Last night Art Garfunkel had what he calls “a rehearsal” in
an intimate (300 sold-out seats) performance space in West Hartford,
Connecticut. The first few moments
after he walked onstage and sat down next to his guitarist/accompaniment were
tense. The hush betrayed our expectation of the worst, considering his
terrifying loss of voice and recent struggle to regain it. He launched into an almost whispered
delivery of “April Come She Will” and suddenly the entire room was in his hands
and remained there throughout the evening, as he delivered some classic Simon
and Garfunkel songs, read us some of his soon to be published poetry, talked
about the good fortune of his musical life, the joys of his married life and
parenthood, and graciously took questions from the audience.
He described the loss of his voice by calling it mysterious
and beyond the explanation of doctors who are now encouraging him to exercise
his singing voice as the best way to retrieve it. Hence a series of
“rehearsals” in front of small groups. He said that a few years ago, he had
gone to Nairobi to perform at one of those private parties thrown by someone
wealthy enough to fly in a singing legend for the evening. Upon returning to
New York City, he had dinner at The Palm where he ordered the lobster, a shred
of which became lodged in his vocal chords. He managed to cough it out, but a
couple of weeks later he realized that his singing voice was gone. It seems
that the medical explanation is that the two sides of the vocal chord are not
matching up correctly. He is on the mend, but the mechanical limitations of his
voice were heart-breaking at those moments when it was clear that he couldn’t
hit the note he wanted to hit. His second song of the night, For Emily,
Wherever I May Find Her, proved that once he is in gear, he can still do
justice to his classic material. From that moment on, we knew that with
practice and courage (something he has heaps of) he will get his voice back.
Meanwhile, you could read the constant rapture on the faces of the audience as
he guided us through the songs of our life. (Yes, this was an audience of a certain
age. Art Garfunkel is 71!)
A word about his poetry. It is very good. He admitted to
having been writing little snippets of things for quite a while. He wasn’t sure
how they might be received but is encouraged by Knopf’s desire to publish
them. I especially loved his description
of his young son Beau rolling a globe around the house while Art embraces his
wife in bed. Each poem was packed like a good lunch assembled for a knapsack
and a day trip with just enough clean, strong imagery and wisdom to make
exactly one point beautifully.
During the Q&A, my husband asked Art Garfunkel who his earliest
vocal influences were. Without hesitation he put Chet Baker on the top of his
list. He added Johnny Mathis and James Taylor.
Before the performance, we speculated about how Art Garfunkel
would deliver material that is inextricable from Paul Simon. He took apart what he says is his
favorite of their hits, Scarborough Fair, singing first that
root song and then the song woven into it, Canticle, the second song Paul Simon
ever wrote and one that was never released on its own.
In the space between songs, he fascinated his audience with
reminiscences of being in the studio and laying down the tracks of some of their
hits. He makes the very wise distinction between his talent and that of Paul
Simon. Paul is a song-writer and Art is a record-maker. Their collaboration was
a perfect fusion of those talents. They remain friends. Art Garfunkel is open
to the possibility of performing with Paul Simon again someday. I will be there
when they do. Meanwhile, the most painful part of listening to Art Garfunkel
perform live is the need to politely refrain from singing along with him. It
was obvious that this pain was shared by everyone attending his dazzling
“rehearsal.’
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