The first in the Lasers in the Jungle track-by-track look at Surprise.

“How Can You Live In The Northeast”

Paul Simon has never been much of a political writer. He emerged as a songwriter in the 1960s, when the sheer newness of the folk-rock sound made popular musicians cultural objects, caught up in an intergenerational clash that had much to do with the role of popular art in a civilization’s political expression. The great songs of the 1960s, both Simon’s and those of his peers (Bob Dylan, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Neil Young) were political in their interpretation, though not necessarily in their intent. The Simon & Garfunkel tunes that have lasted into their fourth decade are not those that are overtly political, like “He Was My Brother” or “A Church Is Burning.” The music that lasts is neither topical nor eagerly direct; even “The Sound of Silence,” Simon’s first number one hit, skirted around the idea of social communication and political alienation without addressing current events head on.

Simon’s journey to South Africa in the mid-1980s was shrouded in politics despite his efforts to make a record that was almost anti-political. He has described Graceland as “benign,” reflecting his choice to let the music make his point gently. Songs like “The Boy In The Bubble” and “Homeless” can and should be appreciated in the remarkable context they were recorded – by a group of oppressed black musicians whose commitment to artistic experimentation transcended mere earthly political trappings. The search for freedom, hope and redemption runs though Graceland; the songs, however, do not sag from carrying any kind of direct political message.

It’s appropriate, then, that Paul Simon’s new record, which in part uses political division and rancour as a springboard to more interesting ideas, is called Surprise. The politics are nowhere more present than on the opening cut, “How Can You Live In The Northeast.” On the day of its release, only two days following the song’s live debut in New Orleans, it’s impossible to listen to the opening track without thinking of Katrina, 9/11 and Iraq. ”Northeast” returns to an idea expressed at the end of Graceland, in “All Around The World or The Myth Of Fingerprints”: that we humans, so seemingly different, have more in common than we think. On “Nightline,” Simon said, of “Northeast” that “everybody has a reason”; we all arrive in the world “weak as the winter sun,” we all grapple with issues of faith and are infused with out own personal histories.

The question’s condescendingly posed in the refrain (“How can you be a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu, how can you?”) cuts to the core of the divisiveness that has gripped American political discussion in recent years. The verses, by contrast, tell the tale of a family enjoying fireworks and fireflies, manmade and natural occasions for marvel, on a 4th of July, though the image of “endless” skies flashing in the glow of tactical missile strikes is unavoidable. Later, Simon sings about the things we all share: “everybody hears an inner voice, a day at the end of the week to wonder and rejoice,” yet, tragically, “we sleep in the dark.”

The song ends with an answer of sorts to the questions it poses. “I’ve been given all I wanted,” Simon sings, “only three generations off the boat.” Perhaps divisiveness can lead to healing if we acknowledge our own roots and count our blessings.

Musically, “Northeast” conjures up Graceland’s first cut, “The Boy In The Bubble,” using the slightest bit of electric dissonance to introduce the listener to Simon’s latest sonic locus, as he did twenty years ago with an accordion and four blasts of an African drum kit. The Surprise opener lays out the nature of Simon’s collaboration with Brian Eno. Unlike, say, U2, who sought from Eno total reinvention, instructing him to toss their distinctive sound in the bin, Simon has provided Eno with enough space to flex his musical muscles without imposing on Simon’s own production.

“Northeast” flips from major to minor chords, alternating between a lovely fingerpicked electric melody over the chorus and a heavy, unsettling musical movement during the verses. It culminates with some passionate, lively playing, pushed to the brink by Eno’s electronics. A recent live performance took the finish one step further, with Simon’s voice processed to sound cold and metallic.

Paul Simon has always had the right idea about the place for politics in a pop song. You couldn’t ignore the politics of Graceland, but its remarkable how absent they are from the songs. Bob Dylan arrived at the same place from a different path early in his career: having written more on-topic political songs, he bickered with media and fans who foolishly tried to pigeonhole him as a troubadour protester. Surprise uses politics to arrive at deeper conclusions. “Sure Don’t Feel Like Love” moves form the frustrations of voting to the inadequacies and failures of personal relationships. “Northeast” takes political divisiveness and turns it into a statement about generations and familial roots. “Outrageous” wanders from potshots at our culture and politics to a providential homecoming. The inverted political song is so much more rewarding – and accessible – than something like Neil Young’s “Let’s Impeach the President for Lying” (which is nonetheless a good song on a good album; it just has less staying power).

Next time, “Everything About It Is A Love Song”:

“By the time Simon sings of ‘golden clouds … shuffling the sunshine,’ we’re off in another world.”