Hey! Guess who’s performing at the annual Live at the Marquee festival in Cork on July 10! James Taylor!

Now guess which of the fifteen performers sold out first. James Taylor!

Fuck!

He’s playing in Dublin two days later, but that gig is also sold out. I’m keeping an eye on the resale market, but it’s a long shot. James Taylor is very, very popular in Ireland, and I’d probably have to pay double if any tickets became available. I may be able to catch his show in Amsterdam if it syncs with an upcoming meeting in Brussels, but my director hasn’t confirmed the date.

Fuck the bureaucracy!

This is my first review of a James Taylor album after fourteen years of writing classic music reviews, so you may wonder why I waited so long to review one of the most acclaimed musicians of the last fifty-plus years. It wasn’t like I never heard of the guy, as my parents are big fans and played his music frequently when I was growing up.

Truth: I avoided James Taylor because I knew I had to start my exploration of his music with Sweet Baby James and was puzzled as to why the album is considered one of the greatest of all time.

My impression was that it was a nice album with one great song (“Fire and Rain”), some good songs, some filler, and plenty of promise. By contrast, it’s #109 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, #228 in Colin Larkin’s All-Time Top 1000 Albums, and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2002. Curious about how the album rose to such great heights, I read several reviews and found one that provided a reasonable perspective while unintentionally validating the source of my resistance.

“The heart of James Taylor’s appeal is that you can take him two ways. On the one hand, his music, including that warm voice, is soothing; its minor-key melodies and restrained playing draw in the listener. On the other hand, his worldview, especially on such songs as “Fire and Rain,” reflects the pessimism and desperation of the 1960s hangover that was the early ’70s. That may not be intentional: “Fire and Rain” was about the suicide of a fellow inmate of Taylor’s at a mental institution, not the national malaise. But Taylor’s sense of wounded hopelessness — “I’m all in pieces, you can have your own choice,” he sings in “Country Road” — struck a chord with music fans, especially because of its attractive mixture of folk, country, gospel, and blues elements, all of them carefully understated and distanced. Taylor didn’t break your heart; he understood that it was already broken, as was his own, and he offered comfort. As a result, Sweet Baby James sold millions of copies, spawned a Top Ten hit in “Fire and Rain” and a Top 40 hit in “Country Road,” and launched not only Taylor’s career as a pop superstar but also the entire singer/songwriter movement of the early ’70s that included Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Jackson Browne, Cat Stevens, and others.“—William Ruhlmann, AllMusic

Say wut? Gee, I hate to disagree with a noted musical historian, but those bold-faced words are full of bald-faced lies. Joni Mitchell had already released two singer-songwriter albums and was working on her third when Sweet Baby James was released. Cat Stevens staked his claim to singer-songwriter status in 1967 and, like Joni, was working on the follow-up album (Tea for the Tillerman) at about the same time. Jackson Browne was asked about influences and James Taylor is missing from his list: “The Beatles, Bob Dylan, but also Hank Williams, Doc Watson. I loved Dave Van Ronk. And Mississippi John Hurt.” It is true that James encouraged Carole King to release her first album (Writer), but that was before the release of Sweet Baby James. If Ruhlmann were still alive, I’d call him up and say, “Hey, dude! Ever hear of Leonard Cohen, Laura Nyro, Janis Ian, or Gordon Lightfoot, all of whom entered the singer-songwriter scene in the 60s?”

Sweet Baby James launched James Taylor’s lengthy career, but it did not launch an entire movement. This is the same sort of Baby Boomer hyperbole that turned me off to Bob Dylan.

