What, exactly, is a ‘Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine’?
To be quite honest, the lyricism of Paul Simon is frequently so vivid and captivating that I genuinely believe he could convince me to do anything and that I would think it was a good idea.
Now, I’m not saying that he’s the sort of person who would do this with any kind of malicious intent, and perhaps I’d think twice about committing a crime simply because a folk rock legend instructed me to do so under duress, but generally speaking, his words have such an ability to make mundane reality seem like a fantastical situation that it’s almost impossible to determine whether you’re present on Earth or in his imagined realm.
Given that, when Simon, alongside his equally trustworthy associate in Art Garfunkel, tells me he can sell me a ‘Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine’ that can “eliminate your pain” and “end your daily strife”, you better believe I’m falling for it. Simon says, you obey, right? Well, hold your horses there; what exactly is it he’s trying to palm you off with? Have you even considered how much this extravagant purchase is going to set you back? Is this all a gigantic con?
Okay, as appealing as this all-singing, all-dancing miracle contraption that Simon has among his available wares might sound, perhaps he’s overselling it a little. There can’t possibly be anything this fancy and powerful available to the general public, and he’s surely just using the power of advertising to dupe me into parting with a wad of cash for a hunk of scrap metal. What even is a ‘Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine’?
Having talked myself down from this heightened state after realising that I’m not exactly sure what Simon is trying to trick me into, it’s time to investigate his shady business practice and establish exactly what this superfluous junk actually is.
What is Paul Simon selling in ‘Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine’?
For context, Simon isn’t actually selling anything himself and is actually making a satirical point about how advertising during the 1960s had spiralled out of control. Consumer culture and capitalism were rampant in the US at this time, and while many households were lapping up all of the advertising that was being pumped into their consciousness via television screens, magazine inserts and billboards, others were much more sceptical of what was actually being sold to them.
Simon is lambasting consumer culture by making it sound as though he’s working for an ad agency and attempting to pitch his fabulous product that can seemingly do anything you want it to as a fix for all of life’s problems. There are significantly more trading standards in place that prevent companies from promising something they can’t give you, which is why cigarettes are now sold in an off-grey package with grotesque images of physical deformity rather than advertised by a man with a shit-eating grin on his face.
As for what the machine that Simon is selling is, there isn’t any real indication of what it could be, as his descriptions are so over the top and unrealistic that it wouldn’t be possible to manufacture a product that can simultaneously achieve all of its purported unique selling points. It’s alleged that Simon wrote the song while at a launderette in London waiting for his clothing to be returned, and found his mind wandering towards how he could sell such a novel invention before turning towards a more cynical viewpoint.
Regardless of whether the product exists or not, Simon ended up being able to shift approximately three million units in America – of Simon and Garfunkel’s third studio album, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme, that is.
