Simon & Garfunkel’s legendary partnership ultimately collapsed under years of unspoken resentment, clashing egos, and deep creative imbalance—turning a childhood friendship that once produced timeless harmonies into a heartbreaking, irreversible rift.

For more than half a century, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel have been remembered as the golden duo of American folk-rock—a partnership that produced some of the most hauntingly beautiful harmonies ever recorded.

But behind The Sound of Silence, Bridge Over Troubled Water, and sold-out arenas from New York to London, a fracture had been forming, long before fans realized anything was wrong.

Now, decades after their final split, new accounts from those close to the pair—and rare recollections from Simon and Garfunkel themselves—offer the clearest, most human explanation of what really ended one of music’s most iconic friendships.

Their story begins in Queens, 1953.

Two 11-year-old boys—Paul, the aspiring songwriter with big ambition, and Arthur, the boy with the angelic voice—met in elementary school and quickly discovered they made a remarkable team.

They recorded their first single under the name Tom & Jerry in 1957, even scoring a minor hit.

But the seeds of tension were already there.

Garfunkel later admitted in an interview that he “always sensed” Paul wanted not just success, but recognition as the creative force.

Simon, in contrast, recalled feeling overshadowed by the effortlessly charismatic singer who delivered his words to the world.

By the late 1960s, the duo had become global stars.

Mrs. Robinson exploded on the charts after being featured in The Graduate in 1967, and their 1970 masterpiece Bridge Over Troubled Water became one of the bestselling albums in history.

But while the world saw two perfectly harmonized partners, behind the scenes their relationship had become strained by ego clashes, artistic differences, and a growing sense of inequality.

One moment has been cited repeatedly as a breaking point: Garfunkel’s decision in 1968 to accept a role in the movie Catch-22, leaving Simon alone to finish much of their music.

According to a longtime tour manager, Simon once vented, “He left me doing all the work.

” Garfunkel later countered: “I thought we were strong enough to survive time apart.

” But the imbalance deepened.

When Simon presented early versions of new songs—including the early structure of The Only Living Boy in New York, a track inspired directly by Garfunkel’s absence—he reportedly told a friend, “It’s like singing to a disappearing partner.”

Tension escalated further in the studio for Bridge Over Troubled Water.

Simon originally intended to sing the title track himself, but producer Roy Halee—and Garfunkel—believed Art’s soaring voice fit the song better.

Simon agreed, but privately felt pushed aside once again.

He later said, “I wrote the song… then I stepped back and watched someone else stand in the spotlight.

” Garfunkel, years later, admitted he sensed the sting: “Maybe that hurt him more than I understood.”

The official breakup came quietly in 1970, without a dramatic announcement.

One associate recalled a blunt exchange during a late-night meeting in New York, Paul saying, “I think we’re done,” and Art replying, “Maybe we’ve been done for a while.

” Still, they reunited multiple times over the years—1981’s legendary Concert in Central Park drew over half a million people, a testament to the magic they could still create together.

But even then, arguments backstage hinted at wounds never fully healed.

One sound engineer remembers hearing Simon mutter, “We’re great onstage, impossible offstage.”

In the 2000s, attempts at reconciliation repeatedly collapsed.

During a 2010 interview, Garfunkel called Paul “the person who forgot to forgive,” while Simon confessed in his memoir that they “couldn’t go back to being the boys from Queens.

” Their final public performance together came in 2010, after which health issues—particularly Garfunkel’s vocal cord problems—made any future reunion unlikely.

What truly ended their friendship, according to those closest to them, wasn’t a single explosive fight or betrayal.

It was the slow accumulation of unspoken resentments, the clash between two brilliant but different temperaments, and the painful reality that both men needed the partnership—but struggled with the imbalance within it.

One producer summarized it best: “They loved each other like brothers… and fought like brothers, too.”

Today, both Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel live largely separate lives.

Simon continues to record and explore new musical landscapes, while Garfunkel writes poetry, performs selectively, and reflects often on their shared past.

Though neither publicly expresses anger anymore, there’s a lingering melancholy in their comments—two men who once created perfect harmony, now forever out of tune.

And maybe, in the end, their breakup wasn’t a tragedy, but the human cost of creating music that touched millions.

Their voices no longer merge onstage, but their story—and their songs—remain inseparable in the hearts of fans around the world.