Well, I gave Dylan a shot, and I will do the same for James Taylor. This will be a bit easier because I know that James Taylor recorded better albums than this one. I do think Ruhlmann was onto something with the “pessimism and desperation” of the time (and who wouldn’t be pessimistic with Nixon in the White House and Spiro Agnew a heartbeat away from the presidency?), but he neglected to mention the key role that women played in James Taylor’s rise to fame:

Female singer-songwriters could coexist with cock rockers and function as a subject for women and an object for men, but young men traditionally identified with the subject/ hero in popular culture and not the object of female desire that Taylor and other male singer-songwriters sometimes seemed to be. Certainly men listened to their music, however, as Time magazine reported “girls generally outnumber the boys by 2 to 1” at James Taylor concerts. The kind of man that Taylor represented was female-defined, the perfect male counterpart to the liberated woman. Alan Alda and the talk show host Phil Donahue represented this much-vaunted new man in popular culture, engaged as they were by feminism, eager to educate other men, and, most of all, as “sensitive and equal” as Joni Mitchell might want them to be. Taylor functioned as a “romantic hero” for some women; however, male critics blasted him for lacking “the brazen flash of a Jagger.” He “incurred the wrath of the hard rockers” because he was perceived as a sensitive man. In an infamous 1971 piece, the critic Lester Bangs fantasized about eviscerating Taylor with a broken Ripple bottle. Bangs thought Taylor was “a spoiled rich kid” who “sang like a wimp.” Robert Christgau conceded that while Taylor was “intelligent and liberal and good,” he seemed to be “leading a retreat” away from rock as well as masculinity. Taylor’s presentation of himself as an ordinary guy in sympathy with the new woman challenged the hedonistic rock fantasy that was pitched at men.

We’ll move on from the vitriol of those poor-baby, insecure male critics and clarify a few things. Most of his vocals on Sweet Baby James are gentle, in part because a gentle touch syncs with the mood of most of the songs, and in part due to sensible caution after having damaged his vocal cords and undergone throat surgery two years before (he was also forced to sing one song while suffering from a cold because they were running out of studio time). His “wounded hopelessness” was a manifestation of multiple hospitalizations for depression and heroin addiction before he turned twenty-one. Yes, James Taylor was born into a wealthy family that had the means to pay for his care in the finest institutions, but that hardly classifies James as “spoiled,” and I’m sure he didn’t feel spoiled or entitled when going through heroin withdrawal. His family did what any decent family would do: they gave their child the best care possible.

Look. I know it’s always fashionable to hate the rich, but rich people are human beings, too, and not all of them are narcissistic, unfeeling assholes like Elon Musk.

There is much to admire in James Taylor’s music. His phrasing and diction are excellent, making it easy for listeners to understand the lyrics and grasp a song’s meaning. Although he is usually lumped into the categories of “folk,” “soft rock,” or “folk rock,” his compositions are frequently loaded with jazz, classical and country influences. You can hear those influences in the unusually complex chord patterns made possible by his non-standard guitar approach. His first instrument was the cello (though he also tinkered with his sister’s piano), and when he started getting into folk music, he brought that bass clef orientation with him. “My style was a finger-picking style that was meant to be like a piano, as if my thumb were my left hand, and my first, second, and third fingers were my right hand.” (Timothy White. Long Ago and Far Away)  If you’re interested, Acoustic Guitar posted a deep dive into Taylor’s guitar stylings that I highly recommend, but for those not interested, here’s a summary: “In Taylor’s music, the guitar provides much more than accompaniment. His singular approach to the instrument—picking style, chord choices, bass lines, melodies, embellishments—creates a landscape that’s fundamental to the songs. Even after a 50-year reign as one of our defining singer-songwriters, the source of standard repertoire played by countless acoustic guitarists, Taylor still stands out as a highly unusual player—with idiosyncratic technique and a sense of harmony far apart from the standards of folk or rock guitar.”

*****

The road to Sweet Baby James was filled with ruts and bumps. From the New York Times: “After spending several years in New York, where, he said, ‘I learned a lot about music and too much about drugs,’ Mr. Taylor went to England. Through Danny Kortchmar, who had become a professional rock guitarist, he met Peter Asher, who was working for the Beatles’ Apple Records. Mr. Asher signed him to a contract and produced his first album, James Taylor. It was a critical success but a commercial flop. When Apple dissolved, Mr. Asher relocated to Los Angeles and began managing and producing Mr. Taylor, who obtained a new recording contract with Warner Bros.”

