In a heartfelt letter to fans, Carly Simon has revealed she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.
“So many people have written to me, kindly wondering about my relative silence, asking how I am and what I have been doing,” the 83-year-old Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee wrote. “The truth is, I’ve been learning how to live with Parkinson’s disease.”
She added: “It has taken me some time to understand the diagnosis, to adjust to it, and to decide how much I wanted to say about it publicly. Parkinson’s is different for everyone, and it can be unpredictable. Some days I’m so tired I can’t get the day moving at all. On others, it gives me a little more room to move, think, work, and feel like myself.”
Simon also shared that she was recently treated for basal cell carcinoma on her face, which removed the cancer. “I have always been more critical of my appearance than anyone else could possibly imagine (check out the irony of having written ‘You’re So Vain’),” she wrote, “and this gave my inner critic quite a lot of new material.”
While Simon acknowledged that these events caused her to withdraw from the public eye (“If a person is allowed to hibernate during both winter and summer, then I have become an all-season bear”), it also resulted in her upcoming album Comes in Waves, which she announced last month. “There were melodies, verses, and ideas written down and tucked away for some unknown future when I would have the time and attention to finish them,” she said. “Apparently, that future is now.”
Comes in Waves, out Aug. 14, marks Simon’s first new album in nearly 20 years, following 2009’s Never Been Gone. The new record was recorded at her longtime home in Martha’s Vineyard and produced by her collaborator Paul Samwell-Smith. Her children, Ben and Sally Taylor, are featured on the album, while Sally created the cover art. The lead single, “Howl,” is out now.
In 2022, Simon was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, 26 years after becoming eligible. “There’s that first thought of, ‘I don’t believe it. It must be the House of Pancakes I just got into,’” she told Rolling Stone at the time. Truly, I was dumbfounded. I thought they must be mistaken.”
Read Simon’s full statement below.
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So many people have written to me, kindly wondering about my relative silence, asking how I am and what I have been doing. The truth is, I’ve been learning how to live with Parkinson’s disease.
It has taken me some time to understand the diagnosis, to adjust to it, and to decide how much I wanted to say about it publicly. Parkinson’s is different for everyone, and it can be unpredictable. Some days I’m so tired I can’t get the day moving at all. On others, it gives me a little more room to move, think, work, and feel like myself.
The problems began with arthritis in both knees and one hip. I eventually had all three joints replaced, out with the old and in with delicate bouquets of metal and plastic. After three replacement surgeries, I assumed my difficulty walking was simply an unfortunate and rather ironic part of the recovery process.
But my mobility continued to worsen. I had trouble standing up from low chairs and deep couches without someone offering me an arm. Overstuffed furniture became my enemy. Once seated, I could feel as though I had been swallowed by the chair and might remain there permanently, like a guest who had badly overstayed her welcome.
Eventually, there were periods when I could not walk without considerable help. My family and I knew that something more was going on. After an extensive evaluation at the Mayo Clinic, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
I began treatment, including taking medication to help with stiffness and other symptoms. There is no tidy or predictable schedule to the illness. It does not consult my calendar before deciding what kind of day I am going to have.
Parkinson’s is usually associated with movement, tremors, and balance, but it can affect much more than the body. It can bring anxiety, depression, exhaustion, and apathy. The apathy is particularly strange. You can find yourself lying there like a starfish drying in the sun, arms pointing in all directions, while nothing inside is telling you to get up, read, watch, write, sing, call someone, or do much of anything at all.
That has been one of the hardest things to explain. It is not simply sadness or laziness. It is as though the part of the brain that sends out invitations to participate in life has temporarily misplaced the guest list.
During this same period, I was also treated for basal cell carcinoma on my face. The cancer was removed, but the surgery affected my appearance and made me more self-conscious about being seen in public. I have always been more critical of my appearance than anyone else could possibly imagine (check out the irony of having written “You’re So Vain.”), and this gave my inner critic quite a lot of new material.
Between my mobility issues, the Parkinson’s diagnosis, the surgery, and the emotional effects of it all, withdrawing from public view was the most palatable reaction. If a person is allowed to hibernate during both winter and summer, then I have become an all-season bear.
But I have not stopped living, and I have not stopped working.
In the middle of all this, I began recording a new album, Comes in Waves. That still feels mysterious to me. Music has always known when to arrive. It has rescued me more times that I can count. It is like a cat or dog that quietly appears beside you when it senses you are not quite yourself.
The album includes songs and fragments of songs that had been waiting for me, some for years. There were melodies, verses, and ideas written down and tucked away for some unknown future when I would have the time and attention to finish them.
Apparently, that future is now.
