As you may or may not be aware, the bit with Friday Flash Reviews is that the TNOCS.com admin picks a category and the community votes up the song they want reviewed within said category.
This week’s voting category was “The absolute best, deep cut Simon & Garfunkel song.”
The community must not be primarily British as “America” reached all the way up to 25 on the UK Singles chart in 1972 (the first time they released it as a B-side in 1968, it didn’t chart anywhere).
But I suppose it fits the criteria of a “deep cut” in the States, despite the fact that it cracking the Billboard Hot 100, as it only reached #97. Given its continual utility ranging from being used in movies, political campaigns, and commercials over the decades, it’s a bit surprising that it only reached #97 in hindsight.
Something I did not expect to report when I started researching this song is that the band Yes’ truly wild cover of “America” eclipsed Simon & Garfunkel’s chart reach by scaling all the way up to #47 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the same year.
Wait, the Yes cover more than doubled the Billboard ranking of the original?
Yeah, baby. I know you’re curious. Wanna taste of something weird? As long as you promise you’re sitting down and mellow like jell-o, here’s the (relatively-tame-compared-to-the-sprawling-10-minute-album-version) radio edit of Yes’ take on “America:”
Not going to lie: I feel the need for a mint (or maybe a listen to the original track) to cleanse my palate of that cover.
The Friday Flash “Gut Take” Review:
I’m not sure if there’s any three-and-a-half minute piece of music that so earnestly, ineffably, timelessly, and efficiently captures the angsty, communally lonely essence of (young, white, and middle class) America.
I think it’s worth breaking down each adjective used above to better explain the power on display here:
- Earnest: Though the narrator does come off as whimsical in some moments (“Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera”), we learn soon enough that these moments of whimsy are in fact distractions (“I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why”).
- Ineffable: While “America” paints a clear picture of a young couple on a bus, it simultaneously paints a much broader picture of how this young couple — and by implication everyone on the bus and likely beyond — is in fact trapped by deep levels of existential ennui.
- Timeless: What’s really stunning is that this song was written back in late 1960s, yet the dynamics at play felt just as relevant to me when I was in my 20s as they do now that I’m in my 50s. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
- Efficient: The song is only 3½ minutes, yet it somehow crams five verses into that time. This gives “America” the ability to look at a single scene and analyze it from multiple angles, and reveal something new about the narrator in each verse.
And, yeah, about those adjectives:
they’re only describing the friggin’ lyrics. There’s also an entire music track behind these stunning lyrics that delivers pretty stunning sonic presence and dynamics to the table for a song released in 1968. Timeless certainly applies to the music, too.
“America” is a unique and truly special song: it connects a simple story to a complicated message to a potent musical track in ways that few songs ever have.
In-a-Flash score: 10/10
The Friday Flash “Deep Dive” Review
Production: 9/10
The impossibly-clean acoustic guitars drive the groove, but they are punctuated by a host of different characters (and, yes, they sound like characters), in order of appearance: a cool-chorused electric guitar, “gated” tom-toms (likely actually recorded in a cathedral to get that effect), a Hammond organ, a bass guitar that prefers to play in its upper range, a full drum kit, and, of course, a soprano saxophone that, as apparently is the nature of the soprano saxophone, doesn’t mind competing with the vocalist for attention (more on that in the songwriting section).
The counterpoint that the “chorused” electric guitar brings in the beginning adds so much to the richness of the musical tapestry, as do the dramatic stabs of the tom-toms throughout the song.
And, of course, the organ helping build audible tension until full organ release in the final chorus gives the song a dramatically emphatic ending. Powerful stuff.
Atop of this cast of instrumental characters are the vocals, which are perfectly mixed such that every syllable can be understood in virtually any listening situation.
And this is clutch: this song is one of the most lyrically-driven songs written. The musical aspect of this song is simply a tapestry for the lyrics to live on.
Other than its folk-rock stylings, the specific Hammond organ sounds, and the obviously non-digital reverb/gating in the tom-toms, the production sounds remarkably clean and, dare I say, contemporary. It’s a joy to listen to quiet or loud, and it stands the test of time.
Songwriting/melody: 10/10
The good folks over at Hooktheory.com do analysis of songwriting, and of course they nail it: “America” represents some pretty special work being done in the songwriting department. You can see from the “chord bass melody” and “melodic complexity” dimensions that “America” stands out from the crowd in substantial ways:
“America” is one of those rare songs where the bass dances around effortlessly, adding color and dimension in ways that only a bass can. Most people, however, will more appreciate the melodic complexity, which shifts and changes throughout the song so that you never quite know what’s going to come next. Yet, whatever does come next feels so very satisfying and enjoyable, as there’s not much tension or friction on display in the music — I suppose Paul Simon must have determined that the tension was covered off sufficiently in the lyrical department.
