I went to see Paul Simon in concert last month and I should probably write about it before I forget entirely. It was in Prague, and it was very expensive for Prague, but I’m not poor and I have an ongoing regret that I never saw Leonard Cohen and I never have seen Paul Simon and I can fix one of those things.

He cannot really sing well anymore and he doesn’t seem able to play the guitar very well (there were two other guitarists on stage who I think were largely playing to cover his missed chords). That is okay, because I did not love him for his voice or his guitar, I loved him for the poetry, and that tends to age well. 

He started by playing his latest album in its entirety. It is not my favorite album. It’s not poetry, it’s prayer, and I know there’s overlap but there is nothing in that album that sets my heart on fire, nothing that gives me that “whoa” reaction. I think when you’re 80 (actually whenever) it’s absolutely okay for you to write an album about confronting your own mortality, and this feels like this. There’s nothing “catchy” in it, and if that was what you loved about Simon (it was one of the things I loved) that’s a bummer. But my problem is more that it’s lyrically dull. 

After that he played some of his hits, of which he has many. There was a sweet moment when he gave a capo back to a Czech woman he’d borrowed it from in 1990. It was cool to see and hear Edie Brickell and her voice lent a lovely layer to his vocals on a few songs. But I left the concert feeling a lack of grace or graciousness. 

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, about ego and gender and age and fame. About how we are all self made, we are all our own creation. At the same time, I think it’s really important to acknowledge the influences, good and bad, that led to how we steered our vessel. Like it’s nobody’s fault but yours, it’s nobody’s credit but yours how you got where you are, but there’s something very off-putting to me when people don’t say what hindered or -more important to me- what helped. And I think some people are more likely to see this and say it, personally and professionally. Maybe it’s a gender thing, maybe it’s an age thing, maybe it’s up to the person, dunno. I do know that Simon’s failure to acknowledge his influences and his indebtedness to the other performers on stage during or after his 30 minute offering on his own mortality felt more like demanding an indulgence that offering a prayer. 

I’m glad I went. I’m glad I saw it; I’d rather know what I think than wonder what I missed. And he’s given me so much, elegant lines, gorgeous images, intriguing glimpses through windows of different worlds, beauty. It’s okay if all he’s given me are memories; the art is enough.