Working on the music gave shape to days that did not always have much shape. It gave me somewhere to go without having to leave the room. It reminded me that illness can change your life without becoming the whole of your life.
I do not consider Parkinson’s a gift or a blessing. It is neither. It is difficult, frustrating, and sometimes frightening. I am still learning how to live with it and how to accept it without feeling that I have surrendered something essential.
I am still writing, singing, imagining, laughing, worrying, remembering, and occasionally getting trapped in an overstuffed chair.
I am deeply grateful to my children, my family, my friends, my caregivers, and the medical professionals who have helped me through this. Their love and patience have carried me through days when my own reserves were not enough.
I wanted to share this now because so many people have reached out with genuine concern. I am touched by that concern, even when I have not known how to respond.
These days I move more slowly, I lean on others more than I once did, and I have learned to accept that every day will look a little different. But I am still very much here.
Taylor Swift at the Curb Event Center at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee.
Here’s to 20 Years of ‘Taylor Swift’
It’s strange to think the songs we used to sing from one of the most famous self-titled debut album’s turn 20 years old today. You know the ones I’m talking about. The song in the car, my favorite song, the whispered songs, “Mary’s Song,” “Our Song.” Twenty years ago, Taylor Swift invited the world into the one she built with these melodies.
Taylor Swift wasn’t just the singer-songwriter’s first album that turned her into a rising Nashville star. It was also the first chapter that sealed Swift’s future success as a superstar musician. Within a year of its release on Oct. 24, 2006, the LP debuted at Number 19 on the Billboard Hot 100, earned platinum status, and made hits out of singles “Tim McGraw” and “Our Song.” It’s the reason we’re here today, reflecting on two decades into a career so massive, even the curly-haired mess of a dreamer couldn’t fathom it at 15 years old. That teenager grew into a pop goliath, but it’s easier to fathom when you remember that it’s always been about the songs.
With Taylor Swift, a precocious teen met listeners in their own teenage heartache, their deep-seeded loneliness, and that overarching, painful desire to fit in with a collection of country-pop gems. Who hadn’t cried over an unrequited love the way Swift did on “Teardrops on My Guitar” or felt the chilling rejection apparent on “Cold As You,” or the thrill of finding a best friend who lets you show your true colors like on “I’m Only Me When I’m With You” or even known a friend who suffered from eating disorders as discussed on “Tied Together With a Smile”? Here was a voice singing these stories she’d written, each sigh and imperfect note, making the keen observation of the worlds that much more sincere. That’s what connected with audiences and began the success story that we know so well today.
Throughout her self-titled debut, Swift tapped into the country music songwriting tradition of reminding listeners she’s the one with the pen. On the banjo-driven jaunt, “Our Song,” she laments the fact that there is no song to sum up her rosy romance — until she “grabs a pen and an old napkin” and cements the slamming screen doors and surreptitious late-night calls into her own song. With the help of producer Nathan Chapman and co-writer Liz Rose, Swift learned to master this trick.
Her debut single, “Tim McGraw” is the real shining example of this. On its face, the track chronicles a fleeting summer romance, but the wistful tune turns into a knockout that cemented Swift into country music history when she offers a prescient promise, “I hope you think of me.” With that simple line, the musician showed the transportative power of music.
Taylor Swift is also the first time we heard of the tropes that still run through the singer-songwriter’s catalog. The little black dress in “Tim McGraw,” the front seat in “Our Song,” the rain scattered across multiple songs, the photographs in “Picture to Burn,” the numbers 89 and 87 on “Mary’s Song (Oh My, My My).” With every nano-specific detail, Swift built out her own cinematic universe.
You can hear Swift map out the world-building that would turn into her next 12 albums on the self-titled centerpiece, “A Place in this World.” Over an acoustic guitar, she quips, “I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me” before declaring, “I’m just a girl, trying to find a place in this world.” That’s the kind of sassy, yet uncertain attitude she brought to her very first album. But really, she always knew what she was doing in some capacity, especially if the hidden or “A Place in This World” is any indication. The uppercase letters in a lyric booklet of lowercase ones spell out: “I Found it.”
In a fitting twist of fate, 2026 not only marks a major anniversary for Swift’s self-titled debut album, it’s also the first year she’s eligible to be recognized in two very prestigious institutions: the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. By Monday, the girl who cried all those tears on her guitar will be both the youngest woman to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall, and youngest-member of the Nashville edition.
During her Songwriters Hall of Fame acceptance speech, Swift reflected on the power of her craft. “As writers, we can only hope to meet people where they are in their lives,” she said. Since 2006, when she was just a high school freshman with a habit of writing songs on her bedroom floor or in math class, she has done exactly that.