FEATURE: Groovelines: Paul Simon - 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

FEATURE:

 

 

Groovelines

 

 Paul Simon - 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

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BECAUSE one…

of Paul Simon’s best albums turns fifty very soon, for this Groovelines, I am including one of its standout cuts. Still Crazy After All These Years is the fourth solo album from Simon. It was released on 17th September, 1975. Its title track is phenomenal and one of Paul Simon’s best songs. However, I am going to focus on 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. I first heard it when I was a child and the criticism around it was that, in the song, Simon does not list fifty ways to leave your lover! The song or Simon never purports to stick rigidly to the title and name fifty different ways someone can leave their lover. What is more important is Simon’s lyrics and the inventiveness of the song. The third single from Still Crazy After All These Years, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover was the third single released from the album. It was a chart success and critically acclaimed. I am going to go a little deeper with this song. There are quite a few excellent features about 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. I am going to start with a bit of a jokey feature. One that points out how there are, indeed, not fifty ways to leave your lover listed in the song:

My issue is that the song promises fifty ways to leave your lover, and by my count there are only five. That’s no small discrepancy! It’s a great pet peeve of mine to be promised something (whether it’s in a song, a movie trailer, a commercial, or otherwise) and be given something totally different or insufficient. For instance, the movie Trainspotting; they’re not looking for trains, they’re trying to get drugs! Or when I got that Ginsu knife because I saw it could cut through shoes, and then it didn’t make it halfway through mine.

I may not be as celebrated a songwriter as you, but I can tell you this: My songs make good on their titles. “Rufus the Dog” is not some misleading title to get you to listen to a song about a cat or a llama or something ridiculous like that. It’s about a dog. What he eats, where he sleeps, all kinds of things. Or my song “Three Little Words.” Guess what; those words are “I” and “Love” and “You.” I don’t stop with just two of them and I don’t barrel on to four or five. It’s just those three, exactly what I promised.

But you say fifty right in the title—not to mention in the song itself (six times by my count)—and then proceed to only give us five. Now just to be fair, because maybe I miscounted or something, let’s go through the five I see.

1. Slip out the back, Jack
2. Make a new plan, Stan
3. Don’t need to be coy, Roy

And then there’s the “listen to me” part, which isn’t a way to leave your lover. (Honestly, “Don’t need to be coy, Roy” isn’t really a way to leave your lover, but I’ll accept it. Poetic license and all that.) Then there’s:

4. Hop on the bus, Gus (“don’t need to discuss much” is, I assume, still directed at Gus)
5. Drop off the key, Lee

And “get yourself free” is for Lee, I’m assuming”.

I am going to move to a couple of features that look at the story behind the song. On the face of it, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover might seem like fantasy and Paul Simon coming up with the seeds of an idea and building on it. However, there might be more of the personal in it. Rather than cast himself as the protagonist and coming from a first-person perspective, instead, Simon might be embodying himself in the characters. This is the first feature I want to drop in:

On the face of it, this song would imply that the protagonist is getting advice from a new lover about how to get rid of the old one. Maybe he’s been deceiving her, but the only thing that stands out as being deceiving is the title. You read the title and think that’s a lot of ways but in reality, only list’s five. So, what happened to the other 45? Maybe he didn’t need them!

Simon and his vocal partner, Art Garfunkel, who began their career under the name Tom and Jerry, had major success between 1966 and 1970 and really hit the big time right at the end when Bridge Over Troubled Water – the album and single – topped all charts and sold by the bucket load, but it caused tensions and by 1973 the pair had gone their own ways and launched successful solo careers. Who was the most successful? It’s hard to say because although Paul Simon had more hits he never reached number one in the UK, but he did write all his own songs whereas Art didn’t write any of his hits, but did have two ‘eyes’ chart toppers in the shape of I Only Have Eyes for You in 1975 and Bright Eyes in 1979, the latter becoming the best-selling single of that year.

Paul’s solo career began in 1972 with Mother and Child Reunion which reached number five. He followed it with Me and Julio Down by The Schoolyard, Take Me to The Mardi Gras, Love Me Like A Rock and then after a two-and-a-half-year gap he returned in 1976 with 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. In essence Paul really did write this after leaving his lover. He had been married to Peggy Harper since 1969 and divorced in 1975. On his 1983 album Hearts and Bones Paul reflected on his married life in the song Train in the Distance. He then began a relationship with the actress Carrie Fisher.

So how did that song come about? Well Simon, in an interview with Rock Lives: Profiles and Interviews, explained how it started, “I woke up one morning in my apartment on Central Park and the opening words just popped into my mind: ‘The problem is all inside your head, she said to me…’ That was the first thing I thought of. So, I just started building on that line. It was the last song I wrote for the album, and I wrote it with a Rhythm Ace, one of those electronic drum machines so maybe that’s how it got that sing-song ‘make a new plan Stan, don’t need to be coy Roy’ quality. It’s basically a nonsense song.” He’s been quite reserved regarding the song’s subject, except to say that it wasn’t about his wife”.

