|
But behind the headlines and sound bites is another kind of narrative, told in common language, about ordinary people. And what these simple stories tell us about ourselves the best and worst in us can prove more resonant and revealing than what daily passes by in the March of Time. "There is a very strong political and sociological element to this work, but that's not really what it's about. At its core is a moral question, about the possibility of redemption, here at the end of the Twentieth Century. If someone has committed an act as terrible as a double murder, who decides whether they can be redeemed or not? Does society decide? Can the criminal look within himself and find forgiveness? Or is it simply impossible, in this day and age, to pay the penalty for sin and be cleansed?" So says Paul Simon about the story behind the story of his extraordinary new work, The Capeman. Over seven years in the making, this major Broadway production is also the multiple-Grammy winning artist's first new album since 1990's acclaimed Rhythm Of The Saints. Both the long-awaited musical and his new Warner Bros. Records release, Songs From The Capeman, recount just such an event in the hidden history of America, through a stunning range of new, original songs. A fleeting moment, soon forgotten by all but those whose lives it changed...the saga of Salvador Agron, The Capeman, at once lays bare the essential truths of human nature, exposing a raw nerve in our cultural consensus and giving shape to hopes and fears we hold in common. Through the unprecedented collaboration of Paul Simon and Nobel Prize-winning poet Derek Wolcott, what comes to vibrant life in The Capeman is not only the very real people who played out this tragic fable, but the part we all play in asking, and answering, the moral questions at its core. It's a conversation told in music glorious, exuberant, richly-textured music that could only come from the heart and soul of Paul Simon. From doo-wop, soul and rock 'n' roll, to mambos and bombas and the rich, rhythmic heritage of Puerto Rico, the thematic depths of The Capeman are equaled by the dazzling heights of its songs. "If the sound of the music is right," Simon asserts, "then we'll believe the story." And from its opening notes, The Capeman draws us in to a world made real by lyric and melody and rhythm. That world is New York City, in the summer of 1959. "Salvador Agron was called The Capeman because he wore a black cape with red lining," Simon explains. "He was a member of an Upper West Side gang called The Vampires, and on the night of August 30, he went to a rumble with another gang from Hell's Kitchen called The Norsemen." What happened next became headlines in New York City during those dog days at the tail end of the decade. "The Norsemen didn't show up," Simon continues," and because The Vampires were pumped up and ready to fight, they singled out a few innocent kids who were hanging around the park." Before it was over, two victims lay dead, while Agron and another gang member, Tony Hernandez, aka The Umbrella Man, became the subject of one of the most intensive manhunts in the city's history. "Agron, who was sixteen at the time, was captured and quoted as saying 'I don't care if I burn. My mother could watch.' He seemed completely remorseless and the city was horrified. The Capeman became a symbol of evil, of something terribly wrong with the system, and he was the youngest person in New York State ever condemned to die in the electric chair. After three years on Death Row, his sentence was commuted by Governor Rockefeller." It was from this raw material, a tabloid tale of vintage '50's juvenile delinquency, that Simon took the inspiration for The Capeman. "I really don't know what drew me to the material," he confides. "I remembered the events, of course. Everyone who lived in New York at the time remembers The Capeman. But the concept of turning it into a musical just came to me as a complete idea in late 1988, after Graceland. The possible musical juxtapositions struck me doo-wop and Latin rhythms....a very evocative combination. So I began researching the story, reading the newspaper accounts and seeking out people who either knew Sal or were of his generation. I talked to the prison chaplain at Sing Sing, to Sal's sister and his mother and I interviewed a representative of a group called Parents of Murdered Children of New York State, a very painful experience and one that caused me to consider dropping the whole project."
