POP MUSIC SPECIAL : Paul Simon’s Next Stop: : Brazil

P aul Simon’s “Graceland” was one of the landmark pop works of the ‘80s, a 1986 collection that earned the veteran singer-songwriter a third album - of - the - year Grammy (a mark equaled only by Frank Sinatra and Stevie Wonder).

The album not only included exquisite songs about the ironies and joys of life in these “days of miracle and wonder,” but also showcased the skills of some marvelously appealing South African musicians, underscoring the value of broadening the cultural range of mainstream pop in this country.

“Graceland”--which remained on the U.S. pop charts for almost two years--had such a strong impact that it’s easy to imagine even someone of Simon’s stature being intimidated. The question for almost four years now has been: How do you follow that album?

Simon finally returns Tuesday with “The Rhythm of the Saints,” a new Warner Bros. album whose inspirational spark was a visit to Brazil where Simon became intrigued by the dynamics of Brazilian drum rhythms.

The album is another ambitious, cross-cultural feast in which Simon brings together musicians from Brazil, Cameroon, South Africa and the United States to add seasoning to songs touching on topics ranging from urban crime and lost love to idealism and faith.

In San Francisco recently to preview the record at a Warner Bros. Records staff convention, Simon spoke during an interview about the impact of “Graceland” and the making of “The Rhythm of the Saints.”

Question: Were you intimidated by the enormous success of “Graceland”?

Answer: Intimidated? No, I didn’t feel intimidated by the success of “Graceland.” I think I was more intimidated by the failure of “Hearts and Bones” (the album that preceded “Graceland”). Remember, “Hearts and Bones” came right after “One-Trick Pony” (a sound track album that was also a commercial disappointment). I started thinking maybe people had just lost interest in me.

I actually read a piece in Billboard magazine where (the reporter) was talking to radio programmers about what they were playing or what they were looking for . . . and someone said specifically, “Well, we won’t be playing artists like Paul Simon anymore.” And I thought, “Wow, they’re saying they won’t play what I am going to do in the future even though they don’t know what I am going to do.”

I tried to be philosophical about it. I told myself it happens in this business. I just assumed my career had left the phase of real intense popularity and moved into some other phase. You have to accept it, try not to take it personally. But, of course, you do take it personally and it makes you wonder if you should even try to write any more songs.

But eventually, the feeling kind of goes away and you move on. Obviously, you don’t want to go and copy what’s on the radio to show people you can have another hit. That would have been humiliating for me. But you start looking at the last record and see what parts you liked and what parts should have been better.

Q: What did you discover when you did that? Why do you think “One-Trick Pony” and “Hearts and Bones” failed?

A: The error of “One-Trick Pony” was that I wrote the music within two or three years after the “Still Crazy After All These Years” album, but I was having such a good time with the screenplay (for the “One-Trick Pony” movie) that I let the music sit around until the movie was finished and that meant two extra years. If I had put out the album right after “Still Crazy,” it would have done much better because in those five years--from 1975 to 1980--music changed. There was the Clash, the new-wave movement, a whole new energy.

Q: But people think of you as a classic songwriter, someone whose work and popularity aren’t affected by shifts in style. Isn’t that true?

A: No, because there is a certain rhythm of interest that goes on in pop music that we all share. I would have written different music for the “One-Trick Pony” album if I had known it was going to take five years to finish the film. I was finishing ideas I started in “Still Crazy,” which is how I work. When I finish an album, there are usually some unfinished ends that interest me and set a direction for me next time.

Q: What unfinished ends were there from “Hearts and Bones” when you started making “Graceland”?

A: Two things. First, I noticed that I had started to write lyrics that combined conversational speech and imagery. I liked that. But I didn’t like some of the tracks, some of the arrangements and the actual playing on “Hearts and Bones.” Things just didn’t work in the studio. I was distracted. I was working on the reunion tour with Artie (Art Garfunkel). I was getting married. For various reasons, the record slipped through the cracks musically--and I didn’t want that to happen again.

But also I was very depressed after “Hearts and Bones.” The marriage (to actress Carrie Fisher) ended as quickly as the record ended . . . and that shook my confidence--the marriage more than the record. I was building a house out on Long Island, where Carrie and I were going to live.

I would drive out there all the time after the break-up to watch the construction and I’d listen to this tape of this South African music on a cassette. It was like two or three months went by before I even noticed that I was always playing this same tape. That’s eventually what led me to go to South Africa and make “Graceland.”

I was so excited about the music that it helped me get over the pressure of whether the record would sell or not. Since they had already written in Billboard that nobody was going to play me anyway, I thought, fine, I’ll just do what I want.

Q: Do you have any idea how revolutionary that album was going to be?

