If youāre like me, your first introduction to Paul Simon was through your parents, who were trying to get you into what their generation was into. At 74, the stout talent incubated in Queens is no spring chicken. In his new song, though, heās adapting to the times: in the first verse, he mentions checking his mail, adding later that his mail is delivered via smartphone screen. And this reference is part of an anecdote that sounds right out of the film Birdman, last yearās Best Picture winner at the Oscars: Just before playing a show, Simon steps out of the theater for a cigarette, accidentally locks himself out, and has to go around to the front entrance to get back in. There, he encounters a large bouncer who refuses him entry for lack of a wristband.
It seems like a pretty arbitrary, trivial story to take up two verses of a song, especially considering some of Simonās more profound, thought-provoking themes from earlier in his career, like aging love and identity crisis. In the third verse, though, the lack of a wristband suddenly becomes a metaphor for the alienation of angry, economically disenfranchised communities across the country, and just like that, the lyricist we knew is back. Itās a sharp turn, instantly adding weight and depth to the previously anecdotal lyrics, but Simon manages to pull it off without any awkwardness.
Instrumentally, as is a hallmark of his, Simon is experimenting with polyrhythms. Complex percussion creates an almost techno feel under a bassline played on an upright; again, two very different things that Simon manages to make work. Indeed, Wristband shows that even in his golden years, Simon hasnāt lost his eclectic sensibility. He has been both lauded and criticized in the past for importing African elementsāand, indeed, African musiciansāinto his music. But while some have surely seen this as cultural appropriation, Iāve always thought Simon had a genuine enough sensibility (lyrically, too: one of my favorite lines of his, āthey ended up sleeping in a doorway by the bodegas and the lights of upper Broadway,ā displays a vivid New York authenticity Iāve always loved) for me to give him a pass. Whether heās utilizing African vocalizing or, as in the case of Wristband, Latin-style brass, it usually comes respectfully, smacking of inspiration rather than bogarting.
You can find more of Nickās writing here.
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