is unlocking a folk-sized door that my ears (any my patience) have always intended to ignore. A welcoming error in judgement on my part, we’ll see how long this new storm cloud lingers.
It seems around the same time as my Creedence journey, or shortly there after (before?), I stumbled across a record store closing its doors. Everything in the store was half off, so after a solid hour (or four), I walked out with a treasure trove of goodies, including this Simon & Garfunkel 45, The Sounds of Silence b/w Homeward Bound. I remember ALMOST nabbing a Spinal Tap picture disc, that was proudly displayed on the wall (for another few weeks before the doors would be locked for good), but mostly, I remember being the only person in the store, rummaging through unexpected, and quite cheap (and potential) riches. I don’t recall the name of the store, but I’ll never forget the fate that timing allowed.
Back in 1968, record producer and conductor Dominick P. Costa (Don) released a 10-track album of instrumental Simon and Garfunkel songs titled, Don Costa’s Instrumental Versions of Simon and Garfunkel. All the hits are here (Feelin’ Groovy, Mrs. Robinson, I Am A Rock, etc.), and as a whole, Don Costa’s Instrumental Versions of Simon and Garfunkel is a welcoming and approachable take on these unforgettable 1960s classics. Certainly not one for a frequent spin, these 10-tracks come in handy when the subtle weight of S&G have hit their limits.
After about 10 minutes of (deep) internet searching, I discovered that my copy of Simon & Garfunkel’s Sounds of Silence is a second pressing (of the three initial pressings). My copy is the last to feature the Tiger Beat magazine in Art’s jacket pocket. This would be airbrushed out on the third and subsequent pressings. Mine is also a German release, acquired at a storewide going-out-of-business sale some 15 years ago. Copyright states a release date of 1972, some 7 years after the album’s initial release. This doesn’t mean too much, other than now I want to bury myself in Bookends, my personal favorite.
Five great songbooks from the poster boys of pop-folk-rock, Simon & Garfunkel. Complete parts for lead and rhythm guitar and bass for 11 of Simon & Garfunkel’s hits in Songs by Paul Simon – For Guitar, “easy-to-play” arrangements for piano for the entire Bookends album, and Music for Groups, containing lead & rhythm guitar, combo organ, piano, bass and voice! At only $2 a pop, it stands to reason one would logically acquire all five books. Offer expires Dec. 31, 1970, so don’t delay! Bring the joy and pain of Simon & Garfunkel to a casual dinner party near you. Order your copies now!
A few things I didn’t notice about Art Garfunkel’s 1975 Columbia records release, Breakaway. 1) Richard Perry produced it (Mr. Perry is famous for his work with Harry Nilsson), and 2) the track My Little Town has Paul Simon on it, making it a legitimate Simon & Garfunkel song. Their last? Of that I’m not sure, but it’s a good day to find out. Thank you, 42 year old hype sticker!
All this time, I thought Mr. Garfunkel wrote Bridge Over Troubled Water, but apparently, it was Mr. Simon. Perhaps it was Mr. Garfunk’s singing that threw me off, but none-the-less, I learned a bit of music history today in prep for this post. S&G’s last, and most prolific single continues to linger in the lore of pop-classic-rock-radio euphoria, and it’s only been something like, 46 years…
Originally released on 1966’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme by the great Paul & Art, Harpers Bizarre, Santa Cruz, CA’s own pop-rock (and Mt. Dew) favorites, staked their claim in the soil of hip-tified-radio-extravaganza with their cover of 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy) from their debut album, 1967’s Feelin’ Groovy. Feelin’ Groovy? No, seriously… feelin’ pretty damn far-out? Hip your lobes to some Harp Biz, my friend.
(Thanks to the SO for the title… 😉 ) Happy-ily (for those of you who are Vacant Lot fans) Thanksgiving!! The lady had to work today, so tomorrow we’ll be celebrating the Day of Thanks. Currently listening to Johnny Cash’s Greatest hits Volume 1, and yes, “house wives and little girls” aside, (Bruce McCulloch), I hope ever-body done had them-selves a damn-good day! (23.95 lbs this year, btw…)
This morning at 3am, I had the strangest dream. A dream so profoundly abstract, that it made Kandinsky’s Transverse Line look like a paint by numbers kit. It was so vigorous in its execution, yet so childish in its conception. Fights broke out behind my sunless eyes, as I lay physically immobile, yet emotionally writhing with internal conflict.
“War” can mean many things to many people, but its subtext always reads “permanent and coercive regret.” (Raises coffee mug) Here’s hoping the soldiers fighting your personal “war” return home safely and unscathed.
Somber moods cloud the stagnant winter air at the PG office this brisk January evening. Cannibalism within the otherwise serene fresh water aquarium has taken the life of our amphibious friend, the Frog. So, please, take 3:05 and lament with me, Paul and Art over the violent, yet inevitable passing of our office pet. RIP Frog. Your pain is now over. May you enjoy your justly deserved, and bittersweet sounds of silence.
With well wishes a-plenty seemingly BURSTING forth from the generous and thankful hearts belonging to us over here at The Prudent Groove, we hope you all are, at this very moment, stuffing your gullets, as well as your ears, with the wonderful delights of family, friends, food, autumnal music, and the appetizing reflection of all the many things we can all be thankful for. Now, get off the internet and enjoy a drink with your brother, your mother, your 7-year-old nephew, and / or your sweetheart. Thank you for reading and no, you cannot have any of our 21-pound turkey. Sorry… I dig you guys, I sincerely do, but there is a line, and ain’t no man, beast, or lure of a promising future gonna’ come between me and the devilishly delightful overindulgence that is Thanksgiving. Ok, fine, I’ll invite you over for the 7 days of leftovers we’ll undoubtedly, and willingly have. Just be sure to bring the tunes. Deal? Deal.
Happy Thanksgiving to every-one!
You wouldn’t know by listening to it, but it’s actually a pretty short song. Clocking in at only 1:49, April Come She Will is the shortest track on the 1966 masterpiece, Sounds of Silence. Although written by Paul, April’s sweet melodic melon collie was sung by Art. It must have been difficult for Mr. Garfunkel to go to work each day. I mean, sure, Art Garfunkel is great in his own right… great singer, great range, but his partner is Paul freakin’ Simon! One wonders how powerful Simon & Garfunkel would have been without Art. Maybe he was the man behind the successful curtain. Who knows?
April Come She Will is the prefect soundtrack for those moments when you just wished you were somewhere else. Alone, walking between silent, somber trees, or alone, walking amongst a sea of warm strangers, this dreary song reminds us that new eventually becomes old, and judging by the song’s length, how quickly that can happen. A kind of hopeless notion if you think about it.
May April offer you blossoming new beginnings, and may September not rob you of the aging beauty of those beginnings. Old doesn’t need to lose its alluring frenzy. We just need to be reminded of how new it once was. Here’s hoping September doesn’t forget to remind us.