Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Simon & Garfunkel's Greatest Hits: Sefton & Bartholomew - Windmill 1972

Lest anybody be foolish enough to think that one low budget Simon and Garfunkel hits compilation would be enough for anyone in 1972, I've come across this other effort that more or less covers the same ground as the last one. This time, the folk behind it are not anonymous 'Top Of The Poppers' session men but Sefton & Bartholomew, a duo who, although sounding like a firm of low rent undertakers, are actually (well as the back cover says anyway) "two Yorkshire lads" who have "tried successfully to re-create the special sound of their trans-Atlantic idols". Well fair enough I suppose, but I'll be the judge of how successful they are in recreating that "special sound" if you don't mind. Harrumph.
 
And now having sat through it, I can say at the start that those Yorkshire lads make a much better fist of it than the last lot. A lot better in fact. But before anyone breaks out the brandy and cigars, I should caveat that with the observation that the 'last lot' managed to set a bar low enough for an elephant to clear, and elephants can't jump. That's not to damn all my positivity as feint praise, and musically it strives to be as faithful as it can be, albeit in a rough approximation kind of way. But just like that over literal cover shot of a bridge over some fairly calm looking waters, it's simply not right.
 
That's because the overall impression I get from this is like tracing a Leonardo sketch and then photocopying it on a machine low on toner; it's 'there' in essence, and you can make out the detail, but it lacks all impact, substance and emotion - you simply don't 'feel' any of these songs the way you should with Simon and Garfunkel. Maybe it's churlish to over criticise on these grounds - Simon racked up Herculean hours in the studio to create the originals and so in at least getting to first base in replicating them on a shoestring, it would be fairer to recall Dr Johnson's comment about seeing a dog walking on its hind legs; it doesn't do it well, but the surprise is to find it can do it at all.
 
By far the weakest link in this chain, however, are the vocals; for all those attempts to mirror the music, Sefton and Bartholomew simply don't have the raw materials to pull them off. Not with any conviction anyway. Garfunkel's soaring choirboy tenor could fill a cathedral unamplified, but even in tandem the voices here would struggle to fill a garden shed. There's an attempt to disguise their shortcomings via an over use of pained falsettos and a treacly production that drowns them in echo, but despite the smoke and mirrors at heart they harmonise as well as water and electricity in a bathtub and the missed notes drop as subtly as spanners onto a tin roof with the wincing frequency of Chinese water torture.
 
I suppose this would be passable enough if they were earning their shilling by busking this stuff in a subway, but played through a decent system (which - ahem - I have), then nobody's fooled, there's nowhere to hide and they are exposed as surely as a searchlight pinpointing out two prisoners trying to escape over the wall dressed as a pantomime horse - a clumsy attempt that's doomed to failure. Again, if I couldn't afford the real McCoy then I really would rather go without; this wouldn't fill the Simon and Garfunkel sized gap in any collection.

No comments:

Post a Comment