Who will remember Paul Simon?

At first I thought he might have died, with that headline, but it is an analysis of his person and music, musical criticism.

There may be legitimate reasons for the chasm between Mr. Simon and younger audiences. Some of his lyrics portray him as an upscale urban intellectual who shields his emotions behind a well-considered phrase; when he writes at street level, there can be a sense that he's revealing research rather than experience. For all his musical explorations—gospel, reggae, Mexican folk, South African mbaqanga, Afro-Brazilian batucada and electronic soundscapes, among them—Mr. Simon's recordings often polish away needed bite and edge.

His popularity does not equal that of Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen, is a criticism.

His métier, it turns out, is life's often-baffling twists and triumphs, joys and jolts, and though some Simon compositions may be cryptic, they are easily deciphered. Mr. Simon has been hiding in plain sight since Simon & Garfunkel's debut disc was released some 47 years ago.

In performance, Mr. Simon was, as he's been for most of his career, a man who spends little time with image, preferring to lead with his songs, voice and guitar to transmit a knotty, deeply felt worldview. His place in the pantheon of American song long ago secured, Mr. Simon said as he left the stage, "I had a good time." So did we all, as anyone would have who has an abiding interest in musical adventure and lyrical excellence.