I'm up and at my desk. I've been awake for a while. Sending texts to friends and family in bed. This is how I occupy my early mornings . It's 2025. We have to struggle to communicate as we make our ways up our various hills pushing our various boulders. Parsley, Sage Rosemary & Thyme is on its third play. I'll have my breakfast. Run my bath. Get dressed. Breakfast further. It's a sturdy album. Durable.
What do you mean? Call that a review? What kind of loser are you. Where does it stand? Is it better than Sound of Silence. How does it compare to Bridge Over Troubled Water. Where does Paul Simon stand among the pantheon of greats. Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen. Aristotle. Stand up while I'm talking to you? Look at me? Pay attention !
Oh I can't be bothered with the obsessions of the Statistical Age we're all stumbling blindly through. It's just a great record. Paul and Art are singing Silent Night while the news headlines from long ago play behind them There are much more interesting things to ponder than where Parsley, Sage Rosemary & Thyme hangs in the scheme of things. Why did Paul Simon just address a lampost? Why haven't I read Robert Frost. Is the theatre really dead? These are questions for another day. My bath is run.
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