
Last August James Taylor was quoted in Rolling Stone thusly: "I hope my next album will be simpler. It has to be, because the music is simple and a big production job just buries all my intentions." Well, this first post-Apple album dovetails nicely with that anticipation, even down to the inclusion of Stephen Foster's "Oh, Susannah," buck-wheat cakes in her mouth and all.
Peter Asher (formerly at Apple with Taylor) produced this album, as well as Taylor's first, and, one can hear, let Taylor have free rein this time. Echoes of the Band, the Byrds, country Dylan and folksified Dion abound, yet somehow Taylor pulls through it all with a very listenable record that is all his own. The gentle, intelligent manipulation of piano, steel guitar, fiddle and a few brass arrangements alone deserve a close listening to by any erstwhile producers.
And it is hard to fault Taylor's lyrics. "Sweet Baby James," with its "cowboys waiting for summer/his pastures to change" and "Fire and Rain" with its "Sweet dreams and fire machines in pieces on the ground" are just a few of the images that Taylor develops. Throughout, his vocal stance is low-key and perfectly matched to the country-styled guitar work. No acute solos or overstressed melodies appear as musicians and vocalist together manage to mandala their way through Taylor's persistent lonely prairie/lovely Heaven visions that, at times, work their way up to the intensity of a haiku or the complexity of a parable.
Taylor only shifts from this stance a couple of times. "Oh Baby, Don't You Loose Your Lip On Me" is less than two minutes long; bluesy yet random, it sounds like studio hijinks used to fill out an album. But the other exception, "Steam Roller," is a different story. Here Taylor is earthy and lowdown with definitely crude electric guitar behind him as he moans "I'm gonna inject your soul with some sweet rock and roll and shoot you full of rhythm and blues." Then a miasmic, brass riff to make sure things stay tough, followed by a particularly timely and potent a couple of verses: "I'm a napalm bomb for you baby/stone guaranteed to blow your mind/and if I can't have your love for my own sweet child/there won't be nothing left behind." A double-entendre tour-de-force pulled off effortlessly.
This is a hard album to argue with; it does a good job of providing that his first effort was no fluke. This one gets off the ground just as nicely, as Taylor seems to have found the ideal musical vehicle to say what he has to say.
- Gary Von Tersch, Rolling Stone, 4/30/70.
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- Billboard, 1970.
I have solved the Taylor Perplex, which seems to revolve around whether James was a verier godsend when he was gracing Macdougal Street with the Flying Machine, discovering the Beatles on Apple, or now. My answer: none of the above. Which leaves an even more perplexing question: which god is supposed to have sent him? Not the one in Rock and Roll Heaven, that's for sure. B-
- Robert Christgau, Christgau's Record Guide, 1981.
With perhaps the exception of the beautiful, gently orchestrated hit "Fire and Rain," this album does not necessarily contain the most memorable Taylor tracks. It is, however, the most satisfying overall. What's more it shines through on CD.
The simple integrity of these recordings (and the introspective folksy rock music for that matter) makes up for a lot. Although there is plenty of tape hiss, which obtrusively fades up and down between tracks, there is also real punch and crystal clarity. The brass and hi-hat punctuation in "Steamroller," which one might expect to sound bright and fierce, is eaten up and spat out. Drums are a little "cardboardy" but Taylor's voice and acoustic guitar, Carole King's piano too, image with real precision and surprising dynamics improving greatly on what can today sound a mediocre LP.
How can you resist the work of a man who writes in all seriousness "I am a cement mixer for you baby"?
- David Prakel, Rock 'n' Roll on Compact Disc, 1987.
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 world view, especially on such songs as "Fire And Rain," reflects the pessimism and desperation of the '60s hangover that was the early '70s. Either way, this is impressive stuff. * * * * *
- William Ruhlmann, The All-Music Guide to Rock, 1995.
If you're looking for James Taylor's best single album, you have to go all the way back to Sweet Baby James, which contains a number of songs that became his fans' favorites, including the title track, "Fire and Rain," "Country Road" and "Steamroller Blues" -- Taylor's own personal "Freebird." * * * *
- Daniel Durchholz, Musichound Rock: The Essential Album Guide, 1996.
With its heart-wrenching, confessional style this folk-rock classic not only made JT a household name and practically a patron saint, it set the standard for sensitive 70s singer-songwriters. A great chronicler of his generation with an easy voice that's far older than his age, he brings acoustic ballads like "Fire and Rain" and "Country Roads" into the arms of the R&R crowd -- yeah, it's overplayed, but it's sweet through and through. * * * * *
- Zagat Survey Music Guide - 1,000 Top Albums of All Time, 2003.
Taylor's second album landed him on the cover of Time magazine and secured his place as the patriarch of the 1970s singer-songwriter scene. But he went through a private hell on his way to success; the album's Top Five hit "Fire and Rain" was inspired by Taylor's stay in a psychiatric institution in the mid-1960s (he had committed himself) and the suicide of a fellow patient. Taylor set a new standard for confession in pop lyrics on "Fire and Rain." But it is the quiet strength in his voice, framed by the skeletal grace of Peter Asher's production, that still makes this album a model of folk-pop healing music.
Sweet Baby James was chosen as the 103rd greatest album of all time by the editors of Rolling Stone magazine in Dec. 2003.
- Rolling Stone, 12/11/03.
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