“Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain 

still remains

Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams, I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

'Neath the halo of a street lamp

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

that split the night

And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe, more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never shared

and no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools," said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you"

But my words, like silent raindrops, fell

And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets

are written on the subway walls 

and tenement halls

And whispered in the sound of silence"

This song resonates deeply with me, and has done ever since I heard it my formative years. Even though it was written in 1964, I don’t remember hearing it until several years later. I like the melody, the poetry of the lyrics, the harmonies between Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel as well as the sentiments. Back then, I didn’t own so much as a cassette recorder, but I bought a good, sturdy one, compact, with handle, with birthday money received on my 21st. It was a little godsend. My small room at the Halls of Residence, Baker Street, London had a counter where it reposed, near a socket. As well as playing cassettes on this cherished acquisition, I could record voices, from, say, the radio, or a song, and produce DIY cassettes, albeit of dubious quality.

I love the opening line, “Hello darkness my old friend.”

It seems Paul Simon doesn’t see darkness as a bad thing, but has made friends with it. During the winter of discontent, 1974, that gave me something to think about, as we were sometimes plunged into darkness right in the heart of the city of London, and sometimes I’d work on my dissertation by candlelight, alone in my long shoebox of a room up on the seventh floor of a 24 floor building. Yes, it was sometimes lonely, especially coming from a large noisy family that entertained a lot. And being parted from the easy friendship of my twin sister.

“Within the sounds of silence“ ends the first verse, paradoxically. If I thought about it, yes, there were sounds breaking the silence, like the banging of a door, voices in the communal kitchen, the Archers theme tune played on a fellow student’s radio even, at 7pm.

The next verse starts: “In restless dreams I walked alone. Narrow streets of cobblestones.”

And there’s the powerful sentence: “When my eyes were stabbed by the light of a neon light”

The verse ending with almost the same words again: “And touched the sounds of silence., in fact the phrase the sounds of silence ends each verse bar one, verse 4, which has a small alteration.

But the song isn’t simply a ballad of feelings, Paul Simon, the writer, warns against the thousands of people “talking without speaking”, “hearing without listening”, and then, there’s the crescendo, “Fools”, said I “You do not know “Silence like a cancer grows…”

But, he says, his words “echoed in the wells of silence”

Then, reference to “the neon god they made”, and how people bowed and prayed to it, warning of a lack of communication, leading to isolation and apathy. The neon god being a replacement for honest communication, and spiritual connection.

Very relevant still 60 years on, when the march of technology is ever more upon us, enveloping us, you might say, and there’s much debate about the benefits and ills of social media and AI.

I like to listen to the song every now and then, and gain a sense of nostalgia, and awe for the here and now. It has a certain stillness I appreciate. Music can fill a silence, and not just in a concert hall.

Sally

A Moodscope member