You think of S&G, you think of bright prickly harmonies. You see couples with picnic baskets enjoying lunch by the seaside. You imagine a big bonfire singalong on a beach. You would never think of a song like "Richard Cory".
This is a tale of jealously, angst, confusion, simoultaneous disdain and awe for the rich and famous socialite with seemingly no flaws. He owns half ot his whole town. He was born into money. You love to hate him, but then when you meet him, or see him interviewed, you can't help but admit that, yeah, that guy's awesome. I wish I was him. I still hate him though.
Simon and G feel the same way. They dream of the orgies on his yacht. They toil in Richard Cory's factory. The instrumentation is sparse, detached, angular - the acoustic guitars leave little to the imagination. The opening licks to the verses are brief, muddled, bleak. The drums are simple, driving, oppressive. you learn to love to hate Richard Cory after a few lilstens.
And then the end, sweet redemption, or disillussion - Richard Cory goes home one night and....silence....no chord....Paul barks out "and put a bullet in his head". Another pause. Think about it. Then the drums come back in and guess what - You still work in his factory, your life is unchanged, you'd still rather be famous and dead than working your dead-end job.
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