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 n 1978, while photographing Inca ruins in Peru, for four straight days I found myself humming The Sounds of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel to the point where it was annoying me. On the fifth day I realized why: someone in this remote Andean village was playing it over and over. Finally, I tracked it down: it turned out to be a washerwoman who owned a cassette recorder. Because I knew all the words, she assumed that I had written it. When I told Paul this story of how deeply his music  had penetrated into the world, he responded with one his own. He and his son had also been to Peru. One evening in the Amazon, walking along a jungle path near their lodging, they came upon a native with a guitar who was performing Sounds of Silence. Afterward, the singer, who had no inkling of who Simon was, asked if he also played. Taking the instrument, Paul plucked El Condor Pasa, then handed it back and inquired what else he knew. At that point, the man pulled out a Paul Simon song book. |
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© Nubar Alexaniun 1996, all rights reserved. |
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