The songwriting analysis wouldn’t be complete, however, without mentioning the soprano saxophone cameo –
(which I always thought was an oboe, but OK, Wikidepia, you win).
Out of nowhere, this sop-sax-thing starts dancing with the electric bass and seems to threaten taking over the entire song before eventually fading out, seemingly exhausted. Clearly, this musical “episode” was designed to evoke the playfulness of the couple during this part of the story (presumably the narrator is one instrument and his girlfriend Kathy, the other). It’s not only wildly effective, but it’s also wildly creative songwriting. Points!
Vocals: 9/10
Most are aware that Paul Simon did all of the writing (music and lyrics) and that Art Garfunkel was a muse, a co-producer, and master harmonizer/vocalist on the majority of Simon & Garfunkel songs.
So, it makes sense that Simon would be the lead singer, as they’re his songs. That doesn’t mean Paul Simon is a great singer. Frankly, he’s not. What he is is distinctive, pleasant, earnest, and transparently compelling. It’s a voice that we all associate with S&G so of course we like it. But on the merits, it’s really just an OK voice.
But, somehow, someway, when it blends with Art’s voice, something singularly magical happens: a new, singular vocal sound emerges.
That’s right: I’m asserting that when they sing in certain harmonies, the listener experiences the vocals as a singular thing, not two people singing in two-part harmony.
Just check out 0:16 in this clip from “America,” when they sing “I’ve got some real estate here in my bag.”
You might have not even fully realized that Simon was singing solo up to that point and then he no longer was. It’s so subtle that it verges on transcendent.
Of course, this applies to virtually all S&G songs, not just “America.” And that’s fine with me.
Lyrics: 10/10
In my “In-a-Flash” review, I went kinda bonkers over the lyrics, so you probably know where I stand on this aspect of the song personally. But, stepping back and being more analytical and comparative to other songs, “America”’s lyrics still stand up to scrutiny. Usually, song lyrics are either storytelling, poetry, or a message. Somehow, “America” is all three. That’s some ambitious stuff right there.
At the risk of repeating myself, these lyrics are ruthlessly efficient in how much they squeeze out of themselves to not just paint a picture, but offer micro and macro commentary simultaneously. Yet, this efficiency isn’t even obvious!
Somehow, there’s still time for so-called “throw-away lines” like “Toss me a cigarette, I think there’s one in my raincoat / We smoked the last one an hour ago.” I mean, that’s a lot of time spent on idle chatter. But, somehow, this idle chatter somehow helps draw you into the narrator’s situation more intimately.
So, not a throw-away line at all. It just seems like one.
Finally, an analysis of the lyrics cannot pass by the singular line that, upon first listen, probably grabbed every listener by their lapel and yanked them out of the trance they were put into of hanging out on a bus ride with their fantasy partner:
“Kathy, I’m lost / I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why.”
Everything sung up to that point was designed to lull the listener into a sense of pleasant, idle complacency. Then, Simon unceremoniously ripped the band-aid off and offered existential dread in its place.
Holy sh*t, what a move. All the points.
Ear Worminess: 10/10
For a song that doesn’t even need an earworm due to its various other assets, it still comes banging down the door with an epic earworm nonetheless. Culminating in the final chorus in the most harmonious harmonies by Garfunkel: “All! Come! To look for Amer (Amer) ica!”
The cool thing about this earworm is that it’s not just the melody that gets stuck in your head — it’s the sentiment as well. It’s a multidimensional earworm, people. Damn.
OFFICIAL FFR SCORE: 9.6…
rounds its way up to: a 10/10!
TL;DR:
I was honestly open to the full review knocking down my gut instinct a peg or two.
But, that didn’t happen. If anything, the full review helped me justify my gut take on “America.” It’s truly something special. And, despite it not scoring straight-10s, it’s hard to think critically about how it could have been done better than it was.
Paul Simon has one of those minds that is able to develop songs that essentially multitask: they are stories that are poems.
Poems that are messages.
And messages that are somehow timeless.
All put to beautiful music that carry these lyrics to places where they’d never be on their own.
Cheers!
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That one line does indeed stab you right in the feelings, but what makes it even stronger is the bit you didn’t quote: “‘Kathy, I’m lost,’ I said, though I knew she was sleeping, “I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why.”
The narrator is so isolated, he can only admit it out loud when she can’t hear him. He may even be struggling to admit it to himself.
That vulnerable desperation in, as you say, so few words is perfect songwriting.
Great review. Well done.
Nicely put. Thanks!
That is the aspect that always gets to me. He doesn’t know why he feels empty, but is so guarded in his feelings that he can’t acknowledge them to anyone. And, of course, that is at least partly why he feels empty. Brilliant songwriting.
