In 1973, the disastrous Vietnam war was winding down, we were deep in the investigation toward impeachment of Richard Nixon, and Americans were suffering the recession triggered by our first oil shock, which was itself a response to Nixon's policy of unqualified support for Israel in the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
That summer, I graduated from high school, which is supposed to be a happy and optimistic event, into an ominously growing world of shit.
In the midst of this gloom, Paul Simon released his second solo album, There Goes Rhymin' Simon. For me, for everyone, that album arrived as a light in the darkness. Top 40 radio loved Kodachrome and progressive rock radio loved Loves Me Like A Rock and I loved them too, and I played the album over and over; but as a student of classical music, I especially loved American Tune, inspired by a melody in Bach's St. Matthews' Passion. Every time I heard that song, it lifted me up.
Saturday, Curtis Stigers' live performance of it made me cry.
Grab a copy of Stigers' performance and a tissue and join me overleaf.
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