Paul Simon review – at 84, back on stage after hearing loss, his resolute artistry is inspiring

In 2018, Paul Simon’s triumphant Homeward Bound: The Farewell Tour was intended as his goodbye to decades of full-scale touring. However, even chronic hearing loss hasn’t dimmed his desire to perform again. Here, assisted by partial recovery, specialised sound monitoring and sheer power of will, A Quiet Celebration is different from anything he – or perhaps anybody – has done before, certainly in arenas. Requiring silence and understanding, it’s a hushed and introspective reinvention rather than a euphoric victory lap. Drums are mostly stroked with brushes. The 84-year-old singer-songwriting legend’s voice has lost power and range, but frailty and vulnerability have brought intimacy and authority. Smiling as he addresses a cheering Merseyside audience for likely the last time, he calls it a “humbling experience”.

The evening begins with a complete performance of Seven Psalms, the 2023 song cycle which came to him in dreams. It’s a series of quietly haunting musings on life, love, God and death, laden with calm insights and occasional truth bombs, such as Trail of Volcanoes’ comment on the refugee crisis: “It seems to me we’re all walking down the same road, to wherever it ends.”

Mesmeric … Paul Simon. Photograph: Jake Edwards

The second half delves into his catalogue for songs which suit the format, including rarely performed deep cuts. The Late Great Johnny Ace captures the 13-year-old Simon’s shock at the accidental death of one of his first pop heroes. Slip Slidin’ Away has a new countrified arrangement. Homeward Bound was written nearby (“Widnes or Warrington, wherever there’s a plaque is where I wrote it!”, he jokes) and the crowd’s accompaniment helps the chorus home. Between two reworked cuts from Graceland, he explains that bassist Bakithi Kumalo is the last survivor of that seminal album’s African musicians.

In the later stages, emotions well. People dab their eyes as he delivers a mesmeric The Sound of Silence in the same voice/guitar form he first debuted it in folk clubs in the 1960s. Another compelling moment comes during the extended new arrangement of The Boxer, when he suddenly yells the line “I am leaving, but the fighter still remains” and is cheered to the rafters.