It Gets Us All
You probably know this already, but second only to Novak Djokovic, James Taylor is my guy. I have loved this man for forty years. That’s not a phase. That’s a lifestyle. That’s longevity.
I discovered him as a wee tween when I heard him sing “Every Day,” which I did not realize at the time was a remake because I was busy imprinting on his voice like a baby duck. Since then, I have read his biography, downloaded every album, seen him live multiple times and aggressively educated my nieces about him before they reached kindergarten. (They knew him before they knew multiplication.) I own the Life magazine with him on the cover, and yes, it lives on my coffee table like a treasure. One of my good friends in college even prank-called Martha’s Vineyard on Spring Break, asked for “Sally Taylor,” and GOT HER ON THE PHONE. We breached the perimeter.
And the day I discovered a video of him, early in his career, in his 20’s, singing “You Can Close Your Eyes,” it was a revelation. I had that video on replay for days.
These days, I stalk James on Instagram, where he is now an elderly gentleman whose hobbies include piddling around his property, cutting wood for his stove and walking his two pugs. That’s it. That’s the content, and I love it like it’s the latest hit on Netflix.
So yes. I’m a fan. His golden meadowlark voice has carried me through many a cold, lonely night like an emotional space heater.
Which is why it hurts me to say this.
I watched this video from his recent performance of “You Can Close Your Eyes” (the same one I sang to Daisy the day she died, and yes, emotional damage was already locked and loaded).
He sang it with his late-in-life son Henry, which is just lovely. And yet…
That voice. It has aged.
It is now wavery and raspy, like James Taylor has been moonlighting as a nursing home resident. Gone is the crystal-clear meadowlark. Present is the “I’ve lived, I’ve loved, I’ve seen things” voice.
And I know. I KNOW. He’s earned every rasp. He’s a legend. He’s an American treasure. I will defend him in any parking lot, at any hour.
But watching your musical hero age is unsettling. Crushing. Heartbreaking.
And somehow…still beautiful.
