“Homesick” by the Kings Of Convenience is a song I’ve put on several mix CDs over the years. Not intentionally. But when I’m looking for that one extra something to round out a mix, there are a few go-to tracks I always seem to grab. “Homesick” is one. “Jenny Wren” by McCartney is another. “Never Going Back Again” by Fleetwood Mac is a favorite. Strange, those three songs seem like musical cousins, don’t they? Anyway, at one point, I owned the Kings Of Convenience album, Riot On An Empty Street, but “Homesick” is the only song from it that has endured for me. It’s such an obvious tribute to Simon & Garfunkel that I can’t help but love it. The close-miked acoustic fingerpicking, the precise vocal harmonies, and the feeling that the singers are wearing cable-knit sweaters and solemn expressions on their faces as they sing it. Even the opening lines make it clear who the song is about:
I lose some sales and my boss won’t be happy
But I can’t stop listening to the sound
Of two soft voices rendered in perfection
From the reels of this record that I found
“Two soft voices rendered in perfection” is a concise, poetic description of what Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel gave us over the course of their years together. I watched an interview with Simon on YouTube the other night where he was talking about writing songs in 1966. He said that he was twenty-four, he had an open heart, and his concerns were the same as most of the people listening to Simon & Garfunkel. That made it easy to communicate through his songs. Easier than it would ever be again, he said. That really resonated with me. It’s not so much that songwriting gets more difficult as you go on, but staying connected with an audience does. Especially when the audience has a tendency to wander off and care less passionately about pop records and your newest work.
I went to hear Paul Simon at the Ryman last week. It was an amazing concert, and Simon constructed his long, generous set with an ear towards pleasing everyone. He delivered the hits – “Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover,” “Slip Slidin’ Away,” “Kodachrome,” Still Crazy After All These Years” and more. He pulled out some unexpected album tracks – “Peace Like A River,” “Gumboots,” “The Only Living Boy In New York.” And these he mixed with songs from his latest record, So Beautiful Or So What. But inevitably, whenever he played a new tune, the baby boomers seated near me would get restless and start to talk. “Is this another new song?” some guy said, with obvious annoyance in his voice.
On one hand, I understand this reaction. You pay $90 for a ticket to Paul Simon, and you want him to do your favorite songs. But remember why you loved Paul Simon in the first place. He’s an artist who constantly brought you new, interesting material. He brought you insights into your own life. And while the quality of work from many of his musical contemporaries has declined over the years, Simon is still making vital, compelling music. I think as a fan you owe it to him to pay attention and give his new songs a chance. The irony is that the songs that these restless boomers were ignoring were the very ones that would probably speak to them as they are now. Simon is writing about mortality and God and finding meaning in the smallest things. But I think a lot of people are looking to recapture a feeling they had in their youth. They’re nostalgic. To borrow the Kings Of Convenience song title, they’re homesick.
No big message here, just an observation, and a plug for that great Kings Of Convenience song and Paul Simon’s new album.
