National Geographic Music (National Geographic)

Paul Simon hasn't had too many flops in his storied career – and not for any failure to take risks, either. He's mined pop hits from unlikely international sources (South Africa, Brazil), and turned American audiences on to the original music that inspired him. But Simon's gift has always been distilling telling details from the ordinary and the overlooked into a pitch-perfect cultural moment. Which is why the case of The Capeman - his 1998, multimillion-dollar Broadway musical that failed to connect with theatergoers – remains so intriguing. But now, ten years later, The Capeman is finally getting a second hearing as part of the Brooklyn Academy of Music's month long Paul Simon retrospective: Love In Hard Times.

The series features three separate events, showcasing different stages of Simon's career. Songs From The Capeman kicked off the series on April 1-8; and revisited the original score from Simon's play (with some of the original cast). Under African Skies focuses on Simon's Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints albums, where he took on South African and Brazilian music, respectively. These performances run from April 10-13 and feature David Byrne, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Vusi Mahlasela, Luciana Souza and others. The musical series culminates with American Tunes, a survey of Simon's pop career and its impact on the American Songbook. This final program will run April 23-27 featuring Olu Dara, Josh Groban, Gilian Welch and others. Capping the retrospective will be a talk with Paul Simon, hosted by composer Phillip Glass, on May 5th.

The Capeman was based on the life of Salvador Agron, a teenage Puerto Rican immigrant and leader of the Vampires gang who, in 1959, was convicted of killing two white teenagers in a fight on a West Side playground. His case was a made-for-TV media sensation that captivated the city for weeks. Aragon's teenage arrogance and bravado (exemplified by his legendary "I don't care if I burn. My mother could watch me" remark) alternately thrilled and chilled New Yorkers. He was dangerous, yes, but also young and darkly glamorous and cool – something that wasn't lost on a teenage Paul Simon.

The original show had all the right ingredients. It boasted a stellar cast that included the Broadway debuts of Latin musical heavyweights Marc Anthony, Ruben Blades and Ednita Nazario; a book by Nobel Prize-winning Caribbean poet Derek Walcott; a crack Latin big band led by Oscar Hernandez; original new songs by Simon and a lurid, ripped-from-the headlines, true-life crime story.

Despite all this – and three Tony Award nominations - The Capeman was panned by the critics and closed in less than three months. In retrospect it was probably the wrong cultural moment for a musical about race, immigration, class, gangs and murder in New York. 1998 was, after all, "Guilliani Time," and a newly spiffed-up Broadway was more interested in welcoming Walt Disney than having its nose rubbed in the crime and grime of the bad old days. Simon released an album based on material from the play (Songs From The Capeman) and moved on. But the songs – and Agron's story – continue to captivate.

It was clear that last Sunday's audience was probably a better fit for The Capeman's material than the original Broadway crowds. BAM's raffish old Gilman Opera House held a healthy mix of Latin music aficionados, season subscribers, celebs (David Byrne, among others) and die-hard Simon fans. And they were all primed. When the evening's opening act – doo-wop legends Little Anthony and the Imperials – took the stage, the crowd was on its feet immediately.

The Imperials' brief, 3-song set felt like a convocation and a benediction; evoking an era when doo-wop and gangs still ruled New York streets. "Shimmy Shimmy, Ko-Ko-Bop," and "Tears on My Pillow" brought back '50s teenagerdom in all its overheated, overwrought glory – and the Imperials' undiminished, four-part harmonies still gave chills.

The Imperials were followed by the curtain-raising "Born In Puerto Rico," sung by legendary Puerto Rican singers: Jorge Maldonado and Danny Rivera ("The National Voice of Puerto Rico") – with a chorus that featured the whole cast. Though the song suffers a bit from having to bear too much of the narrative load of the play, it's emerged as an anthem of sorts, and the cast sang the hell out of it. It also introduced the production's crackerjack band – a bulked-up version of Oscar Hendandez's superb Spanish Harlem Orchestra. Hernandez is a legend in his own right, and was the arranger, producer and conductor of the original production of The Capeman.