That point of view was provided by Derek Wolcott, the Nobel laureate whose own Caribbean roots would prove invaluable in telling the story of a transplanted Puerto Rican family. "I have known and loved the work of Derek Wolcott for years," Simon reveals. "I was reading a lot of his poetry when I was writing Rhythm Of The Saints and he was my first and only choice for a lyric collaborator on The Capeman. Of course, it was a little intimidating at first, but it didn't take very long before we settled into a good working relationship." "It was a partnership," Simon admits, "more akin to the way I work than the way he works. As opposed to getting a lyric from Derek and then setting it to music I would say, 'Now, this feels like a rhythm scene. Here are the various rhythm choices we could use.' And he'd tell me which one he liked and we'd go on to decide which key sounded best and from there, we'd began to shape the song before we even considered the lyrics. Other times, I'd write most of the words and then bring it to Derek, who would fill in and edit. Sometimes, I'd take his lyrics and move them around inside an arrangement. Or we'd just start from scratch." 'Starting from scratch' also defined Simon's approach to creating the culturally diverse sounds of The Capeman. "I would say to myself, 'Now, this song takes place in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico in 1949. What does Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, 1949 sound like? So, I head down to Puerto Rico and, because I know a lot of musicians all around the world, I'd go into a studio with some of them and start to record. In fact, for the first year or so of the project, I was just trying to get a feel for things, learning what a plena sounds like, what a bolero sounds like, how to play a danza. From working with so many great musicians in so many different cultural idioms on Graceland and Rhythm of The Saints, I knew the trick was to find that common language. For instance, on the doo-wop numbers in The Capeman, I expanded the traditional doo-wop quartet or quintet and filtered it through what I'd learned with Ladysmith Black Mombazo on Graceland. What I ended up with was accapella singing, but for ten voices. At the same time, I wanted to remain true to the sound of those classic New York doo-wop records." While the stage production of The Capeman contains nearly forty new songs, Simon culled thirteen key compositions to include on Songs From The Capeman. And, while he performs most of the material on the album, the artist has made a few conspicuous exceptions. "I chose the songs that I felt I was best suited to sing," he explains, "and for the most part left out the ones that had multiple characters. Although, on 'Can I Forgive Him?' I sing three different women's parts. I wanted more than anything to make an entertaining album, something that could stand on its own. But I was also hoping that people would be intrigued, that hearing the album would make them want to see the musical. I think, finally, that it does sound like a new Paul Simon album, even though I have three of the principles from the play singing on some tracks." Spotlighted on Songs From The Capeman is salsa sensation and accomplished actor Ruben Blades, who plays Salvador Agron as an adult, and shares a duet on the album's haunting centerpiece "Time Is An Ocean," with newcomer Marc Anthony portraying the younger Capeman. Also featured is another fast-rising singer and performer, Ednita Nazario as Agron's mother, heard on the track "Sunday Afternoon." While the saga of The Capeman faded quickly from public consciousness following his conviction, it is in the later chapters of Salvador Agron's life that Simon found some of his richest dramatic and musical material. "He had a long journey through the prison system," the artist continues, "serving twenty years before he was released in 1979. Not surprisingly, he found religion on Death Row and later, developed an astute political consciousness. In the mid-'70s, while attending college classes, he felt his life was in danger because of the resentment and resistance of the authorities toward his getting an education. With six months left before his parole from a minimum security facility in upstate New York, he absconded, taking a Trailways bus to Arizona, where he spent a few weeks in the desert before turning himself in. He died of natural causes in 1986 at the age of 43. The album and the play begin on the day he is finally released from prison after serving his full term. He heads home, to his mother's house, through the old neighborhood, and the play becomes a memory piece, as he travels back through his life." It is this seamless mesh of past and present, fact and memory, that is so brilliantly woven in such key selections as "Killer Goes To College" and "Trailways Bus." "Sal evolved from a barely literate wild boy to a thinking, politicized writer and activist. He actually wrote his life story, and it was only natural to use him as a narrator and guide of his own history." Produced by the artist, Songs From The Capeman reflect that history in tracks that are alternately heartrending and harrowing. "In the song 'The Vampires,' and elsewhere, there is some very strong language," Simon explains. "I thought a lot about it, and of the necessity of putting a warning sticker on the album. But in the end I decided to go ahead because I felt that, even though the language is harsh, there can be something beautiful in that harshness." On the other end of the musical spectrum is the album's debut single, "Bernadette." "Personally speaking, this is my favorite song since 'Graceland,'" Simon enthuses. "It's a love song that takes place right before Sal wanders into the neighborhood of another gang, a place he shouldn't be, and he sings this to his girlfriend. I was really trying to evoke that innocent part of his life, before he became a symbol of so much, for so many people." With Songs From The Capeman, Paul Simon and his extraordinary cast of collaborators have imbued the symbol with flesh-and-blood life, complex meaning and a compassion that transforms this tale from the barrio into an unforgettable musical metaphor for the ties that bind and the wounds that heal. |
|
Simon persevered, however, and found himself considering
quite a different option. "The difference between The
Capeman and anything else I've ever done, is that I
collaborated on the songs for the first time. My usual
approach to songwriting is to put down whatever is on my
mind and the search is to find out what's on my mind. But
the character that speaks is usually me. Now, suddenly, I
was writing for several distinct characters, sometimes
within the space of a single song, and I found I needed a
different point of view."