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A Little Less Crazy After All These Years

Paul Simon comes to terms with his mortality—and immortality.


Paul Simon is smiling and talking about death. “Even though I don’t actually feel it, I understand intellectually that I’m running out of time,” he says with an air of resigned amusement. “But the denial instinct is so powerful that it doesn’t depress me or anything like that—I just think, Well, I’ll have to work on that subject. It’s important for one to think about: How am I going to make that transition, from being alive to not being in this body anymore?”

Simon, who will turn 70 this year, is still very much of sound mind and body. He has a remarkable, if awkwardly titled, new album—So Beautiful or So What, his first in five years. Today, he is rehearsing with his eight-piece band in the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, New York, a run-down room with vestiges of its former opulence, once the site of legendary shows by the Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin. His musicians look very much like his music sounds—young and old, black and white, familiar and new—and they’re running through the set they’ll take on tour this spring (including a stop at the Beacon Theatre on May 10 and 11).

Simon has always been something of a paradox—known for being a prickly perfectionist, he’s also able to laugh at himself (from dressing up in a turkey suit in the early days of Saturday Night Live to the riotous version of “Scarborough Fair” he performed with Chris Rock and Tracy Morgan at a benefit last year). Phil Ramone, who co-produced So Beautiful or So What and worked on such Simon classics as Still Crazy After All These Years in the seventies, notes that the singer has been “stabilized” by his nearly twenty-year marriage to singer Edie Brickell, 45, and their three children together. “This is a different part of his life, and it’s helped him a great deal to see what’s important,” Ramone says. The new album is full of meditations on God and death, but also affirmations of love—“Thank God I found you in time,” he offers on “Love and Hard Times.” Simon notes that his one regret about touring this spring is missing out on coaching his son’s Little League team.

His greatest work already belongs to the ages: “Bridge Over Troubled Water” turned 40 last year, and the Graceland album, which redefined him for a second generation, is now 25. Yet Simon stands alone among his peers in terms of continually chasing and experimenting with new sounds. So Beautiful is consistently surprising, with samples from old blues and gospel recordings butting up against Indian and African instruments and almost-imperceptible bells and gongs adding texture and richness.

This sonic fearlessness is surely part of the reason Simon has become an indie-rock favorite. In the last few years, bands like Spoon and Hot Chip have covered his songs. Ezra Koenig of Vampire Weekend (whose band has borrowed liberally from the African rhythms of Graceland) just released a version of 1972’s “Papa Hobo.” Kid Cudi’s “50 Ways to Make a Record” recast “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,” while the original has been sampled by the likes of Eminem, Tupac, and R.Kelly.

“I grew up with my folks listening to him,” says Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes, who has performed “Kodachrome” onstage. “But as I got into songwriting, I ­realized how profound what he does actually is. His work over the years is a ­treasure trove of ideas, and for someone like me that hopes to do this for a long time, to see someone continue to find new sounds and reinvent himself is such an inspiration.”

On the new album, Simon is also looking beyond sound and structure, all the way to something like theology. In “The Afterlife,” the narrator finds himself reaching the pearly gates of Heaven, which turns out to operate something like the DMV. God delivers a brief history of time (and a complaint about contemporary radio) on “Love Is Eternal Sacred Light,” and He and Jesus pay a quick visit to Earth in “Love and Hard Times” to check on things.

“There was a moment where I realized, wow, five out of the first six songs I wrote have God in them, and I thought, What could this be about?” Simon says, his voice echoing in the Capitol’s empty lobby. “I wondered whether there was a sub­conscious theme that I was tapping into. I have used Christian symbols and imagery before in songs. It’s very strongly evocative, so it may just be coincidence—but it may not be.”

After more than 50 years of writing songs, Simon still expresses wonder at the mystery of the process. “There’s always a period that feels very fallow and there’s nothing in my mind,” he says, “and I ­always used to think, Well, that’s that and nothing’s going to come up. But I’ve come to realize that there probably is something going on, and it will eventually turn up as some kind of urge to do something. It’s my favorite thing in life to make up things, so I’m relieved and grateful whenever that urge comes upon me and I begin again.”

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