Paul Simon
There Goes Rhymin' Simon

THE REVIEW

And if autumn in New York were scented with rain, the smell of fallen leaves in November.

I woke up today to a sunless day at the start of October, the period is not the best, the desire for poetry and music was too high after a bike ride along unsuitable streets full of the emptiness of circulating cars. I started spinning this record on the turntable, "There Goes Rhymin' Simon," recorded in the fall-winter of '72 by a Paul Simon on his second solo attempt. It is not the most typical New York album to come from his pen, it is infused with southern sounds, with gospel, with the multicolored carnival rain of New Orleans but its progression between acoustic and rhythmic filled a morning without sounds. This is the album of the intense American parabola of "American Tune", "I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees", of the melancholy "Kodachrome" which cost Simon quite a bit for the unauthorized use of the Kodak trademark. From this album, I've always loved the delicacy of "Something So Right", the small beauty of "St. Judy's Comet", with Simon's inspiration still tied to the previous decade, before the reggae, before the gospel of "Loves Me Like a Rock" and "Tenderness".

Reading the lyrics, looking at the images on the cover that symbolize the various songs, it brought back a lot to a poor day; the most genuine New York will emerge from the songs of "Still Crazy After All These Years", with jazzy sounds and that mustached Paul on the fire escape smiling under his floppy hat aware of having recorded a great album. Perhaps it is the wet sidewalks that scent the air of New York in autumn.