I´m so tired to write,but I MUST tell you how wonder-
ful was the show!We had a very warm day in Basel,the
sun burned the many excited fans.It was the first
time to me to see this Brilliant Duo at concert,alth-
ough I´m a fanatic for my age of ten.
I enjoyed all of minutes of the concert by unconscio-
us way!It´s too hard to express.Paul and Art were ve-
ry fresh and happy,enjoying the singing crowd.Artie
wore a white shirt and a claret-coloured tie,on the
way as he usually does.Pauly didn´t give us surprise,
because he wore one of his ´twodollars t-shirt´ /but
that was orange,for a change:)/and jeans,of course.
I very like this puritanity,but I feel so sorry why
Pauly doesn´t give his t-shirts to auction as Elton
John does annualy.I´m sure I would pay for them hyper
The quality of the sound was awesome!Their voices
filled the Jacobstadium and flew to the sky.I must
tell you that my favourite instrument is the trumpet
and I always like the parts of the wind instruments on Paul´s songs.I would have liked if some trumpet
had had in ´My little town´.But It was absolutly O.K.
I think ´Homeward Bound´ was on the best way I´ve ev-
er heard.The guitar and the piano solo both casted a
spell upon the song.SOS was so soul-cleaning!The
little lights in the stadium like many-manyfireflies.
Pauly returned to his childhood,behaving like a young
kid-rascal.His guitar in his hands seemed to me the
same I imagened him in his room by useing a broom to
strumming.And,the best was in the show:his navel.Like
one of Snow White´s seven dwarfs.I almost passed out.
.....that´s all folks.
Uups! I´m still out of my mind I think,because I
forgot to brag my invention.So let me to tell you,
Paul and Art smiled at me many times!Because I call
their attention to me by a papermade-Simon and Gar-
funkel figure.I waved by it,I put to my head some-
times and it worked!Paul gave me an unforgetable,
extra beautiful shinning-eyed smile,a long-long
I had to tell you,PaulPals.
´Hey mom, did you know there some famous old guys coming to the Saint Jakob´s stadium?´ my daughter said, in passing.
´Oh who?´ I replied, unable to muster any interest. Her idea of famous seldom jibes with mine.
´Oh, I don´t know, I can never remember his name. Gar, Gar, I can´t remember. Anyway, he´s an old guy and he´s coming to Basel. I know, you like him. His name´s Gar-somebody.´
´Yeah, I think that´s him.´
´Simon and Garfunkel?´
´Yeah, both of them.´
´Geez! to Basel?´ My enthusiasm level started to sky rocket.
´You see. I told you it was somebody you´d like.´
´You don´t like Paul Simon? Rhythm of the Saints?´
´Diamonds on the Soles of her Feet,´ her dad added.
´Daaa-ad, That´s soles of her shoes.´
´Yeah mom, you know, lots of old famous people come to Basel.´
´Yeah mom, you don´t pay attention.´
´Well maybe not, but Simon and Garfunkel aren´t old guys.´
´Sure they are.´
´Whaddaya mean old? When was Sounds of Silence?´ I looked at her dad. ´1966-67? That´s not ol....´
´Mom, that´s like more than thirty-five years ago.´
´That´s old mom.´
Undaunted, by our daughter´s scorn, we set off on our bikes to Basel. There we mixed easily with the other cyclists, pedestrians and tram takers. (No traffic jams for the sensible Swiss.) Unfettered by metal detectors and body searches, the fans, aged anywhere from a bare-midriffed sixteen to a support-hosed sixty-six, staked out a comfortable territory on the plastic mesh-protected playing field with their collapsible chairs, picnic blankets and beach towels. Some munched Bratwurst, others drank beer and a few, a very few it seemed, smoked a joint. If you had the good fortune to find yourself by a pot smoker and inhaled deeply, well who knew? Maybe the experience would be herbally enhanced.
Eight thirty arrived-and left. By 8:35 the punctual Swiss got a trifle testy in a low-key Basel sort of way. Up flashed the photographs of old friends, Simon and his pal Paul from childhood to, dare I say it? old age´¦.older age, oldish age? Buddies for more than fifty years, the slightly paunchy duo appeared and sang Old Friends-a gentle nostalgic start. I looked about me. Were there many ´˜old guys´ among us? Not really, if I take the starting point of my own age. Every song an anthem, the audience accompanied the performers by singing the still pertinent lyrics. Clearly Simon writes from his heart while Art sings from his soul.
By way of introduction, Simon said he and Garfunkel used to imitate the Everly Brothers and then they appeared, complete with Hollywood hair. Three tunes later, the pace picked up. With trepidation I awaited my daughter´s early warning signs of a body being transported aloft to the area near the stage. ´You have to be on the alert for that,´ she counselled. ´And, if you´re close to the stage you´ve got to be physically fit owing to all the push and shove.
´The people in the mid-section will sway to the music,´ she said, ´and if the mood is right you´ll go into a trance.´ They did, I didn´t.
´Be ready to duck, lift or get smashed in the face,´ she cautioned. I began to look more and more forward to the evening. She hadn´t finished There was more fun to come. Apparently, with any luck the hoisted spectator would ultimately be tossed toward a group of youths buff as broncos-always better than into a gaggle of girls, known to step back at the last moment and not carry their load. There was none of that. Perhaps no one trusted his body to the old fogies´ weak wrists and crumbling bones.
Simon was twenty-one when he wrote one song, he´s sixty-two now but he won´t be for long. Had they aged? Of course. Could they still sing? You bet.