I am going to finish up with a feature from Stereogum. As part of their The Number Ones series, they spent some time with a Paul Simon masterpiece. One of my favourite songs of his, because the album it is from, Still Crazy After All These Years, turns fifty on 17th October, it was important to dive inside this song. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover is a track that has been with me for decades and still provokes emotion. The memories I have tied to it. More than that, the sheer quality of the songwriting and everyone on the record:

Simon started to write “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” as a sort of kids’ game. Earlier in 1975, the 33-year-old Simon and his first wife Peggy Harper had split up after six years of marriage. One day, Simon had their three-year-old son Harper at his apartment, and he was trying to teach Harper how to rhyme. That’s how he came up with the chorus, with all its rattled-off names: “You just slip out the back, Jack / Make a new plan, Stan.” (Harper is now doing just fine for himself as a singer-songwriter, so the lesson must’ve worked.) In a 1975 interview, Simon admitted that “50 Ways” is “basically a nonsense song.”

He’s wrong, of course. “50 Ways” is actually a dazzling little piece of storytelling. A man is having an affair, but he’s dithering about ending his main relationship. He wants out, but he doesn’t know how to go through with it. The other woman wants him to hurry up and get the fuck out, and she tells him that he needs to do it. But she never comes out and says that. Instead, she frames it as helpful advice: “She said, ‘It grieves me so, to see you in such pain / I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again.'” And then she tells him to just do it — to act, to be decisive, to do any of the 50 things you can do to become single again.

Simon presents the whole thing as a dialog, almost a scene from a movie. He never offers any details on his own narrator or on the woman who’s helping him in his struggle to be free. Simon doesn’t even say if he’s cheating with this other woman; it’s just heavily implied. In that simple stretch of dialogue, we can infer the entire situation that this man has made for himself. And we can see the light slowly dawning on him. He can do it. He can leave. It’ll be fine. Simon said that he didn’t write “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” about his ex-wife. But when you come out with a song like that a few months after your first divorce, you’re telling us something.

In any case, “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” remains one of the few divorce songs that isn’t mired in reflection or self-pity. Instead, it’s a sly exultation, a wink at the whole idea that there can be freedom after marriage. The divorce rate was skyrocketing by the mid-’70s, so maybe that had something to do with the song’s popularity. A whole lot of the baby boomers who’d gotten married straight out of college — as well as those who, like Simon, were slightly older than the boomers — were starting to figure out that they didn’t have to stay with the same person for their entire lives. Heard from a certain perspective, “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” works as a celebration of that ability to get yourself free, and of the loss of stigma around it. (All those boomer divorces, it’s probably worth noting, did a real number on my generation of kids. But my parents are still together, and it’s not like I’m any less fucked up than my peers, so maybe all that freedom was ultimately a good thing.)

Simon wrote “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” to the beat of a drum machine. (I’ve now learned that a lot of ’70s songwriters did this, and I find that delightful.) When Simon recorded the song, the great studio drummer Steve Gadd came up with an intricate marching patter-riff. Simon, wanting to keep the song simple, arranged the entire track around those drums, which was a smart thing to do. “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” is a casually funky track, one that keeps bubbling throughout. The chorus doesn’t explode; it effortlessly slides right in. And when the chorus subsides, everything comes back to that drum riff again. That beat is the reason that “50 Ways” has been sampled dozens of times. (See below.) It’s also probably what keeps “50 Ways” from ever sounding vicious or callous, even though it’s really both.

Incidentally, all three of the backup singers on “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover” — Valerie Simpson, Patti Austin, and Phoebe Snow — were prominent musicians in their own right. Valerie Simpson was the Simpson of Ashford & Simpson, who had already written “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and produced the 1970 Diana Ross version, which had been Ross’ first solo #1 hit. Simpson had also released a couple of solo albums on Motown; later on, Ashford & Simpson, as artists, would peak at #12 with 1984’s “Solid.” The singer-songwriter Phoebe Snow, who’d been touring with Simon all year, had already peaked at #5 with 1975’s “Poetry Man.” (It’s a 6.) And Patti Austin will eventually show up in this column, Simpson, Snow, and Austin don’t really get a whole lot of opportunity to show off on “50 Ways,” but that’s still a whole lot of talent in one room”.

There is a lot more to say about this classic. However, on 17th October, people will talk about Still Crazy After All These Years will get some new attention. I hope people talk about the songs. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover is one of Paul Simon’s finest achievements. In terms of the lyrics and the chorus. The composition. Everything beautifully sits together. A song that is still startling brilliant…

AFTER all these years.