Paul Simon delivers a commanding incantation at Disney Hall

Los Angeles Times

4 days ago

In 2018, Paul Simon walked onto the Hollywood Bowl stage for what most in the crowd believed to be his last tour stop in Los Angeles, ever. Simon expected that too — he'd billed the event as his 'Homeward Bound — Farewell Tour.' After 50 years of performing, a then-record three Grammy wins for album, a catalog of some of the most sophisticated and inquisitive American songwriting ever put to paper — he'd go out in full garlands.
So what a shock and delight when Simon, now 83, announced a few years later that he was not quite done yet. In 2023, he released a new album, 'Seven Psalms,' an elliptical, gracious invocation for the arc of his life, drawing on biblical imagery and intertwined guitar fugues.
But even better, Simon would also return to the stage for a new tour, including a five-night run at Disney Concert Hall. For L.A. fans, these shows were one last chance to reconnect with Simon, who now had a profound late-career album to bookend his catalog. Those songs spanned from his years in the Greenwich Village folk scene of the '60s and '70s to a Sabrina Carpenter duet on 'Saturday Night Live's' 50th anniversary special.
Wednesday's show — the last of the Disney hall stand — got to all of it, with Simon still in exquisite form in the last light of his performing career.
If Simon, seven years ago, had any doubts about his interest or ability to perform live at this exacting level, they must have disappeared the second he got a guitar in his hand at Disney Hall. The set opened with a full run of 'Seven Psalms,' a short yet profound song cycle in which a dense, ornamental acoustic guitar figure recurs over several songs in an intimate valediction.
'Seven Pslams' belongs alongside David Bowie's 'Blackstar' or Johnny Cash's 'American Recordings' albums in the canon of wide-lens looks at the mystery of late life. Simon's music was wise before its time even when he was a young man. But the perspective he has at this vantage, on the backside of 80 with a rejuvenated muse, was especially moving.
'I lived a life of pleasant sorrows, until the real deal came,' he sang on 'Love Is Like a Braid.' 'And in that time of prayer and waiting, where doubt and reason dwell / A jury sat, deliberating. All is lost or all is well.'
Simon's band members for this stint — a dozen or so strong, spanning percussion, woodwinds and guitars — were mostly impressionists during this portion, adding distant bells and chamber flourishes to the patina of these songs.
While he kicked up his heels a bit on the bluesy 'My Professional Opinion,' there was a trembling power in 'Trail of Volcanoes' and, especially, 'Your Forgiveness,' in which Simon took stock of his time on Earth and whatever lies next. 'Two billion heart beats and out / Waving the flag in the last parade / I have my reasons to doubt,' he sang, followed by a gracious incantation: 'Dip your hand in heaven's waters, god's imagination … All of life's abundance in a drop of condensation.'
The hit-heavy back half of the show was a little rowdier. One fan even made a bit of history when he tossed a $20 bill onstage, which was enough for Simon to gamely oblige his request to play a verse of 'Kodachrome.'
Simon and his band had looser reins here. 'Graceland' and 'Under African Skies' still radiated curiosity for the world's musical bounty, with the fraught complexity of that album nonetheless paving a stone on the road for African music's current global ascent. (He introduced his bassist, Bakithi Kumalo, as the last surviving member of the original 'Graceland' band.)
An elegant 'Slip Slidin' Away' led up to a poignant 'The Late Great Johnny Ace,' which took a tale of rock 'n' roll self-destruction and pinned it to a generational sense of cultural collapse. Simon didn't reference any current events beyond the John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy and John Lennon assassinations, but you could feel a contemporary gravity in the song.
Veteran drummer Steve Gadd reprised his jazzy breaks for '50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,' and the fatherhood ballad 'St. Judy's Comet' was a sweet, deep-cut flourish. (That mood continued when Edie Brickell, Simon's wife and vocalist, slipped in from the side stage to whistle the hook on 'Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard.) But the band hit full velocity on a pair of songs from 'The Rhythm of the Saints.' 'Spirit Voices' conjured an ayahuasca reverie with its thicket of guitars and hand percussion, while the sprawling and time-signature-bending 'The Cool, Cool River' showed Simon the musician — not just the poet — still in absolute command.
Simon's set never got to 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' or 'You Can Call Me Al,' but the final encore wrapped with just him and a guitar and the eternal hymn of 'The Sound of Silence.' His guitar work retained all its original power in the opening instrumental runs, and Simon looked genuinely grateful that, perhaps even to his own surprise, the stage hadn't lost its promise or potency for him just yet.
Who knows whether Wednesday was the last time Angelenos will get to see Simon perform live (this tour wraps next month in Seattle). If it was, then it was a beautiful benediction for one of America's defining songwriters. But if it wasn't, take any chance you get to see him again.