Tirade 3. Paul Simon – The Obvious Child

Just to make sure there is no confusion on this point, I really rate drums (see Tirade 2). Technically speaking, I know very little about them. Even though I have entertained an enthusiastic explanation of the intimate details of a drum kit, I still couldn’t tell you the difference between a bass drum and a floor tom (sorry, Matt).

In spite of my musical heresy, however, I still know what I like (really), and Paul Simon’s “The Obvious Child” from The Rhythm of the Saints (Warner Bros., 1990) falls under the category of Songs That Just Never Get Old. I was two and a bit when this album was released (parenthetical pause to allow recovery from holy-crap-she’s-so-young-what-could-she-possibly-know-about-anything shock), and I remember that dancing like a tiny madwoman with my mum and dad to “The Obvious Child” made me extremely happy.

The song’s evolution is perfect and its engineering is spot-on. Paul Simon wrote “The Obvious Child” based on percussion provided by the drum troupe of Brazilian cultural organization Olodum, which, he said in an interview, allowed him to write the song “less symmetrically”. Salvador-based Olodum (Bahia state, Brazil) focuses on providing music and performance-related activities for young people, and basically invented the samba reggae beat as we know it today. “The Obvious Child” not only incorporates the formidable surdos (bass drums), caixas (snare drums) and repiniques (modified snare drums) of samba reggae; it is built around them, so that the percussion takes on a central role (Claire’s favorite), when usually in pop music it is only granted cursory consideration (an enormous mistake).

Take time marker 3:10, for example, where begins a bridge only slightly more exhilarating than Carnaval that leads into the song’s fiery conclusion (see the beginning of the end at around 3:37). I don’t know about you, but I have favorite songs, and then I have favorite parts of favorite songs, which I anticipate with great excitement every time I press play. 3:10-3:37 of “The Obvious Child” keeps me going: when I’m out for a run, I feel a second wind at 3:10-3:37; when I’m having a bad day, 3:10-3:37 makes me happy.

But I’d be hard-pressed, as a know-it-all student, to write a review of “The Obvious Child” without at least a postmodern nod. That’s right, I’m dropping the P-bomb: when the album was released, Paul Simon was criticized for his problematic incorporation of afro-Brazilian music. How he had the guts to go for Brazil after Graceland (Warner Bros., 1986) was smudged for its allegedly Westernized interpretation of South African music and artists, I do not know. Because really, when you boil it down, you’ve still got a white man at the forefront of a whole bunch of black people (see music video, below; which is marginally more inclusive than nearly all YouTube footage of – disappointingly pitchy, I might add – live performances of the song).



Now that I’ve got that out of my system, I’m going to argue that “The Obvious Child” does not actually perpetuate postcolonial power relationships (the operation of the Western music industry is another story), and it all comes back to Olodum. Olodum came up with the beat and only afterwards did Paul lay down his track, which was recorded live and without fancy equipment. And the track, I will repeat, is a thing of beauty. Lyrically, it’s positively poetic: “Well I’m accustomed to a smooth ride / Or maybe I’m a dog who’s lost its bite / I don’t expect to be treated like a fool no more / I don’t expect to sleep all night”. And the lyrics don’t exotify the drummers, or their musical influence, with some awkward, white-and-liberal reference to the Other’s “beauty” or “pride” or “dignity” or whatever; Paul’s talking about a girl, and a baby, and a high school yearbook. The song is brilliantly crafted and a joy to listen to. Why deny the obvious?