A: Not really, because I had been (reaching out) to other cultures in my music for a long time. On “El Condor Pasa” from the “Bridge Over Troubled Water” album, for instance, we actually bought the Los Incas track and sang over it. Rather than just sing over another existing track, it seemed better to go to the country and actually record with the musicians.

That’s what I did with “Mother and Child Reunion.” I heard a lot of ska music when I was living in England in the ‘60s, so I went to Jamaica to make a ska record. But when I got there, they said they weren’t playing ska anymore . . . they were playing reggae. So, that’s how it ended up reggae. With the South African music, however, I got into it on a much deeper level.

Q: What about the backlash? Were you surprised when groups in England and in the U.S. accused you of violating a cultural boycott against South Africa by recording with black musicians in Johannesburg?

A: It’s not pleasant to be criticized at all and it’s certainly not pleasant to be criticized on racial issues. I was terribly relieved when things finally worked out . . . when my position got accepted by most people. In retrospect, I feel what we did was overwhelmingly correct. I met Nelson and Winnie Mandela when they were in the U.S. a few months ago and they both thanked me for helping.

Q: What “unfinished ends” did you take with you from “Graceland” when you started working on the new album? And why go to Brazil?

A: Two events had a big effect. I did a duet with Milton Nascimento on his album in 1987 and he invited me to Brazil after the “Graceland” tour. The other thing was two statements about drumming. Quincy Jones said the great singers in Africa come from the south, but the great drummers come from the west. Then Eddie Palmieri, who I was working with on a Broadway musical, said the great drummers of the world came out of West Africa from Brazil up to the Caribbean and on to Cuba. That was the starting point: Brazil and drumming.

Q: What happened when you went to Brazil?

A: I went into the studio with Milton’s record producer and we recorded some drummers. I also went up to the north (of Brazil) and saw this phenomenal group of 14 drummers . . . Uakti . . . and did some more recording. I had no idea where it was leading, but then I thought I’d put some West African guitar on top of the Brazilian drumming. After all, the rhythms are connected anyway . . . just separated by 300 to 400 years.

Then, Hugh Masekela recommended a musician named Kofi Elektrik who came in to play in the studio and he had friend from Cameroon who was living in Washington . . . Vincent Nguini. I invited him up to New York and I asked him what he would play over these drum rhythms and we started to work together to make up forms for the songs. By now, we were in the fall and summer of ’88. It was going slowly, but that’s because I was spending most of my time on writing a Broadway show.

Q: A Broadway show? Weren’t you nervous about causing another delay in the music, the way you had done with “One-Trick Pony”?

A: Well, I noticed the parallel between “One-Trick Pony” and the Broadway show. Here I was again, going from a hit album to a big stretch. But this time, the album and the play were very different. The show was a Puerto Rican story that had nothing to do with the album. At first, the play was my main interest. By the time I got back from Brazil last year, however, I had eight tracks that I liked and that’s when I decided to put the play on hold.

I didn’t feel the play would be hurt by delaying it a year or two, but if I pushed the album back, I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the connection between it and “Graceland.” That’s when I started writing the lyrics.

Q: There are a lot of contradictory images in your lyrics on both “Graceland” and “The Rhythm of the Saints.” Is that more satisfying to you than a song that has a single, obvious conclusion.

A: Yes, I like to keep turning things around so that you have to look at the various possibilities of a situation rather than a single meaning or possibility because I think that’s the way life is. . . . A lot of the lines or images are very non-linear. . . . big jumps. I don’t always understand it when the song is evolving. I don’t always know exactly why the next line is there, but I do understand it on some emotional level and it gradually all begins to make sense. There is a connection.

Q: There is a lot of disillusionment in a song like “The Cool, Cool River” on the new album. . . . Urban rage, terrorism, government deceit and the like. Yet, you end up saying, “I believe in the future / We shall suffer no more.” How do you feel about the future? Are you optimistic?

A: You have to have to believe that some of the problems can be fixed or you live in a state of such pessimism that you are immobilized. But also the line goes on to say, “Maybe not in my lifetime / But in yours . . . .”

That’s written to my son, Harper. That’s the hope of us all, isn’t it? If the problems seem impossible now, well, maybe they’ll be solved for the next generation. . . . I also think that is the first time I ever wrote in a song that I’m going to die. I just noticed that the other day.

It’s strange. In the Simon & Garfunkel days, when I was the same generation as our audience, I always felt that whatever I was interested in was in perfect sync with what the mass audience was interested in. But I wondered what it would be like when you got older.

The thing you learn is that you just keep writing about what concerns you and if the song is any good, people will still relate to it.

ALBUM REVIEW: Simon’s “The Rhythm of the Saints” is as equally engaging as “Graceland.” By Chris Willman. Page 63