| by Justin Pearsall | |||
| Mon:24-Sep-07 | |||
In title, Bridge Over Troubled Water encapsulates the fragmentation of America’s youthful dream, documenting the demise of the sixties counterculture and the continued cloud of the Vietnam War and a Nixon-led existence. For the music scene as well the darker side of this metaphor would prove apt; the initial hysteria of the rock ‘n’ roll revolution, an arguably its creative apex, terminating with the death of Hendrix, the breaking of The Beatles and the demise of Simon & Garfunkel.
But the concept of a Bridge Over Troubled Water is two dimensional, both metaphorically and artistically. And while uncertainty and doubt shadowed a post-Beatles, post-Woodstock, post-JFK world, Simon & Garfunkel’s final album paired any need to brood, to lament the duo’s own troubled times, with an optimism and celebration of the past. It fused the obvious realities of the times and the disintegration of the pair’s relationship with the beauty of forlorn teenage love, the pride of man and a soaring hymn of hope. This soaring hymn, the album’s opening song and title track, is a breathtaking example of the power and dynamic variation in Art Garfunkel’s voice and the songwriting acumen of Paul Simon. Garfunkel’s restrained, floating delivery of the initial verses rises to the song’s tense and magnificent crescendo. While Simon has admitted regret in allowing Garfunkel the vocal solo, it is difficult to imagine his falsetto matching the intensity of a near-breaking-point Garfunkel as he delivers the final note over the descending piano line. However, Simon, as songwriter, need not worry about his partner’s blueprint on ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’, the force of the track is as much driven by its flawless construction and inspiring lyricism as by the might of its melodic delivery: “When you’re down and out/When you’re on the street/When evening falls so hard/I will comfort you/I’ll take your part”. Any arguments concerning the thematic importance of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’’s hopeful message is strengthened by not only its own success, the song reached number one in both the US and UK, but also by the thematic continuity between it and its chart successor, McCartney’s gospel anthem ‘Let It Be’. While both tracks are elegant examples of melody and concise songwriting, the religious metaphors central to each resonated on a deeper level than the standard pop fare. And although McCartney and Simon may have writing their respective songs for cathartic reasons, both were dealing with the demise of their bands, their words and melodies possess a redemptive power that outgrew solely personal effect. ‘The Boxer’ achieves similar personal/public translation. Simon’s intended autobiographical statement, one that compared his own songwriting journey with that of the boxer, is served well by its open interpretation, the non-specific nature of the troubadour’s story allowing the listener to empathise with the boxer’s flawed yet dignified humanity: “And he carries the reminders/Of ev’ry glove that laid him down/Or cut him till he cried out/In his anger and his shame/ ‘I am leaving, I am leaving’/But the fighter still remains.” The metamorphosis that takes the song’s largely acoustic and harmony-driven foundations and layers them in galloping rhythms, pedal steel guitar and swirling strings highlights not only the advanced production skills the duo showcased over their final two albums, but also a willingness to experiment past their folk origins, a trait that Simon would continue to explore in his imminent solo career. The best known and most loved tracks from the record ‘The Boxer’ and ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ may lead the casual observer to deem Bridge Over Troubled Water as a purely serious artistic statement. However its remaining highlights are predominately drawn from fun lovin’ blues and sing-along pop anthems. ‘Cecilia’ is both thematically and musically simple, qualities that add to its instant accessibility. The song’s twist is Simon’s cheeky depiction of oral sex and sexual promiscuity (“Up in my bedroom/I got up to wash my face/When I come back to bed/Someone’s taken my place), veiled by the age old quandary of lust and love: “Celia, you’re breaking my heart/You’re shaking my confidence daily” and the track’s campfire feel. Similarly ‘Baby Driver’ messes a coming-of-age story with a lustfulness (“There’s no one home, we’re all alone/Oh come to my room and play”) punctuated by the track’s rollicking feel (the song actually accelerating to it’s conclusion) and saxophone solo. While Bridge Over Troubled Water’s fusion of styles and themes, and the unquestionable brilliance of its singles, led many to deem the record as the duo’s masterwork, it is not as consistent as its predecessor Bookends, Simon & Garfunkel’s best. While Bridge Over Troubled Water’s production is stronger, its singles more mountainous and its lyricism better honed, it’s legacy is weakened by a lack of flow, possibly due to the creative tension shadowing the album and Simon’s extended writer’s block. Yet, 37 years on, it is still a classic record. And while it succeeds in songs, performance and influence, its greatest achievement may just be its strange and continued ability to offer hope and illumination, both qualities as necessary today as they were in 1970. |
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