Many of the covers Bob Dylan provided audience members on recent tours have been covers of what many will consider classics. His time with the great American Songbook is well documented and formed the base for a near-decade worth of his career, a listening experience like no other. A few contemporary covers have since slipped through the cracks of his work on stage, and this work of The Boxer from Simon and Garfunkel is among the very best. A bit of a lopsided endeavour this one, but to hear Paul Simon and Dylan lay out the fundamentals of this honest and heartbreaking song is a treat for the ears. Messy in places but such is the suddenness of cover work. It is not like there is much time to plan for these things – as evidenced by the Dylan covers of Bruce Springsteen. Something charming about them, still, as there is with The Boxer.
Part of it is the timelessness of the, another major player in this is the instrumental quality. A booming song with enough parts to it where the percussion or guitar work springs to life, garnering whoops and hollers from the audience before receding into the lyrical joys once more. It is a timely piece and well-paced, the tempo guided more by the instrumentals than anything Simon and Dylan can do. It makes sense for Dylan to be attracted to this song. Its Biblical origins and the intertextuality of the marriage between faith and what was, at the time, popular music, is something Dylan tried to do himself a decade before this performance, two decades after The Boxer released. For some of this song, it sounds as though Dylan is rekindling a passion he had for his religious turn, a deep-held belief and respect for the men who managed it before he tried.
Tenderness is the reason The Boxer works, and through this is the autobiographical necessity. “lie-la-lie” only works when there are stronger lyrics to surround it. As the crux of the song, it needs a heavy build before and after. This cover is nothing shy of spectacular, primarily because it maintains the form heard on the original song, but adds in plenty of instrumental differences. Simon managed to piece together a song of truth and beauty, most of it coming from the honesty of his lyrics and the dependable, heartstring-pulling charm of easily repeated lyrical showcases. The “lie-la-lie” sounds right in just about any voice, and with Dylan joining this flock of optimism in the face of burning critical reception, The Boxer feels stronger than ever.
Artists covering the work of another is a welcome, frequent experience. It either marks a tribute to the artist or the song and for Dylan it is often both. But when he tackles contemporary music like The Boxer it is given new life. Simon and Dylan had vastly different experiences in the 1960s, and with the reflections we can now make on Simon and Garfunkel as a group, the self-criticism and outside influences which formed the core of The Boxer feel horrid. It too sounds the same when Dylan puts his voice to it, a chance to expose the feelings of self-doubt despite the formidable, career-best work in his hands. A monumental cover is only as strong as the singer in charge of it, and thankfully Dylan rarely misses with these sudden stage moves. Dylan had covered The Boxer already for Self Portrait, but the spontaneity of a duet will almost always win outright.