Allow me to fill in some of the blanks. While in New York, James formed a band with Kortchmar called the Flying Machine. They released one single and poof! Part of the reason his maiden album flopped is that he had renewed his heroin addiction in London and was unable to tour because he wound up in rehab. Before Asher and Taylor moved to La-La-Land, James played a six-night stand at the Troubadour, then performed to an appreciative audience at the Newport Folk Festival on the day Neil Armstrong made his one small step. James then headed to the family spread on Martha’s Vineyard and broke both hands and both feet in a motorcycle accident, rendering him unable to play guitar for several months.

Well! That’s enough bad karma to last a lifetime, but there’s some good karma in that story. “Taylor said of Asher, who later became his manager, ‘I knew from the first time that we met that he was the right person to steer my career. He had this determination in his eye that I had never seen in anybody before.'” (Halperin, Ian. Fire and Rain: The James Taylor Story) Asher transferred some of that determination to his colleague, as James continued to write songs for the new album while recovering from the accident.

Off the smack (for now) and filled with resolve, James Taylor would complete the album that made him a household name, and follow it up with several artistically and commercially successful recordings during the next fifty-plus years.

And he’s sold out. Fuck!

All songs written by James Taylor except where noted:

“Sweet Baby James”: I wasn’t surprised to learn that many mothers of the time sang their babies to sleep with this lullaby, because my mother was one of them. Of course, she had to make some changes to the lyrics, so she skipped the cowboy and Berkshires verses, and eliminated the repetition of the word “baby” in the chorus to make my name fit with the four-note pattern, so “rock-a-bye sweet baby James” became “rock-a-bye sweet Arielle.” Needless to say, I have no memories of her performances, but it’s possible that her singing planted an engram deep in my brain because when I first recognized the song, it felt like I’d heard it before and it made me very happy. Since I was neither fluent in English nor French when in diapers, and maman sang it a capella, that hypothetical implant must have come from the melody—and a lovely, soothing melody it is.

While it’s natural for listeners to give the melody priority, the composition and arrangement are exceptionally well designed and executed. James opens the song with what appears to be the well-worn intro of G, F#, Em, A, A7 that unsurprisingly leads to the root chord of D, but he makes things more interesting with a pattern of G*/ G/F#/ Em7*/ A7sus4/Asus2/A7. The eight-line verses are more like four verse lines and a bridge due to a subtle change in chording where James makes full use of complementary major and minor chords to balance wistfulness with joy and seventh chords to gently heighten the build to the chorus. 

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range (D-A-G-F#m)
His horse and his cattle are his only companions (Bm-G-D-F#m)
He works in the saddle and sleeps in the canyons(Bm-G-D-F#m)
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change (G-D-A-Em7-Asus2-A7)
And as the moon rises he sits by his fire (G-A7sus4-D)
Thinking about women and glasses of beer (Bm-G-D-A)
And closing his eyes as the dogies retire (G-D-A-Em7-Asus2-A7)
He sings out a song which is soft but it’s clear (Bm- G-D)
As if maybe someone could hear (E7sus4-E7-A7sus4 Asus2-A7)

James relieves the musical tension of those repeated seventh chords by opening the chorus on the root chord of D major, a very satisfying moment indeed.

So goodnight, you moonlight ladies
Rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won’t you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James

Songfacts noted that the chorus also reflects memories of James’ childhood, when he and his future singer-songwriter siblings used to sing themselves to sleep because “James couldn’t stand it when his mother sang, because she only sang opera. And because James’ mother was a lyric soprano, she never sang lullabies.” The arrangement is suitably minimalist but hardly barren. Red Rhodes’ steel guitar captures the lonesome cowboy feel, and the decision to have Carole King take the lead role in driving the rhythm on the piano was positively brilliant.