I am no Simon expert, since my knowledge of S&G is limited to the radio hits, and because I’m such a poetry/writing dunce, but it reminds me of his line in “Slip, Sliding Away” (talk about aching, vulnerable desperation!) about the father that travels to talk to his son about his life, but then kisses his boy as he lays sleeping and turns around and heads home again.
Jon,
I saw you post about writing up one of S&G’s deep cuts, and I’m a singles guy, so I really don’t know their discography. I quickly went thru the comments and back to my regularly scheduled programming.
I didn’t know the song until I started playing it…and then it came flooding back.
It had to be Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits from 1972, and since it was that early, I can’t remember WHEN I fell in love with this album, and more particularly, this song.
It absolutely haunted me, and I never knew why…but I obsessed over it.
And then it was gone, and I’d completely forgotten it. Thanks for putting into words a critique of a song I loved but couldn’t understand why.
Isn’t song re-discovery great? It may be better than song discovery.
A joy to read. Your enthusiasm for the song shines through but with so much detail to justify why it deserves a 10.
Now I need to go listen to the Yes version. Out of interest what would be your gut score for that – or does it defy usual scoring convention?
Thanks for the kind words.
My gut score for the Yes cover is a 3/10 because I feel they overindulged themselves so much in the musicality and musical performance that they undermined the delicacy required to convey the story and the message.
Yes? Overindulge? Surely, you jest.
Edit: I love how they quote “America” from West Side Story. It’s kinda brilliant.
This is a good analysis. In general Jon Anderson’s lyrics were non-sensical new age gobbledy-goop. (Someone needs to tally up how many times he sings about sunshine or sun in his songs). The words were just filler. The lyrics needed to sound good over the music, but that was all.
That sounds like a harsh criticism, but I actually LOVE plenty of Yes music. But the music was always higher priority than the meaning of the lyrics.
I know this song, because I’m Such A Music Guy.
But taking the time to appreciate and consider the craft; well, that’s a different story. I need to be a better Music Guy.
So thanks for the reminder about this one, and getting me to take a breath and think about it. Lovely piece- well done.
Oh, and I forgot: +1 for “ineffable.”
I’ll promise to try and work it in during the next relevant conversation.
From “The Naming of Cats” in Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot;
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name.
Ineffable sure… see if you can work “effanineffable” into conversation.
Does it count if I use “effin’ ineffable”?
I hope so, because I would totally do that too.
Thank you for doing such fine justice to one of my favorite songs, Jon.
In the several months before my parents brought home the Beatles Red and Blue albums, Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits was constantly played. That is still my favorite S&G album, which not only has “America” without the cross-fade from “Save the Life of My Child” (which precedes it on the Bookends album) but has live versions of some hits, all of which are IMO superior to the album versions.
Hal Blaine was told to mimic Ringo Starr’s work on “A Day in the Life” for the drumming on this song.
The Paul Simon fanboys of Vampire Weekend recorded a song very similar in theme and feel for their Modern Vampires of the City album.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sc9pdF_TIqo
Thanks again, Jon.
Very interesting trivia re: the drumming work. Thanks!
I’m glad you horned in, Jon. I figured you and Todd would have a lot of familiarity with this song.
Not sure a song is a “deep cut” when it’s on their greatest hits album, but whatever.
I attempted to cover this “issue” in full in the up-front.
We strive for poetic license.
I was hearing “America” for the first time in Almost Famous.
You should have weighed in on the “I Know It’s Over” is a deep cut kerfuffle on the mothership. The pro-“deep cut” advocate used the compilation album defense, whereas the people arguing against the affirmative side cited streaming platforms as its main criteria.
Yes, yes, yes (as in agreement, not the band). Have loved this song for literal decades, and you have given me a much better understanding of what makes it so great. Thanks!
I must admit, I don’t recall ever hearing song before. I know my parents had Simon & Garfunkel albums but they rarely seemed to play them. It’s almost like this is the sonic equivalent of watching Bob Ross paint happy little trees – it’s soothing, visual, relaxing, it seems harmless….. but it stays with you. And you can’t stop thinking about it.
Fantastic songwriting and delivery by Art and Paul. Nice choice for today everyone, and kudos Jon – excellent analysis.
Initially I wasn’t a fan of this song. As I got more into S&G, different parts of the music and lyrics would hit me each time. As an experienced adult, I appreciate and can relate more to the lyrics.
Of course Jon’s analysis kicks the song it up to a 9.6. 🤭
Recalling the experience of seeing S&G perform it live in Philly, with the crowd going wild… “Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike….” 11
Nice to have you commenting here, Polly!