Days of Miracle and Wonder – Paul Simon and the trials and triumphs of Graceland, by Ashley Kahn (White Rabbit/ Jonathan Ball)

The phenomenon of Graceland – controversial, Grammy-winning and money-spinning album, tours, documentary and a couple of books – would never have happened without a bootlegged cassette tape.

In the run-up to his 45^th birthday – incredibly 40 years ago – Paul Simon’s meteoric career appeared to be “losing steam and significance”. His 1983 album, Hearts and Bones, had been well received, reached Top 40 status and sold more than a million copies worldwide, but was generally regarded as a commercial failure. (Eish)

In 1984 Simon met Norwegian instrumentalist and songwriter Heidi Berg who had borrowed a bootlegged cassette tape called Gumboots: Accordion Jive Hits, Volume II. She in turn lent him the tape, asking him to return it. He never did.

Grammy-award-winning music historian and author Ashley Kahn writes that Simon found himself hooked by the music. “…he later credited Berg for introducing him to the music that gave rise to Graceland, mentioning her role in various interviews. Her name would appear first among those meriting special thanks in the album’s credits. Her indignation at Simon for making use of what she felt was her idea [she had hoped to work the Gumboots sound into her own music, and Simon had actually advised her to visit South Africa to hear the music first-hand] became the first in a series of complications he would face.”

Listening to the cassette, Simon wrote that the music “sounded vaguely like the “50s rock’n’roll of the Atlantic Records school of simple three-chord pop hits… It was very up, very happy music – familiar and foreign-sounding at the same time”.

One particular track led him to compose lyrics and reimagine other elements of the music… “For Simon, this was more than a bit of musical diversion. With the discovery of Gumboots, the desultory spell that had settled in a year before began to break.”

He was already primed. He knew of Hugh Masekela and Miriam Makeba from the late 1960s, and during a 1983 Simon & Garfunkel tour of Australia he had been listening to Ladysmith Black Mambazo tapes.

At the time musicians such as Stevie Wonder, Bono and Elvis Costello were complaining that the music business had destroyed musical spontaneity.

Or as Bono said of the 1980s: “When we look back at this decade we’ll have to say that rock & roll went to work for corporations and got up at 6am to go jogging.”

So Simon jetted off to Joburg, but it wasn’t – of course it wasn’t – plain sailing. In one of his early sessions with the SA musicians he discovered musical differences as well as language problems – not all the musicians were proficient in English.

Many of the musicians, such as drummer Vusi Kumalo and bassist Bakithi Kumalo, had never heard of Paul Simon.

Other early members of the ensemble were Ray Phiri of Stimela – who stayed for the album and the tours and was one of the few SA musicians familiar with Simon’s work – and Isaac “Mnca” Mtshali.

There’s a magic moment in a studio session in Johannesburg with Hilton Rosenthal, formerly of Gallo Records and later with his own label MINC, describing how the Graceland riff came about.

Rosenthal called Simon out and asked what key he was hearing the music in. Simon said C, but Rosenthal said it was F. Rosenthal asked one of the musicians, and he agreed it was F.

Simon then wanted everything but the rhythm erased from the tape, and called Phiri, Mtshala and Bakithi Kumalo back into the studio to see what they could put on top of the drum track.

Rosenthal recalled: “They struggled with a bunch of things and all of a sudden Ray came in with the Graceland riff – he hit the minor and Paul’s eyes just went, wow!”

There follows the work in New York, the playing around with the music recorded in Johannesburg, overlaying and chopping and rebuilding what they had. Lyrics were written.

Then there was the meeting – one that Simon was nervous of – with Joseph Shabalala of Ladysmith Black Mambaza, a group who sings a capello and whose music can’t really be tinkered with.

The book details the problem of the cultural boycott in effect at the time, with Simon saying he did not believe he had defied it since while he had recorded in South Africa, he had never performed here.

I was a fan of Simon & Garfunkel’s lyrical harmonies, and somehow Graceland never really did it for me. At 16, I loved For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her, written by Simon but sung by Art Garfunkel. Simon wrote: “Artie likes that song an awful lot… It was a very romantic song but I don’t like it.” Homeward Bound – “Again these songs feel like they’re before there was a me.” However, he was proud of Bridge Over Troubled Water.

But you don’t have to love Graceland (and millions of people clearly do) to find this story fascinating. Apart from breaking the cultural boycott Simon was accused of cultural appropriation but the performers in Graceland didn’t see it that way. They named him Vulindlela, the one who clears the path, or the American star who opened the gates to international acclaim of their brand of African music.

Many years later, in 2011, Simon and Dali Tambo met in Johannesburg. Two men who had once been on opposite sides of the boycott sat down in Tambo’s Johannesburg home and “there’s this electric energy between them”.

Simon told Tambo the political dispute was over, but the music still brought people together. “I apologise to you if my lack of awareness was harming the cause. I certainly never meant it.”

Tambo replied: “We have no malice towards you… We consider you somebody who fell into the whirlpool of that struggle, did beautiful creative things within it, but was subject to the political storms that were raging at the time and you got a bit wet. But we love you… You’re a brother and you have our respect and you’re welcome here.”

Amen.