The Songfacts take on the song also features two very different opinions of the song from James and his brother Livingston:

• James: Speaking with Rolling Stone in 2015, Taylor said this was his best song. “It starts as a lullaby, then the second half of the song – ‘the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston’ – talks about what music means to me. It gets pretty spiritual by the end.”
• Livingston: “James is a good writer. James is not a great pop writer. Both James and I, particularly early in our careers, because of the lack of input and the lack of structure around us, tended to write with initial kernels that were great but without terribly much follow-through. So, for example, ‘Sweet Baby James’ has an unbelievable first verse and chorus – it’s as good as it gets in terms of character development, in terms of setting the stage. But after that, no bridge, no terrific development in the second verse. It lacks balance. As contrasted with James’ first #1 song ‘You’ve Got A Friend,’ written by Carole King. That is an exceptionally crafted song, as are most of Carole’s songs. They’re balanced beginning to end.”

I noticed that James focused more on the music and Livingston more on the lyrics, so I agree with both assessments: the music is superb, but the lyrics needed greater cohesion. Suddenly beaming us from the dusty plains to western Massachusetts without an explanation doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. That said, his vocals are pleasant enough to make up for lyrical deficiencies.

“Lo and Behold”: I started my research on this song by googling the phrase “James Taylor’s views on Jesus and Christianity,” and goddamn, there’s a lot of bullshit crapola on the internet! Some fans have posted quotes that allegedly came out of James Taylor’s mouth during a concert after Voldemort allegedly attacked him as an “insult to Jesus.” I knew Taylor was a lifelong Democrat, but when I read the quotes, I smelled a rat. Guess what? The subject of the attack and the guy who responded to the evil one was progressive Christian and Texas state representative James Talarico! One perceptive lady responded to the post with the words “AI Fake,” bless her heart.

Talarico’s response was pretty cool, but I promised my readers a break from politics, so you’ll have to look it up yourselves.

Though James seems to dip his toe into politics on the line, “You just can’t kill for Jesus,” the song is essentially a validation of spirituality in any form. From songlyrics.com: “The song’s tone shifts as it moves into the night, where dreams offer a contrast to the bleak reality. The well on the hill emerges as a central symbol, both sacred and unshakable. The chorus returns to the well on the hill, a place where faith is rooted and unkillable. The line ‘You just can’t kill for Jesus’ hints at a deeper spiritual conviction, a refusal to be broken by external forces. The speaker rejects the idea of building ‘heathen temples,’ emphasizing a belief in a divine presence already established. This is not a call to action but a quiet assertion of faith in a world that feels distant and indifferent.”

The song opens with a folksy feel highlighted by some marvelous picking by the guitarist. After a quick three-chord pattern of F-Em-Asus4, the music shifts to spiritual-influenced blues in sync with the biblical references in the lyrics. I’ll cover his relationship to Christianity in greater depth as we move through the songs, but as James explained in an in-depth interview with Paul Zollo of Blue Railroad, “So it’s basically agnostic spiritualism that I engage in repeatedly.” His basic orientation is that none of us knows why we’re here, and it’s best to keep an open mind on a spiritual journey. “So you’re constantly trying to give that individuated consciousness the slip, and trust falling back into the context out of which we emerge. Which is, basically, to my mind, the skin of life that’s on the planet earth. The thing that has, for some reason, produced us. And maybe the reason we’re here is to burn fossil fuels, I don’t know. But we’re here for some unknown reason.” (Zollo, ibid)

Well, I sure as hell hope that we’re not here to burn gasoline, but I have to endorse his perspective. Every answer to the question “Why are we here?” is pure speculation, and we’ll never get it right until we collectively define our purpose all by ourselves.

I love a deep thinker like James Taylor.

