The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel

Posted on by Opher

There’s a line in this song that always stands out for me. Paul Simon wrote:

A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest

I think that is so true. We all get fixed in our mental states and find it hard to keep an open mind.

We all sell off our resistance for a pocket full of mumbles. It’s all lies.

We all get beaten. It’s about picking ourselves back up from the canvas to fight again.

“The Boxer”

I am just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of a railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie-la-lie…

Asking only workman’s wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie-la-lie…

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me
Leading me
Going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the remainders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains

Lie-la-lie…

Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall – Simon and Garfunkel

Posted on by Opher

Back in the sixties I was very much into contemporary folk music – still am. I liked the poetry and stridency of Dylan, Roy Harper and Bert Jansch. I also like Simon and Garfunkel though I was a little snooty and thought that they tended to be too light and poppy.

Folk music had moved out of the realm of love songs and was talking about all manner of issues in novel, poetic ways. Nothing was taboo. Life, sex, race, war, religion and death were all fair game. The structure of songs was up for grabs too.

Paul Simon was a great songwriter. He had an ear for melody, a precision with words and his voice harmonised with Art’s perfectly. It created a very pleasing sound while the poetry provided grist for the mind to mill.

I loved Paul’s first solo album – The Paul Simon Songbook. It was more Paul with his guitar and basic production. Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall was on that and it made me ponder. I was a young teenager at the time and these words spoke to me of the confusion I was feeling, who was I? What did I really Believe? What was life about? What was right and what was wrong? I was searching for meaning and still building my persona. It was a bit of the butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. I was young. Death was a long way off but I knew it was there. I’d already had friends who were gone. I was very idealistic and passionate. This is a song I used to put on in my room and listen to. It spoke to me and was beautiful.

“Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall”

Through the corridors of sleep
Past the shadows dark and deep
My mind dances and leaps in confusion.
I don’t know what is real,
I can’t touch what I feel
And I hide behind the shield of my illusion.

So I’ll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall.

The mirror on my wall
Casts an image dark and small
But I’m not sure at all it’s my reflection.
I am blinded by the light
Of God and truth and right
And I wander in the night without direction.

So I’ll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall.

It’s no matter if you’re born
To play the King or pawn
For the line is thinly drawn ‘tween joy and sorrow,
So my fantasy
Becomes reality,
And I must be what I must be and face tomorrow.

So I’ll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall.

The Simon and Garfunkel Story.

Posted on by Opher

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Having just stated that I do not like Tribute Acts in the least – I find myself going off to see one!

I persuaded myself that it wasn’t a tribute act at all. It was a stage performance. It was acting and it was telling the story. It had been on the West End. It was supposed to be a good production. I think it was the promise of historical film extracts that finally persuaded me.

I enjoyed it. Both guys were exceptionally good at the songs and music. They got it spot-on. But more importantly for me – it told the story and put it in context with the times.

Simon and Garfunkel are not my favourite act. I really like Paul Simon’s first album – the Paul Simon Songbook – I must have bought that when I was sixteen. I did like their work as a duo but at times it did get a bit too mainstream and commercial for me. But then I’m being sniffy. They were very good.

As we came out of the show we both remarked that the performances had been faultless and both agreed that it would have been far superior to see the real thing, old and world-weary, doing a highly flawed concert instead.

A stage production can only take you part-way there. You can’t better the real thing. I’m glad I got to see so many of the real guys perform (and at their very peak!).

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Ruminations around the lyrics of the Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel.

Posted on by Opher

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‘I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest’

There are times when a song conveys a truth to me that nothing else does. The words of this song do that for me. Paul Simon hits the spot. His lyrics are poetry.

I think we all hear what we want to hear and disregard the rest. We live in a bubble that reflects our own attitudes back at us. We select the things we listen to and watch. We put our slant on all we see and hear. We listen to the arguments that reinforce the views we hold. We buy in to the lies we are told and still naively believe the promises.

‘Now the years are rolling by me
They are rocking evenly
And I am older than I once was
And younger than I’ll be
But that’s not unusual
No, it isn’t strange
After changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes we are
More or less the same’

I often feel that despite all the knocks, disappointments, betrayals, disclosures, realisations and lies I am still the same naïve person I was. I am still the idealist who believes we can make things better. I haven’t changed that much. I’m just older and wiser and a lot more cynical. I’m a little bit more depressed and a bit more desperate.

It seems strange to me.

‘In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains’

Life is a bit of a battle. We carry the scars. But there are things worth fighting for, things worth believing in. There is hope. There is love and there is creativity.

We stand up for what we believe. We speak our mind. We take the consequences.

The moment I stop striving is the moment I am dead.