CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK
Back Together, for Better or Worse
By JON PARELES
Published: September 29, 2003
Back in 1968, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel imagined themselves at the unthinkable age of 70 and sang, "Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you." Those men, now 61, have also preserved something far more marketable: their once-a-decade reunions. Tickets have been moving fast for the Simon and Garfunkel "Old Friends" tour, which starts on Oct. 16 in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., and includes a three-night stand at Madison Square Garden Dec. 2 to 4.
It is another rush of nostalgia for baby boomers, particularly those who didn't hear the duo's rusty, dragged-out versions of the old songs in concert in 1993 as I did. Etched into vinyl, their 1960's songs defy time for musicians and fans as unchanging artifacts of younger days â?? much younger days, when people actually admitted to "feelin' groovy." The closer the pair sound to their early recordings, the more they help recollections eclipse reality, the happier the fans will be. A reunion tour provides a payoff for suspending artistic development.
Simon and Garfunkel are not the only ones offering fans a wishful dip into the fountain of youth. Other reunions this fall include a tour by Duran Duran, an Iggy Pop album including new songs he recorded with the Stooges (who played some incendiary reunion gigs over the summer) and a cozy new album from the female folk-rock band the Bangles. Fleetwood Mac has been touring with a near-reunion of its best-selling lineup â?? only Christine McVie is missing â?? and has new songs about trying to rekindle old loves. And the cast of "A Mighty Wind," the mockumentary about 1960's folk bands, has been performing what might be considered a metareunion, harking back to hits that never were.
Reunions are staples of the concert business. Pop memories renew themselves every time someone hears an oldie on the radio or pulls a favorite album off the shelf. Put enough time between a breakup and a reunion, or even a reunion and another reunion, and a reappearance is as close as a concert promoter can get to a sure thing. Since there is always the chance that a reunion will turn out to be a one-shot, like the brief sets by the Police, Talking Heads and Cream for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, concert dates can be sold like a combination greatest-hits and farewell tour. And if some apparent one-shots â?? the Sex Pistols reunion, Kiss in full makeup â?? are then repeated, well, caveat emptor.
For a ticket buyer, a reunion tour presents more certainty than the latest swing through town by a regular working band. Since groups that have to reunite have not been cranking out albums steadily, there is a higher percentage of well-remembered songs to play onstage. A reunion skips those difficult years between precocious inspiration and the smartened-up taste of the present. Nostalgia, no matter how affectionate, has a way of winnowing a set list.
A hit-making name is a lucrative trademark that can linger beyond the grave. This year's Doors reunion tour, with Ian Astbury doing his Jim Morrison impression, included only two out of three surviving Doors, and the old arrangements were punched up with extra musicians. But fans applauded, and the band insisted it was working on new songs. The video ghost of Elvis Presley was reunited with his old band members a few years ago, and in October a video Frank Sinatra is to be reanimated with his old arrangements live at Radio City Music Hall.
Even a non-hit-making group like the briefly reunited Mission of Burma can draw a crowd because its songs have had a long, cultish afterlife. Given the choice between never seeing a vanished band and seeing its reunion, there is always hope that the old spark will return.
Sometimes it does. Elvis Costello's 2002 reunion with three-quarters of the Attractions, renamed the Imposters and playing with predatory dynamics, cut the slack out of his songwriting. Joe Jackson's recent tour with his lean but unstoppable late-1970's band stoked his combativeness and his rhythmic kick. Both reunions showed the most auspicious sign: they generated full albums of new songs, proving that the musicians were willing to engage one another instead of just learn the old parts.
The frictions that tear bands apart the first time around can give reunions a fascinating overlay of psychodrama; tension can make for high-stakes music or bad comedy. But old reflexes can also cause musicians to be professional and nothing more, pretending to be their younger selves minus the promising futures. Then it is up to the audience to suspend disbelief and sing along as if it were yesteryear.
But here is a critic's proposal: Every band should be allowed one reunion, no more. If things work out and the reunited band becomes a going concern, so much the better. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, winding up their tour with three shows this week at Shea Stadium, have spurred one another to some of the best music of their careers since reuniting in 1999. Steely Dan's brain trust, those persnickety songwriters Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, reunited in 1993 to start touring again; they have stayed together and honed a band that they consider good enough to back them in the studio.
At their best, reunions can remind musicians and fans what they saw in each other in the first place. And if not â?? well, the audience always has the songs, and the memories.
