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James Taylor – James Taylor (1968, Apple Records): A Whisper in the Storm


Alright, so here comes James Taylor, fresh-faced, doe-eyed, crooning from the hallowed halls of Apple Records, that gilded kingdom of Beatle blessing. And what does he give us? A gentle, honeyed sigh in a hurricane of distortion and rebellion. It’s 1968! Hendrix is setting guitars on fire, the MC5 are revving up, and here’s James Taylor, plucking his acoustic strings like he’s got all the time in the world.


And maybe that’s the point. Maybe in a year where everything felt like it was hurtling towards some fiery crash, Taylor’s debut is the slow-motion moment before impact. But slow motion can be mesmerizing, and James Taylor is nothing if not hypnotic in its own hushed way.


The album opens with “Don’t Talk Now,” and instantly, Taylor’s voice floats in like a summer breeze—a little too polite for my taste, but undeniably smooth, like bourbon with no burn. It’s the sound of someone who’s seen darkness but doesn’t feel like screaming about it. Instead, he murmurs his pain through delicately picked guitar and melodies that seem tailor-made for rainy afternoons and coffee cups left half-full.


Then there’s “Something in the Way She Moves,” a song so understated the Beatles themselves took notice—George Harrison practically filched the title for Abbey Road. And who could blame him? Taylor has a way of making heartache sound like a lullaby, which is both his greatest gift and his Achilles’ heel. This whole album is so damn pleasant, so impeccably arranged, that you almost forget this guy was recovering from heroin addiction and mental breakdowns while writing it.


But dig deeper, past the warm production (thanks to Peter Asher) and the pastoral ease, and you’ll find the cracks. “Rainy Day Man” hints at something darker, a bluesy stomp that suggests Taylor might have been listening to the same records as Jagger, but chose to whisper instead of growl. And “Knocking ‘Round the Zoo” is the real shock—Taylor lets loose (as much as he ever will), rolling out a wild, jangling number about psychiatric hospitals with just enough madness in the mix to remind you that, yes, there’s a real storm behind those sleepy eyes.


Is James Taylor a masterpiece? No. It’s a curious debut, an album that sounds like it’s trying to comfort you even as it’s quietly bleeding out. It’s music for people who prefer their pain wrapped in velvet. And yet, there’s something about Taylor’s presence—gentle, wounded, but weirdly unshakable—that keeps you listening.


In a world where rock was trying to shatter eardrums and overthrow governments, James Taylor sat down with his guitar and whispered his way into history. And somehow, impossibly, it worked.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07574F77Q/?tag=doubledrecord-20