“Sunny Skies”: The lyrics to this song are largely ironic, with many instances of opposing meanings . . . beginning in the opening verse:

Sunny Skies sleeps in the morning
He doesn’t know when to rise
He closes his weary eyes upon the day
Look at him yawning
Throwing his morning hours away
He knows how to ease down slowly
Everything is fine in the end
And you will be pleased to know
Sunny Skies hasn’t a friend

Sunny Skies weeps in the evening
It doesn’t much matter why
I guess he just has to cry from time to time
Everyone’s leaving
Sunny Skies has to stay behind . . .

In a performance on BBC In Concert (video below), James tells the audience that the title came from a Pakistani R&B musician who took the name “Sunny Skies.” That may be true, but you should not assume that the song his about him. According to Timothy White, James’ first encounter with serious depression came while attending prep school at the Milton Academy, where he had a hard time fitting into the preppie environment. His decline into darkness took place in what was to be his final year, and at times he would sleep twenty hours a day. There’s no doubt in my mind that Sunny Skies is James himself or his alter ego, masking his identity through a third-person narrative.

The music is also ironic with its pleasant melody and jazz-tinged shuffle. In the closing passages, James shifts to first-person and confirms his identity as Sunny Skies by reflecting on a difficult time in his life.

Looking at the snow and trees that grow outside my window
Thinking ’bout the things that pass me by
Wondering if where I’ve been is worth the things I’ve been through
Ending with a friend named Sunny Skies

I’m not sure if the irony was intended to educate listeners on the struggles of the mentally ill, shine the light on the fear and loathing the average person heaps on those outcasts suffering from a psychological disorder, or simply a way for James to deal with his experience. The challenge with a song full of irony is that people might not get it, and in this case, choose to cling to the soft music to avoid facing the truth.

“Steamroller Blues”: I suppose that James might have subtitled this song as “A Blues Parody,” to make his intent crystal clear, but I think that comparing his Johnson to a cement mixer, a demolition derby, and a napalm bomb (ouch!) was sufficient for even the dumbest people to get the joke.

Then again . . . maybe not. Elvis covered the song on the live album Aloha from Hawaii Via Satellite, and it sure sounds like he turned the parody into a straight-up R&B number designed to remind the ladies in the crowd of his sexual prowess. I have to admit that his version is pretty hot (and I’m not referring to the napalm).

According to Songfacts, “Taylor came up with the song after seeing lots of white college kids playing blues songs by the likes of Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf – he noticed a disconnect there.” Translation: the kids didn’t know dick about the legacy of the blues and likely chose to cover blues numbers in part because of the sexual angle, and mostly because they only knew three chords.

This is the song James recorded while suffering from a head cold, and features one of the least minimalist arrangements on the album due to the questionable decision to employ a horn section (the college kids wouldn’t have had a horn section, so why bother?). The album version isn’t bad, but I found a James-only BBC In Concert performance that eliminates the overkill and allows him to properly prepare the audience for the satire.

“Country Road”: I’ll open the discussion with a review of “Country Road” by Ronnie D. Lankford Jr of AllMusic: “‘Country Road’ was one of a handful of ballads on James Taylor’s Sweet Baby James that perfectly marked the transition between the ’60s and the ’70s. Released in 1970, ‘Country Road’ invited the world-weary ’60s traveler to turn the world’s problems over to Jesus and take a walk down a deserted road. While Taylor and his fellow singer/songwriters would be called confessional poets, there’s nothing overly personal about ‘Country Road.'”

I would characterize that review as sloppy and poorly researched. The song is very personal, and his reference to Jesus was not intended to convert people to Christianity. Multiple sources confirm the inspiration for the song as noted by Songfacts: “The song was inspired by a real road: Somerset Street in Belmont, Massachusetts, which ran near McLean Hospital, where Taylor had spent time being treated for depression in 1965. It was a quiet, wooded stretch that seemed tailor-made (Taylor-made?) for contemplation.” That angle is further validated by his admission that “I’m all in pieces” in the song’s second verse. We already know about his agnosticism and that his references to Jesus are a way of conveying a spiritual experience not specifically connected to any religion. Songfacts also notes that Taylor pointed out that “There’s a spiritual undercurrent here. I have a very strong spiritual need, and getting into nature is going to church for me.” I will complete my nitpicking by pointing out that Lankford should have referred to the era as the “early 70s,” as rock would come roaring back in the heart of the 70s.

