Friday, 1 June 2018

HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND : ART GARFUNKEL, ROYAL ALBERT HALL, 31.05.18




Meandering through the all-too-familiar songbook, the voice is fractured, frail and wanting. He talks more than he sings, that old Artie arrogance rearing as he reads out self-penned poems from random sheets, the verses lauding the great blessed life he leads. 'Scarborough Fair', he imparts, is a song he always thought of as 'lovely wallpaper', only realising lately that it is a lament 'about loss. Because we've all lost HER. We all know what that kind of loss is about.' 'Kathy's Song' is pre-ambled with tangled musings. 'The Sound of Silence', Paul Simon's 1964 reckoning about the assassination of JFK, is a wisp of its once magical self. 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' is so epic in all our hearts and minds that I wish he hadn't crossed it by himself. Then '99 Miles to LA', via which he at last rises to the occasion, and echoes the greatness of yore in this great hall.
We didn't get 'Mrs Robinson', 'Song for the Asking', 'The 59th Street Bridge Song', 'The Boxer', or 'The Only Living Boy in New York'. I guess too much epic past is too much for a worn-out heart.
Why do this, then? Seventy-six is seventy-six. Touring and live performing are the most challenging aspects of being a musician. Why not stay home with Kathryn, the beautiful wife he calls 'Kim', and with Beau Daniel, the second son born to them via a surrogate mother, a brother for James, the little apple of their eyes, the everything to live for?
I'm not saying that this was not worth seeing, not worth hearing. Because we rock up for these gigs and what we experience, deep in our souls, is what we want to remember. We are not hearing Arthur (as he refers to himself often, in the third person) as he sounds now, but as he sounded then. We are right there, at the immense reunion concert in Central Park in 1981.
There are times when we shouldn't go back. But how do we know, unless we do so, unless we lend a willing ear? I am always moved by live music, but felt curiously unmoved by this legend whose unique, haunting, blood-stopping voice I have long loved. And then, the moment. A preamble about creatures, and about singing to cows. And without introduction, the ghostly opening bars of one of the most perfect songs of all time: 'Bright Eyes'.
He dedicates it, thankfully, to its creator: our dear Mike Batt. He wonders aloud to his adoring audience whether Mike is in the house. Art should have known whether or not he was. He should have invited him. He should have brought Mike up on stage and thanked him personally for the greatest gift of his career. It is the single song that will carry Art Garfunkel forward into the centuries to come. Thank God Mike wrote it. Thank God Art sang it. Enough.

2 comments:

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    1. Apparently he did. We got held up by security on the way in, and missed it. Damn.

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