Music |
Carole King & James Taylor: Live At The Troubadour
By
Published: Feb 24, 2019
Category:
Rock
Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne were driving in Honolulu when one of them said, “James Taylor, Carly Simon, a remake of ‘A Star Is Born.'” Thus was born the 3rd version of the movie, starring Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. As a film, it failed; as a piece of merchandising, it was a major success. And as a he-was-up-now-she-is story, it was a wrong-headed short-lived prophesy. Give Carly Simon credit for everything she achieved. Give her extra points for achieving all that in a male-dominated business. And then look at James Taylor’s output, and step back — he wrote and recorded songs that just won’t age.
I thought of the Didion-Dunnes and Carly-and-James because of the latest version of “A Star Is Born.” Much has been made of it, and, again, give Bradley Cooper and Lasga Gaga credit for everything they’ve achieved. But what has been wrong in every prior version of the film is wrong with this: for every winner, there has to be a loser. It just ain’t so. And because this version doesn’t break the formula, it’s just possible that, when the dust settles, we’ll look back on this film as a Bradley Cooper selfie.
If I were pairing James Taylor with a female singer, I’d look for a pairing of equals — and she would be Carole King. And that happened, at the Troubadour. “Blossom” isn’t my favorite James Taylor song. Really, I barely remember it. But it’s the first song on the DVD and CD package of “Carole King & James Taylor: Live at the Troubadour” and just hearing that mellow guitar and moonshine voice pretty much unhinged me — my face flushed, my eyes glistened, and there I was, face-planted into my past.
I’m not the only one of a certain age who will watch this intimate concert and have this reaction. Their music is mostly quiet, but it plays loud in memory; it’s what we were listening to in that shithole of a decade, the ‘70s. It’s all those memories: Roe v. Wade. Kent State. Ms. Magazine. The endless war in Vietnam.
And, set against that, the soothing and consoling music of two crooners. In terms of records sold, they’re a rounding error for Michael Jackson. But back then, for white kids astonished to find themselves struggling to make decent lives in Nixon’s America, they were huge.
They were, as it turns out, huge for one another in the ‘70s. They first performed together at the Troubadour, a little LA club, in November of 1970. A year later, when they returned to the Troubadour, he had “Fire and Rain” and she had “Tapestry” and they had mutual, powerful magic. And then, in 2007, they returned to the Troubadour one more time to make a CD and DVD from six shows recorded over three nights.
These 15 songs, spread over 75 minutes, are impeccable — the technology of recording, video and editing has advanced so dramatically that the early videos seem raw and awkward. Not that these performances are slick and cynical. What you get to see and hear is the intimacy of this relationship. [To buy the DVD and CD of “Carole King and James Taylor: Live at the Troubadour” and get the MP3 download free from Amazon, click here. To buy the MP3 download of the CD from Amazon, click here. To read more about Carole King and James Taylor in “Girls Like Us,” click here. ]
Carole King hearts James Taylor. It’s all over her face as she harmonizes or just mouths the words to his songs. But then, she’s hugely emotional as a signature. Her songs are hits in large part because she’s brilliant at distilling deep feelings into simple statements — “You’ve Got a Friend” is the gold standard — and excitable as a musician. When she gets going, she’s off the piano bench and playing standing up.
The news flash on James Taylor, who has always seemed too accomplished to break a sweat, is how intense he is as a guitarist. King looks at Taylor, Taylor looks down at his guitar — that unbalances the film until you get used to it, and then you have a fresh appreciation for him as a musician.
It’s the voices and harmonies that mattered when we first heard King and Taylor. The years have been kind to them. King’s voice was always a little weathered, and that, for her, was a strength — now, after failed marriages and whatever else life has slung at her, that roughness seems like the proof of experience. Taylor, a great singer in his 20s, is now a master; if you can hear a flaw, you’ve got better ears than I do.
The pacing of the show and the positioning of the songs are where this package achieves liftoff. Listening and watching, I felt a kind of peace that had eluded me all day. If you’re young, this may sound stupid beyond belief, but if you’ve got miles and bruises, this is music that connects you to old dreams and affirms every hope you ever had for your generation, your country and yourself. These are, in short, lullabies for adults.
Just as I was thinking that, King and Taylor returned on stage for an encore. And, without the band, this is what they sang:
Close your eyes;
you can close your eyes, it’s all right.
I don’t know no love songs,
and I can’t sing the blues any more.
But I can sing this song,
and you can sing this song
when I’m gone.
It won’t be long before another day.
We’re gonna have a good time.
And no one’s gonna take that time away.
You can stay as long as you like.
If only.
