Cecilia, by Simon and Garfunkel

I was wondering what to post on the blog, and I thought that maybe I would do something music-related. Now I love music, and am prepared to listen to just about anything. But what to write about? There's so much to choose from. So I've been thinking about this for a while and then yesterday a song that I like came on the ITunes shuffle (with somewhere around 14,000 songs, it could be just about anything), and I found myself dancing around the living room along with Henry, singing out aloud the words to one of my all time favourite tracks.

Let me make it clear: I've loved the song Cecilia for as long as I can remember. It's a happy, jaunty little number that was released as a single off the mega-selling 1970 album Bridge Over Troubled Water, and reached #4 in the US charts.

Given that I have known the song for my entire life, I'm not really sure when the lyrical content first struck me as, well, interesting. Now, I can remember that the shift from referring to key figure in the song as 'Celia' at first, to 'Cecilia' (as in the title) always seemed odd to me, but I figured that this was a license that had to be afforded to musicians now and again. Really, if Johnny Rotten can get away with rhyming 'anti-christ' with 'anarchist', I'll pay Paul Simon this one.

Nevertheless, to the content, well it starts out straightforward enough. He is keen on this bird, I can understand that, we've all been there:

"Celia, you're breaking my heart; you're shaking my confidence daily."

Therefore, the relationship is a bit rocky, maybe he is keener than she is, and it causes a bit of angst. That stuff has been grist for the mill for musicians since the dawn of time. Moreover, you know that things must be rough, because she appears to have gone and left him:

"Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please to come home. Come on home."

So he's begging her to come back, on bended knee and all! Still, no great diversion from a well trod path. But then, things get a little racier for our couple. Now, I can sing this song in my sleep, it is hardwired into my brain. But I honestly can't remember when I first stopped and thought, "Hey, wait a sec, did he just say that"?

"Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia, up in my bedroom [making love]"

That part is fine, maybe a giggle here or there (they're making love, ooohhhh). But between two adults, it really is no big fuss. Marvin Gaye sings about that all the time. Now, the idea of little Paul Simon making love is a bit weird, but hey, he has needs. The really naughty bit comes next:

"I got up to wash my face, when I come back to bed, someone's taken my place."

It's the afternoon, maybe a hot day. Hey, you don't have to tell me that a nice 'afternoon delight' can get us all a bit sweaty (hell, a spot of lovemaking can do that to you ANY time). Now, I'm not sure if it's your face that you should be washing, but I guess that depends upon what you're doing, doesn't it? But hey, he's finished the job, gone off to freshen up. But what do you know, someone else is in there, in HIS bedroom, with HIS girlfriend!

Right...

And this is the bit that grabbed me when I first thought about it: Paul Simon, sweet, dear little Paul Simon has invited Cecilia to his bedroom. Then they are in the bedroom, they have had some lovely, sweaty sex in the bedroom. And then, after he has sex with her, he nips into the bathroom to have a quick face wash. Cool, no problem. Sort of romantic.

But somehow, somewhere, in this bedroom, in Paul Simon's house (maybe in his parents' house), some OTHER guy (I'm presuming a guy, and maybe I'm wrong), but this other guy is in through the window, or maybe the back door or wherever, but this guy has let himself in and now he's started having sex with Cecilia. Shit, the most obvious assumption is that this guy has been in the house the whole time! Listening in, doing god knows what waiting to strike. Shit it could me his brother! On the other hand, maybe it's his DAD! That is really quite sick.

Christ almighty! And Cecilia? What about Cecilia? Little old Paul Simon has just gone off to freshen up (HE'S JUST IN THE OTHER ROOM CECILIA!) He's probably said "phew, that was great, give me a tic to just wipe my face, would you like a drink while I'm up?" But what does she do. SHE JUST DOESN'T CARE! She just goes in for seconds in someone else's bed, in her BOYFRIEND'S BEDROOM, in someone else's house! And Paul Simon is just across the hall! SHIT!

That is full on.

Hell, the denouement – shocking as it is to me – you just sort of take it as a given. So, surprise surprise (especially from what we now of this girl), she's come back:

"Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I'm laughing,"

I would really like to think that he is laughing at the idea that he would have this chick back, but all of this jubilation business confirms that he is happy to have her back. Maybe no shock there, people are always doing shit like that. It's all about empowering others to walk all over you. Dr Phil talks about it all the time.

But back to my original point, I don't know when it was that it dawned upon me what was going on in this song. The sweet harmonies and brisk little tune carry me along that it often seems finished just as it has begun. The first time that I consciously remember thinking about it was when I was in Year 12, singing it in the art room to myself, and some other bloke said: "they don't sing that, they wouldn't dare sing that. It's a sixties song!" And I was adamant that that indeed was what they sang, everybody knows that; it's a nice clear pop song, the vocal free of any misunderstanding. Then we got into it, and I thought to myself, maybe this Paul Simon needs to think about the kind of girl he is knocking about with.

So the moral? I'm not sure that there is a moral, expect maybe that if you want to get away with some heavy shit lyrically in a song with minimum fuss, sprightly, cheerful folk pop. That's the ticket.