Contra

One of my favourite albums is Paul Simon's solo debut, Paul Simon. I've yet to digest most of his subsequent solo work, though it is all assuredly on the To-Do List (It's a playlist I have on iTunes). What I have listened to is Graceland, and I've also listened to Negotiations and Love Songs, a best of. Between those two, I can hear precisely where Vampire Weekend are coming from on Contra, their sophomore album out a few weeks ago.

I'll start this by saying that I haven't listened to their first album yet. It, too, is on the To-Do List. But that may have worked out to their advantage here. Whilst I've read many reviews for this album, the major point of contention seems to be in regards to how it stacks up against their first album. It's either an appropriate artistic evolution, or it's less catchy. These are, I'll point out, often the same coin, viewed from different sides. One man's mature is another man's boring.

Being (mostly) devoid of a sense of their evolution, I find this to be a very pleasant, well, pastiche, really. It's all a bit Simon, but that's not a bad thing. We could use more of his influence in modern music. His song structures were winding and nubile, and, so long as you were paying attention, when he was at his best you could never call him boring. He also had a way with gentle, meandering melodies, which populate this album in all corners. What's crucial is that the boys don't sound like they had to work at it; Simon's melodies are the sort which will only work if you don't force them.

There's nothing here that's as much a shot in the arm as "A-Punk," sure, but "Cousins" is probably more invigorating. It doesn't stay with you for as long, but it's more muscle and sinew, two of my favourite words to apply to this kind of music. The rest of the album is more gentle, but its sound is a unique (if clearly derivative) one, and that's what most of us are looking for. The thing about derivative sounds is while we constantly claim to seek new things, we don't really want anything completely new. We want that recognition and familiarity of the old with a new spin. And that's exactly what you'll get here.

Provided you like Paul Simon. Which, fortunately enough, I do.

*A post-script to this review; As I've listened more, the lyrics have worn at me. Horribly. And I've also found the melodies slightly less involving each time through. I've downgraded this from a B+ to a B.

Paul Simon

Paul Simon
(1972)

Paul Simon, the eponymous solo debut by Simon & Garfunkel mastermind Paul Simon (I say all this like you don't know who he is... *shakes head*), is the only album I can credit with having saved my life. In December and January of this past winter, Paul Simon preserved my sanity. I'll spare you the details and simply note that I was in a bad place. I was in a very, very bad relationship, and I was alone in Chicago for five weeks. There were three-or-four day stretches when I would not see even the hall outside my apartment door. These were not high times. I wrote an unprecedented amount of material in those five weeks; between the solitude and the ever-shifting emotional space I occupied, it was a prolific period, certainly. I threw myself as fully into my work as I ever have, and that was very rewarding, but the writing I did in that period was intensely personal, and required me to stare straight in the face of the very things which were tearing me apart inside. The only thing that brought me back at the end of each day, and every day ended with me frustrated, exhausted, and unable to stop thinking, was listening to Paul Simon as I fell asleep, night after night.

I often listened to it during the day, as well. I listened to it three or four times a day, on occasion, though I usually did my best to restrict the habit to once a night, when it was a balm, a salve to my sanity. During the day, it simply kept me from falling apart entirely. Any time I felt myself losing what composure I had, I put it on, and it would stop the bleeding, if only for a few hours. But, at night, laying in bed, with nothing to focus on but breathing and the music, it took on a healing power I've never found in any other music. Everything was alright, everything would work out, and I was going to survive this.

To be fair, I'd never been in as intense a situation as I was at that time, and, if Paul Simon hadn't been there, I'm sure I would have found something else. But it was there, and it was all I needed. I didn't have much else in the way of input during that time; television, movies, and all other music allowed my mind to wander, and I found it hard to focus. Books weren't even close to an option. I couldn't focus for a sentence. When I wasn't writing, I was probably listening to Paul Simon.

Not surprisingly, once that period was over, I didn't listen to it much. It wasn't a conscious choice, but there's no sense in arguing that I wouldn't have found the emotions attached to it overwhelming and unpleasant. It became a sort of talisman, a box in which I poured everything negative from that time, and I left it on the shelf, afraid to touch it, to disturb what was inside. I remembered the important role it played, but the music was lost in the shuffle. So to speak.

A little over a week ago, due to circumstances in my life which have brought the tail end of that chapter to a close, I listened to Paul Simon for the first time in eight months. Every note of it was still familiar to me, I could sing every word; it was almost as if the album had never left, but, this time, it wasn't serving a function. It was there to be enjoyed, not to be relied on. And I discovered, rediscovered, how truly amazing a piece of work it really is.

On a technical level, I'm only now really appreciating all there is to appreciate about it. It was a blanket before. Now it's a tapestry. There is a remarkable, subtle variety to the songs here; it was meant to be appreciated as a whole, and that shows, as the songs are all dissimilar yet still familiar with one another. Paul Simon's voice is calming, weary, withdrawn even; he wrote the album in the aftermath of a divorce, and the sadness, hurt, resolve, and real, true pain are all found throughout these songs, without ever being reduced to a cliche. He manages to dissect the pains of dissolved love with a combination of empathy and intelligence which many strive for, but almost none achieve.

I bought the LP today, as I've only ever heard it as mp3s. The fullness of the sound, and the details I could hear, as this thing which was so familiar and important to me took on a whole new beauty and quality, a whole new existence, almost brought me to tears. I can't recommend it enough.