Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Paul Simon Is An Asshole

Paul Simon, former songwriter and backup singer for the duo Simon & Garfunkel, completely embarrassed himself trying to sing the 1970 Simon & Garfunkel classic Bridge Over Troubled Water at the Democratic Convention in Philadelphia last night.

The song, a challenge for anyone, was originally sung mainly by Art Garfunkel. Supposedly the seeds for the break-up of the duo were planted with Simon seething on the side of the stage (as people marveled at Art's vocalization on Bridge): "Yeah, I wrote this!!!! He just sings it!..."

If only Arty had been called up to come to Philadelphia for a reunion of the famed duo. He could have done this song justice...

But Simon probably put the kibosh on that, even though that would have been a better metaphor for the alleged bridge-building going on between the forces of Hillary and the Berners.

Besides spending decades disparaging Garfunkel, Simon has also been accused of ripping off Los Lobos on The Myth of Fingerprints, and there are numerous tales over the years of him being rude to random people, especially underlings.

I worked at an event where Paul was one of the performers. I passed him backstage, well before the show started. There was no one else around and nothing was going on at the time. Our eyes met and I said "hello". He did not answer and stared into the distance. The amount of energy it would have taken him to say "hello" or nod his head was infinitesimal, compared to the amount of ill will this snub generated in a one-time fan.

That's just one person's anecdote. But multiply that by the scores of similar tales told over time, and the picture emerges of an egomaniacal singer who can no longer sing, which is about as flattering as Simon's comb-over at this point.

1 comment:

  1. Many, many years ago I walked into Manny's Music in Manhattan just after they'd opened for business in the morning. I was looking for a new 12 string guitar and there was Simon playing the exact instrument I was considering. I thought it no big deal at the time (I'd not realized I was in the presence of deity) and asked him what he thought of that particular instrument. He turned toward me and his look was one of outrage and incredulity. I was much younger then and said something like "Oh excuse me. I forgot to genuflect." Maybe he was working on a song in his head or something, and I'd spoiled his concentration, but his reaction seemed rather harsh.