Paul Simon's 1986 album "Graceland" is approaching its 40th anniversary. It stands today as the magnum opus of an artist whose work appears many times over in the American musical canon. Through the years, the album has been sold more than 16 million times in various evolving forms, from LPs to cassettes to CDs and downloads. Simon himself considers it his best.

By any measure, as a recording and a concert experience, "Graceland" amounted to one of the most top musical experiences of the 1980s, a breath of acoustic authenticity in an era resounding with digital synthesizers, sequencers and drum machines.

Nothing Simon created before or after "Graceland" rang with quite the same melodic invention, rhythmic snap or self-referential wit, poking fun at his middle-aged self (he was 44 and recently had divorced for the second time). "These are the roots of rhythm," he sang on "Under African Skies," one of the album's memorable tracks, a duet with Linda Ronstadt. "And the roots of rhythm remain."

"Graceland," released Aug. 25, 1986, does in fact remain. Its songs, including "You Can Call Me Al," "The Boy in the Bubble" and "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes," still play on adult contemporary playlists. Its anniversary this year is being celebrated in tributes across the United States and Europe, including a special concert at London's Royal Albert Hall featuring Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the Zulu choir that collaborated with Simon on the album.

In the acclaim lies one other unique--and uncomfortable--aspect of the album's legacy: the "controversial" tag many reviews gave "Graceland" back in the day, one that the album has never shaken. Forty years on, the criteria by which Simon was judged have faded in memory, and the contextual details have been blurred by time.

"Graceland" was charged with twin indictments: cultural appropriation and defiance of the anti-apartheid boycott. Let's look at the charges separately.

For Simon, "Graceland" was a return-to-roots project. He heard echoes of the rock and roll of his youth in the music of South African townships. A cassette lent to him by a friend containing "township jive," already old-school in South Africa at that point, lit an inspirational fuse. Coming out of a creative doldrum, Simon began to invent lyrics to match the upbeat melodies and rhythm.

Whether sourcing musical inspiration is labeled exploitation or........

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