But things didn't really get rolling until the second number, "In Mayagüez," which introduced Claudette Sierra, in the role of Salvador Agron's mother, Esmerelda. Sierra, who's no stranger to Broadway or Latin Jazz, gave a spectacular performance throughout – subtle and nuanced without ever giving up any vocal power or range. The beginning of the first act (which also introduces singer Ray de la Paz) is set in Puerto Rico, and introduces the larger themes of immigration, sin and redemption. Musically, it's a bit tamer than the rest of the program, with songs like "Aguinaldo" and "Santero" drawing heavily from Puerto Rican folkloric themes and showcasing tres player Nelson Gonzalez.

Salvador Agron, the titular "Capeman", isn't actually introduced until midway through the first act. Voiced by Latin pop star Frankie Negrón – himself a veteran of the original production – Sal is introduced in "Sweet Summer Nights," a gorgeous doo-wop paean to teenage dreams and the sensuous lure of the New York streets. The song also introduces versatile Latin star Obie Bermudez, who nearly steals the show. In the first act, Bermudez plays the leader of the gang that Sal is soon to join. Bermudez's solo "Vampires" is a tour de force – his seduction of Sal executed with seductive swagger and menace. Simon's songwriting really hits its stride here. He's obviously on firmer ground with the doo-wop numbers (especially the teenage-love raveup "Bernadette"), and his lucid breakdown of the tribalism of New York gangs in "Vampires" is smart and unsentimental.

Sal's actual crime is handled briefly and deftly with the song "Quality" giving way to original news footage of the real Agron's post-arrest perp walk. The real focus of the show isn't the crime itself, or the media storm surrounding it, but Sal's own journey towards the NY State prison system and some kind of redemption. Act One's final songs, the moving "Can I Forgive Him" and the swinging "Adios Hermanos" bring these themes to the fore.

The second act is more diffuse; chronicling the rest of Agron's life and his struggle to redeem himself. Sal is played here by the less-babyfaced Bermudez, who brings real regret to the part. But Sal is less subject than object in the second act, and Simon portrays him as buffeted by fate and the turbulence of the times (we're in the '60s and '70s now). While this is true to life – Agron's death sentence was commuted and he went on to not only learn to read and write in Prison, but to write his autobiography – it also loses some focus.

There seem to be more songs about Sal than featuring him in the second act: the sanctified "Jesus Es Mi Senor," the melancholy "Sunday Afternoon," the rockabilly raver "Killer Wants to Go to College" (featuring nasty, gutbucket guitarwork from Steve Conte), and the swinging "El Malecon" all catalog the effects that Agron's life had those around him. Maybe the most poignant song to voice this sentiment is the rockin' "You Fucked Up My Life" which features Bermudez, Jorge Maldonado and the production's men's chorus in an angry, accusatory number about the true costs of Agron's crime on his community.

Still, one of the standouts of the second act was "Trailways Bus," which brought Paul Simon onstage for a duet with Nicole Lequerica. A slightly countrified number, the song tells the story of Agron's 1977 prison break and unsuccessful flight to Phoenix, AZ. Simon's mere appearance was enough to bring the crowd to its feet.

Sal's death – complete with actual local news footage - is handled skillfully and without judgment. "Sal's Last Song" is a solo by Jorge Maldonado, in the persona of Agron's flawed, immortal soul facing down his sins. It's powerful stuff, especially as it was proceeded by "Lazarus/Last Drop of Blood" – which featured Ray De La Paz in the role of San Lazarus, Agron's patron saint and the unforgiving author of his sorrows. For Sal, forgiveness is never proffered and redemption remains unclear.

The production's final vocal number, "Esmerelda's Dream" brought back Sierra and Negron – backed by the rest of the cast – for a moving mother and child reunion in the afterlife. But what really brought down the house was the closer, a thunderous, joyous, defiant reprise of "Born In Puerto Rico" led by Danny Rivera.

Simon returned for a final encore, leading the whole cast through a celebratory version of his 1980 hit "Late In The Evening". The crowd was on it's feet for a standing ovation and The Capeman was vindicated at last.