November 2000
First, let’s dispense with the obvious. Yes, the musical globetrotting is gone. In its place, Simon is crafting songs that subtly draw on his world-music experiments, with propulsive and pronounced rhythms and several choruses full of tongue-twisting combinations of sounds and syllables. But the songs themselves are built on guitar, bass and drums, with bamboo flute, pump organ and vihuela as spice and not the main course -- which is just as well since the lyrics are the album’s focus. And what lyrics! When Bob Dylan, Simon’s other half in 1999’s oddball touring combo, faced down death, the result was a dark masterpiece, Time Out Of Mind. Here Simon faces the same questions and, instead of gathering darkness, finds perspective, hard-won wisdom and peace. And he’s not mouthing soft-headed platitudes, or speaking from the sidelines; instead, he testifies with the distillation of nearly 60 years of living, with the humility of a scarred, often-defeated, but always honorable, soldier. For example, "Old" begins with Simon’s straightforward declaration of age, "the first time I heard ‘Peggy Sue’ I was 12 years old," and the joy his friends take in reminding him of it. Where Bruce Springsteen would turn this into "Glory Days Pt. II," Simon gains perspective by backing up, pointing out how long ago Jesus, Buddha and Mohammed walked the earth -- and even more, that humans were around long before that. And before that, the world. And before that, God. The key line though, the one thing Simon has learned with age, is dropped innocuously in the middle of the song: "Disagreements? Work ‘em out." Perhaps it really is that basic and simple, at least when you have the perspective of all those battles. Love gets the same treatment. In the title tune, Simon's simple declaration, "you’re the one," mutates into "you’re the one, you broke my heart," and finally to "when I hear it from the other side it’s a completely different song." "Love," gently points out that the only thing worth having, even though we abuse it and forget it, is love. You’re The One is filled with elegiac dignity, hard-won but simply offered wisdom, and sincere gentleness, but perhaps never as succinctly as on the last track, "Quiet." Against a pump-organ background, Simon composes an eulogy of rare, luminous beauty. Reminding us that life asks more than we can deliver, he also points out the dignity of the trial, as well as the importance of remaining true to self. Simple truths, yes, but so simple that they are the first ones to be lost in the chaos of life, and, thus, are the ones we most need to be reminded of. GO BACK TO: |
Paul Simon - You're the One
![[Reviewed on CD]](../format/regcd.gif)
A
decade ago Paul Simon gave us his last true studio album, The Rhythm Of The Saints.
That album, and its predecessor, Graceland, introduced many North Americans to
third-world musical hybrids as Simon brilliantly incorporated South African and, later,
West African and Caribbean musical styles, musicians and instruments into his perfectly
crafted folk and pop tunes. Hidden among the fresh sound and drive of the music on these
albums was a new lyrical viewpoint -- one which had gradually changed from Simon’s
early ‘70s hopeful, artsy stance to become wistful and, even, by The Rhythm Of The
Saints, world-weary, angry, and cynical. OK, we’re not talking Sex Pistols-level
anger, but even so, the man who had given us "Mother and Child Reunion,"
"St. Judy’s Comet" and "Loves Me Like A Rock" was now telling us
that he could no longer sleep through the night, felt anger that no one could heal and
even cynically observed that suffering and hunger might have a cash value. All of which
makes the exquisite and gentle perspective of You’re The One even more
stunning. And perspective is exactly the word to describe what Simon brings to this album.