James Taylor’s Greatest Hits

Friday is fun because it’s about music. So there’s links. And playlists. Today, a simple ode to a simply wonderful compilation album.

It has a boring white cover. But actually, it’s just understated. The man’s name, the titles of the songs, and no announcement that these are his best-known hits, that’s recognisable by their inclusion. It was released in 1976 (as was I). And it was one of the first CDs we owned in our house. We weren’t early adopters to the CD format, my dad had invested in records, and didn’t see the point in rushing to get CDs. Then, in the early 1990s, he was hooked. And he found it was actually easier to get hold of the songs he had loved in his youth on compact disc. He gave away his records, and him and mum bought CDs.

Cat Stevens, The Animals, Santana, Deep Purple, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Ella Fitzgerald, Fleetwood Mac, Billie Holiday, Prince, Cream, The Doors, Robert Cray, Paul Simon, and Carole King. Look, it wasn’t a bad way to grow up at all. And there were - eventually - hundreds more. And then thousands more on top of that lot when I fully got the bug and ran wild with a staff-discount, a student loan, and an endless curiosity in an era just ahead of the internet’s shortcuts.

I wasn’t immediately sold on James Taylor’s Greatest Hits, but I liked that it meant something to my dad. Mum used to give him a bit of grief, tell him it was boring. She tolerated the Cat Stevens, but she was more into Paul Simon, because there was always more than just a hook, there was a groove…

The Cat Stevens Greatest Hits album was always the soundtrack to the Napier-Taupo road. And after that, somewhere between Tokoroa and Hamilton, we’d get to James Taylor’s Greatest Hits, maybe some Fleetwood Mac or Bob Dylan first. And though dad’s choices started off decently, it was often just the soundtrack to our sleep, and the old man probably loved it that he was left alone with one of his favourites…

But something sure sunk in. And when I was first away from home, and buying CDs and records, I found a second-hand copy of the Taylor Hits comp on vinyl. And thought, without hesitation, I’ll buy that for a dollar! Which was especially convenient, given that was the exact asking price.

It had a huge jump in it, meaning it would get stuck on a line (“just yesterday morning” could very quickly become three or four yesterday mornings in a row, and had to be given a nudge to move on). Sometimes it would just refuse to play altogether. But I kept it in my collection. Mostly because it reminded me of my dad. And the music he loved. Not just James Taylor. Somehow this dirtied-up white record sleeve symbolised all sorts of music from that era in one go.

But then I bought a CD copy too, and a few other Taylor records - the brilliant double live album which was a revelation in showing me how great he is as a guitar player; those early 70s albums that contained the hits from the compilation were worth it just for the other players involved. And of course there were a few deep cuts on each too.

It wasn’t that long until I was absolutely a fan, not just someone with a James Taylor record in my collection to remind me of my Da.

But I kept running into criticism that he was white and boring. That his music was lame and that he was soft. It didn’t make much sense to me. I’d read about Taylor battling addiction and depression, wrestling with demons throughout his life, and channeling so much of that into his songs. I could hear enormous musical prowess. From him, and the players he worked with - and to attract the very best you might actually have to be punch at or above that weight, right? And anyway, if nothing else, I too was white and boring. Wasn’t it just perfect however you looked at it and regardless of whether you listened to it?

Songs like Country Road and Fire and Rain and Walking Man. Songs like Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight and Carolina In My Mind and Something In The Way She Moves.

Then I got to the point where it didn’t matter. It wasn’t exactly like I was defending an artist that nobody liked. James Taylor has truckloads of fans; is adored by many, still plays shows around the globe and packs houses and delivers the goods. But you get to the right age for the music, and it just makes more sense. So you don’t need to have that arsenal of back-story; you don’t need to be righteously telling people that he was suicidal and had a messed up life, with an emotionally unavailable father, and that he worked hard on his fingerpicking so that he could be a one man band.

You can just like what you like.

And a valid reason, always, for loving music - for holding on to it always - is because it reminds you of other family, or friends, and their tastes.

There’s a second volume of James Taylor’s hits, it has a similarly boring/safe cover, and it’s got the catchy title, Greatest Hits Volume 2. I used to own it on CD, and it’s got some gems - particularly, for me, Your Smiling Face and Up On The Roof, but there are others…One of the things I really admire about James Taylor is his ability to write great songs but to also recognise when someone else has written a great tune. He knocks out a decent cover, and there’s a deft skill required there, to source and recognise the right music, and then to work in complete service to it.

Some other time I might tell you all about how much I really love Sweet Baby James, or Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon, or One Man Dog - or how I also really dig a lot of what’s on Walking Man, and Gorilla, and in a weaker moment still In The Pocket and JT, but really, the simple fact is my favourite James Taylor album is Greatest Hits. The only one I continue to own. It contains all the reasons I love the man’s music - including an important link back to my childhood.

I was delighted to hear Taylor is coming to New Zealand for two shows next year. I saw him a few years back. And it was wonderful. I’m almost certain I’ll go again.

I wait for the great James Taylor autobiography. To my knowledge, no such thing exists just yet. And maybe it never will. But oh, what if! You see, he did make a 90-minute audiobook exclusive which details his rise to fame. It’s absolutely amazing. Like a radio-play, with Taylor creating music to speak across, telling the story of how he met The Beatles, and got a record contract and worked hard to rise up out of the fog of his depression.

It was in 1999 that I first wrote about James Taylor. A short wee poem - about the Greatest Hits album. But of course, you know how it works with poetry. It wasn’t really about that. It was about something else altogether. I never quite had the depression or addiction that plagued JT. But we all have our shit. Mine was likely an inertia, if anything. Anyway, I’ll leave you with that today. Because I just wanted to give a shout to Taylor and his Greatest Hits.An album I’ve lived with for most of my life:

Me, and a warped vinyl

- James Taylor -

glass of water to sooth the heartburn

nothing – of course – to soothe the heartache

“just yesterday morning

just yesterday morning

just yesterday morning…”

I give the needle a poke skull back a heap of water

let some trickle down chest to wet the stained singlet

keep the beer baby company

and me

There’s no real point in me making you a James Taylor playlist. Sure, I have a few deep cuts that are favourites. But really, I’m calling that Greatest Hits album the very best sampler, or definitive statement on the guy and his recorded legacy.

But if all this Taylor talk was not right for you. Maybe it’s the wrong Taylor to be talking about in music these days? Well, anyways, stick around for the regular, weekly playlist. Vol. 147.

So, any fans of James Taylor and his Greatest Hits? Anyone tempted to go see him for the first time, or for a return concert? And if not, why not? Nah, just kidding. Not everything has to be for everyone.

Happy Friday. Happy weekend. Happy whatever-day-it-is-when-and-if-this-finds-you. Thanks for reading. And for listening.