•  
•  
• Before it became sordidly meme-efied, Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sound of Silence’ was rightfully heralded as one of the greatest folk songs ever written. As it happens, the very fact that it found itself pasted onto a thousand cliched ten-second clips is testimony to how perfectly it encapsulated that cold wind feeling of utter despair, a feeling that sadly resonates with universality. The imagery of the song is something that any literary prose master would hope to replicate. The old collar turned up to shield from a brisking headwind under a hazy streetlamp glow is etched into the psyche of the listener like a postcard picture. And the D minor soundscape that this fleeting snapshot emerges from creates a brooding atmosphere that has rarely been rivalled in music. 

It is apparent in the anthem that the song is based on a real-life touchstone and that is borne out in the tale of how it came to be. Art Garfunkel had finished college and was pursuing music with Paul Simon at the time it was written, but the song goes back to his days at Columbia University in New York City. 

Therein he met a fellow scholar called Stanford Greenberg. The pair quickly became close friends. Then, suddenly, tragedy struck when Greenberg was watching a baseball game and his vision descended into a blur. He was informed it was merely conjunctivitis, but when he completely lost his sight, it was clear that he had been misdiagnosed. Sadly, glaucoma meant that his optic nerve was no longer functional, and Greenberg was declared blind. 

He became reclusive and left college in a slump of depression. However, Garfunkel willed him back. He offered up a hopeful beacon to Greenberg to show that he might have lost his sight, but everything didn’t have to perish along with it. Thus, Garfunkel promised to walk him to classes, guide him around campus, and offer up his constant support. The folk singer even adopted the moniker Darkness as a mark of empathy when he was with his troubled friend.

However, knowing that his time beside his friend was numbered, Garfunkel was keen to usher him towards independence. One day, while at Grand Central Station, Garfunkel had to urgently return to university for an assignment he had forgotten about.

This meant that Greenberg was abandoned in the hectic melee of New York at its busiest. Despite calling it the “worst couple of hours” of his life, Greenberg persevered and made it back to university where Garfunkel grabbed his arm and told him that the exam was a ruse and he had followed him home the whole way, congratulating him on his independence. 

This tale would later inspire Simon’s lyrics surrounding the song. The folk anthem is a guide through troubled times, a mark of empathy in turmoil, and a beacon of hope that you are not alone—in short, the same support that Garfunkel offered to his friend.

A friend who, ultimately, had a hand in helping the album get made. One day, Greenberg received a call from Garfunkel asking whether he could help fund the $400 that the folk duo needed to record their album. He only had $404 in his bank account, but he gave the full amount. The rest is a rather beautiful piece of history.