My favorite part of the song is that second verse, where James expresses genuine excitement at the thought of talking a solitary walk down a country road:

But I can hear a heavenly band full of angels
And they’re coming to set me free
I don’t know nothing ’bout the why or when
But I can tell that it’s bound to be
Because I could feel it, child, yeah
On a country road

While most Americans of the time viewed riding down the highway as the ultimate expression of freedom, James offered an alternative that may not have seemed particularly exciting, but communing with nature heals the soul, and its effect lasts a whole lot longer than a thrill ride.

“Oh, Susannah” (Foster): Stephen Foster’s blackface minstrel crap celebrating a section of the country that enslaved human beings has never moved me in the least, but what saves this piece from earning the epithet of “album filler” is  JT’s guitar work. He transforms Foster’s boring three-chord pattern into a rich display of arpeggiated minor and major sevenths, slash chords, and enhanced chords, occasionally breaking away from 4/4 time with syncopated passages.

“Fire and Rain”: One of James Taylor’s greatest contributions to humanity is his openness and honesty regarding his mental health challenges. In a 1971 piece in the New York Times, he characterized his struggle with mental illness thusly: “It’s an inseparable part of my personality that I have these feelings.” He also had no qualms about explaining the events depicted in “Fire and Rain.” “In a 1972 Rolling Stone interview, Taylor explained: ‘The first verse is about my reactions to the death of a friend. The second verse is about my arrival in this country with a monkey on my back, and there Jesus is an expression of my desperation in trying to get through the time when my body was aching, and the time was at hand when I had to do it. And the third verse of that song refers to my recuperation in Austin Riggs, which lasted about five months.” (Songfacts)

Neither the artist nor his label thought the song had potential as a single. “Taylor was surprised that such a deeply personal song would appeal to listeners, as he didn’t think people were interested in his life.” (Songfacts, ibid) After “Sweet Baby James” failed to chart and two cover versions of “Fire and Rain” by Johnny Rivers and R.B Greaves (the “Take a Letter Maria” guy) made it into the Billboard Top 100, Warner finally released JT’s version, which easily outperformed the covers and peaked at #3. According to the Financial Times, the song has been covered by at eighty different artists over the years, but there’s no way in hell that anyone could cover this song as effectively as the man who lived it.

As James proceeds through the song, you can feel his grief in the first verse, his pain and desperation in the second verse, and the mix of hope for the future and regret for past actions in the closing verse. Roberta Flack brought tears to my eyes with her beautiful voice; “Fire and Rain” makes me cry because James Taylor makes me feel his pain and loss through his words and the sincerity of his vocals. What James missed in thinking that listeners wouldn’t be interested is the song is that everyone of us has experienced tough times, and songs like “Fire and Rain” that express emotional honesty serve as healing experiences that help us achieve catharsis. As Clare Martin of Paste Magazine explained, “Anyone who’s felt at the end of their tether can find solace here, knowing they’re not the only ones who have struggled to go on . . . Whatever you are going through, the song is there to accompany you, assure you that you can survive life’s fire and rain.” The universal relevance of “Fire and Rain” is undeniable.

Have you ever lost a close friend or loved one and experienced the disorientation and denial brought on by grief?

Just yesterday mornin’, they let me know you were gone
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song
I just can’t remember who to send it to

Have you ever suffered from a disease or physical condition that brings on fear, desperation, and unbearable pain?

Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus?
You’ve got to help me make a stand
You’ve just got to see me through another day
My body’s aching and my time is at hand
And I won’t make it any other way

Have you ever experienced failure?

Been walking my mind to an easy time
My back turned towards the sun
Lord knows, when the cold wind blows
It’ll turn your head around
Well, there’s hours of time on the telephone line
To talk about things to come
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground

Have you ever experienced a time when everything seems to be going your way, then suddenly find your friends have abandoned you?

Oh, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend

From a musical perspective, “Fire and Rain” is simply marvelous. The chords are not as complex as some of the other songs on the album because, as reported on Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me Substack, “James admitted that he stole the chord sequence for ‘Fire and Rain’ from something his brother Alex had written.” In this case, the simplified chords strengthen the focus on the all-important narrative by avoiding unnecessary ornamentation. The stripped-down arrangement of the opening verse featuring James on guitar, Carole on piano, and Bobby West bowing the double bass grabs the listener’s attention from the get-go with its sheer starkness and melancholy. Russ Kunkel enters the scene in the transition to the chorus, using brushes for the vocals and cavernous thumping sounds in the transitional bars. When Kunkel ramps up the intensity of those booms during the fade, I hear a sense of determination that fits perfectly with JT’s feeling that the cycle is about to change for the better: “There’s just a few things coming my way this time around.”

Though I disagree with the assessment that Sweet Baby James is one of the greatest albums of all time, “Fire and Rain” would be on my list of the greatest songs ever written. Few songs have the lasting emotional power of this masterpiece.

“Blossom”: After the emotional heaviness of “Fire and Rain,” this ode to his muse is a welcome, calming piece of music. The vocal harmonies come as a nice surprise, but I’d like to know why James handled both lead and harmony when Carole King was in the studio. In later years, Carole did provide the harmonies in live performances, and the song was all the better for it.

“Anywhere Like Heaven”: The best part of this song is clearly Red Rhodes’ gorgeous steel guitar. As for the rest of the track, well . . . some of the lyrics are rather awkward (“When I see that simple sadness, that upon your features lies”), we’ve already done the country-city contrast in “Country Road,” the melody is weak, and James clearly strains to hit the higher notes.

“Oh, Baby, Don’t You Loose Your Lip on Me”: This sounds like a warm-up accidentally captured on tape and shoved onto the album just for the hell of it.

“Suite for 20 G”: From Songfacts: This song was an amalgamation of several bits of songs/melodies/lyrics/themes that Taylor had lying around as kernels for three future songs that hadn’t yet come together. He and his producer, Peter Asher, had a deadline to meet for completing the Sweet Baby James album, and they needed one more song to do it. Asher had him string these loose themes together to make a single “Suite” and get the $20,000 (20G) they were promised by Warner Bros. Records for completing the album, which is how it got the title . . . The lyrics are pretty basic stuff, with a vague story about finding comfort in music.”

Peter Asher thought the finished product was “pretty cool.” I think it’s crapola. I also think the “suite” that ends Abbey Road is crapola, so there. A proper suite is marked by a unifying concept, and those two “suites” are just random shit put together to complete an album. All you have to do is compare them to CSN’s “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” or Billy Joel’s “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” and you’ll appreciate the difference between a suite and a mishmash.

*****

Many artists suffer from depression and get hooked on drugs, and James Taylor continued to struggle with those demons long after Sweet Baby James. The main reason I want to see him live and in person is because of his resilience. Every time he hit the canvas, he managed to get back up and continue his quest to live a meaningful life in the world of music. I also intend to explore more of his discography to back up my claim that his best work came later in his career.

I’ll close with a message to the Baby Boomers in the audience. It is the gospel truth that you were fortunate enough to live in an era that produced the most creative and timeless music in popular music history. There is no need to engage in hyperbole to convince people of that fact. Let the music speak for itself, and if you run into people who don’t get it, don’t waste your time trying to argue with them. File them away in the folder marked “morons” and forget about it.