WaPo on ‘Homeward Bound’: “Brisk, engaging…lucid and evocative.”

wapo

“The alchemy of pop stardom is a curious process, and few stories are as unlikely and as absorbing as that of the Jewish kid from Queens turned folk superstar. Fresh off 2012’s “Bruce,” his take on another quintessentially American subject, Carlin provides a brisk and engaging overview of Simon’s career and protean musical output.”

 

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#homewardbound
#henryholt
#artgarfunkel
#culturalappropriation

Is Paul Simon a poet?

Not according to Paul Simon…at least, that’s what he said earlier in his career. Think he still feels that way now that Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature? Consult this latest trailer for Homeward Bound.

Homeward Bound
The Life of Paul Simon

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What did Artie Garfunkel do, anyway?

 

 

artie-paul
More than you think, probably. And so check this out: another in a series of video trailers for “Outward Bound: The Life of Paul Simon.” Shot, directed and edited by Mikel Chase, these film-lets are chock full-o fun and little known info from the book!

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#homewardbound:thelifeofpaulsimon
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‘Homeward Bound’ in Newsweek

sosgroovey
Nearly everything you want to know about Paul Simon’s immediate reaction to the electrified “Sound of Silence”‘s leap to the top of the charts — most of which took place when he was living and performing in London — will be published in a Homeward Bound excerpt to be published in the October 28, 2016 issue.

Here’s a sneak peek!

http://www.newsweek.com/2016/10/28/simon-and-garfunkel-sound-silence-homeward-bound-511391.html

 

 

 

 

 

Homeward Bound
The Life of Paul Simon

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Nobel Special: When Bob Dylan laughed at Simon & Garfunkel

bob-and-paul

When Bob Dylan wins the Nobel Prize for Literature on Paul Simon’s 75th birthday it’s fun to remember how linked their careers have been over the years. Along with the same record label, producer and musical backdrop they also shared a reflexive suspicion, even antipathy, for one another. Paul would go on to criticize Dylan regularly during the 1960s, most memorably in his sarcastic homage, “A Simple Desultory Philippic,” recorded first for his UK solo album The Paul Simon Songbook, then re-recored for Simon & Garfunkel’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Here’s part of the reason why:

The night before the final recording session, Paul and Artie played their first scheduled show at Gerde’s Folk City. It was their first major appearance since they started recording for Columbia and to stir up excitement (Columbia producer) Tom Wilson rallied some of his hipper friends and colleagues to the show. The producer was there, of course, as was Barry Kornfeld and some of his living room regulars. But the real prize was Bob Dylan himself. He came a little late, perching at the bar next to the influential New York Times music critic Robert Shelton. They’d had a few drinks. Maybe they’d blown a little grass. Whatever, he was laughing. Hand in front of mouth, head down, shoulders heaving. Haw-haw-haw, ohmygod. And you could hear it. Paul and Artie played in a hush. One guitar, two voices and delicate strands of melody and harmony. The power was as much between the notes as in the notes themselves and it begged close listening. And everyone knew that beaky high plains honk.

Haw-haw!

In a career whose every twitch and twang has been anatomized for personal, literary, political and Biblical magnitude, the meaning of that Dylan guffaw remains cloaked in mystery. Shelton went to his grave insisting that the laughter — he was giggling too, only more quietly — had nothing to do with what was happening on the stage. That whatever had spurred the giggle fit was completely detached from Paul and Artie’s performance. It was just bad timing that whatever they were talking about, and Shelton never identified what it was, had popped their corks.

But there was more to Shelton’s story. Dylan and Paul had met for the first time only days earlier, and the encounter had gone badly. Despite having so much in common, including extended visits with the same folk musicians in London, Paul and Dylan couldn’t find anything to say to each other. So they traded the smallest of small talk. Neither pretended to be delighted, or even all that interested, in meeting the other.

Oh yeah, how’s it going, I heard you were around, you’re Kornfeld’s friend, right? So, yeah. Hi. Okay.

Then back to their separate corners, separate friends and separate visions of the world and their rightful position within it. And maybe it was the same place. And maybe there was only room for one of them. Which may be why Shelton described that fast-approaching night at Gerde’s as “an encounter typical of New York’s paranoia and instant rivalries.” Which makes his claims of innocent snickering seem a wee bit less convincing.

Homeward Bound
The Life of Paul Simon

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