It was supposed to be the big reunion. In the early eighties, everyone wanted Simon & Garfunkel back together for good. They had the massive Central Park show in '81, the world tour followed, and the momentum was undeniable. But then, things got weird. Paul Simon Hearts and Bones started its life as a duo record called Think Too Much, but by the time it hit shelves in 1983, Art Garfunkel’s vocals were scrubbed, the upbeat folk-rock vibes were replaced by a cold, digital sheen, and the public basically ignored it. It flopped. Hard.
Honestly? That’s the best thing that could have happened to it.
Because when you strip away the expectations of a "Bridge Over Troubled Water" part two, you’re left with what is arguably the most honest, painful, and sonically daring record Paul Simon ever made. It’s a transitional fossil. You can hear the ghosts of his 1970s singer-songwriter brilliance clashing with the quirky, rhythmic experiments that would eventually lead him to Graceland. It’s a mess, but it’s a beautiful, literate, and deeply human mess.
The Brutal Truth Behind the Lyrics
Most people know the title track is about Carrie Fisher. It’s not a secret. Simon and Fisher had a relationship that could best be described as "combustible." They were married and divorced within a year, and the song "Hearts and Bones" is a post-mortem of that intensity. When he sings about "one and one-half wandering Jews," he’s being literal. He’s Jewish; she was half-Jewish. They’re traveling through the Southwest, trying to figure out why they can’t just be together.
It’s a song about the physical versus the spiritual. The "hearts" (the emotion) and the "bones" (the structural, hard reality of people).
But the album isn't just a breakup note. It’s about being a middle-aged man in a changing America. Look at "The Late Great Johnny Ace." It’s a weird, haunting track that connects the death of a 1950s R&B singer to the assassination of John Lennon. Simon isn't just mourning a musician; he’s mourning the loss of innocence in culture. He actually performed this song during the Central Park concert, and a fan rushed the stage while he was singing it. You can see the genuine terror on his face in the footage. That real-world violence seeped into the recording. It’s dark stuff.
The Sound of 1983 (For Better or Worse)
If you listen to the production, it’s very... 1983. We’re talking Fairlight CMI synthesizers and programmed drums. It was co-produced by Russ Titelman and Lenny Waronker, along with Simon himself. At the time, critics thought it sounded too sterile. Today, it sounds like a precursor to the "indie-sleaze" or "sophisti-pop" sounds that modern bands like The 1975 or Vampire Weekend try to emulate.
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The title track has this incredible, rolling acoustic guitar figure that’s layered over a very stiff, electronic beat. That tension creates a specific kind of anxiety. It feels like someone trying to have a private conversation in a room full of computers.
Why Art Garfunkel Was Deleted
This is the drama everyone loves to talk about. Artie had recorded vocals for many of the tracks. But Simon, ever the perfectionist (and, let’s be real, a bit of a control freak), felt the lyrics were too personal. How can Art Garfunkel sing about Paul Simon’s specific, idiosyncratic relationship with Carrie Fisher? He couldn't. Simon realized this was a solo confession, not a harmony-driven pop record. He wiped the tapes.
Garfunkel was, understandably, pretty hurt. It effectively ended the reunion for years. But artistically? Simon was right. Imagine "Song for the Asking" but with lyrics about a specific fight in a New Mexico hotel. It wouldn't have worked. The vulnerability required a lone voice.
The Songs You Probably Skipped
Everyone knows the hits, but Hearts and Bones is carried by its deep cuts. "Train in the Distance" is a masterpiece of songwriting structure. It uses the metaphor of a passing train—something you hear but can't quite see—to describe the way a past marriage haunts a new life.
"The thought that life could be better / Is woven between the notes."
That line is basically the thesis statement for Paul Simon's entire career.
Then you have "Rene and Georgette Magritte with Their Dog after the War." It’s a surrealist dream. It imagines the famous painter and his wife dancing to 1950s doo-wop groups like The Penguins and The Moonglows. It’s weird, it’s nerdy, and it’s incredibly tender. It shows Simon’s ability to take high art and ground it in the music he loved as a kid in Queens.
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Why It Failed Then and Wins Now
When the album came out, it peaked at number 35 on the Billboard 200. For a guy who was used to being number one, that was a disaster. Warner Bros. didn't know how to market it. Was it folk? Was it synth-pop? Was it a divorce record?
The lack of a "hit" hurt it. "Allergies" was the lead single, featuring a ripping guitar solo by Al Di Meola, but it was too frantic for the radio. The public wanted "Mrs. Robinson," and Simon gave them a meditation on aging and artistic frustration.
But distance has been kind to this record. Without the baggage of the failed reunion, we can see it as the bridge to Graceland. You can hear the beginnings of the world-beat rhythms in "Cars are Cars." You can hear the lyrical complexity that would make The Rhythm of the Saints so dense.
Re-evaluating the Legacy
If you’re a fan of lyrical depth, this is your holy grail. It’s a smarter record than Graceland. It’s more intimate than Still Crazy After All These Years. It’s Paul Simon at his most exposed.
There are plenty of "perfect" albums out there, but Hearts and Bones is a "flawed" album that is better than most people's best work. It’s an essential listen for anyone who wants to understand how an artist survives a mid-life crisis without losing their integrity.
How to experience this album properly today:
- Listen on headphones first. The production is incredibly detailed. The way the percussion moves across the stereo field in "When Numbers Get Serious" is fascinating.
- Read the lyrics while you listen. Simon is a poet first. The wordplay in "Think Too Much" (both versions) is a masterclass in internal rhyme.
- Watch the 'The Late Great Johnny Ace' performance. Find the 1981 Central Park version on YouTube to see the raw emotion before it was polished in the studio.
- Compare it to Carrie Fisher's writing. If you've read Postcards from the Edge or Wishful Drinking, the album takes on a whole new dimension of "he-said, she-said" brilliance.
- Don't skip the "b-side" tracks. "Song About the Moon" is one of the most underrated melodies in his entire catalog.
The album serves as a reminder that commercial failure doesn't mean artistic failure. Sometimes, the world just isn't ready for the "hearts and bones" of a story until the dust has settled for a few decades.