I Don't Get It

Can’t say that I was ever a James Taylor fan -- not in his longish haired young hippy freak years or his gracefully balding older guy times. Nope, apart from a tune or two (whose names, tellingly, escape me now) I just didn’t/don’t groove to his beat,

Most, OK 100%, of my female freshman college class did though. Alright, to be fair, I only hung with music, art and English majors. Maybe the business majors and home ec. (or as we termed them -- MRS degree chasers) students were all about Lou Reed and Johnny Rotten -- huh? /snort/

In any case, my fellow girl type students sorts were wildly in love with “Sweet Baby James” to the point of cream colored muslin, trimmed in cotton lace, wedding dress fantasies. No lie.
I didn’t get it then, I don’t get it now. Granted, way back then, I was solidly into Bowie, Talking Heads and Dylan.

Though they were gods to me, I didn’t want to run off in my torn jeans and conveniently ragged, paint spattered red work shirts to walk down the aisle with any of them -- no, no, no. Those infatuations were all about the music -- seriously. Now then, Keith Richards, Roger Daltry and Franz Liszt (and YES I knew he was long dead, thank very much) -- oh baby, THEY were some serious fantasy inspiring dudes. No, I didn’t want to marry them -- just have my wicked way and all that. Yes, yes, yes, girls can have wicked ways and intentions too. No, honest and truly we can.

 Taylor seemed so...dunno...lame. soft, elevator music-ish. Like mashed potatoes without the jalapeños. Like whole wheat Wonder Bread with a schmear of cream cheese. Yes, I totally know that I’m committing huge crimes against something or other with these statements but...but...damn, I STILL don’t get the appeal!

Why does this come up now? I just found out yesterday that Mr. Taylor plays every 3rd Thursday, when he’s not on tour, at our neighborhood, 2 blocks up the street, pub. Louis. He’s buds with the owner apparently. Sheesh! The joint’s tiny -- the “stage” fits exactly one person (a ‘platform’ vs ‘stage’ and even that’s a stretch) -- the bar seats 15. Maybe. It’s only recently that anything other than Bud or Sam (Adams) was on tap, the crowd’s more like me (blue of collar and profane of tongue) than the Tanglewood or Newport Fest folk and god forbid you ask for a veggie burger at Louis.

So now, of course, I want to go there some Thursday. I wouldn’t hear him, duh (it’s that deaf thing, you know?) but it’d be fun to see this celeb plunking out the tunes at my corner bar. Awesome even.

Now, if only they could get Richard Thompson for Wednesday nights!