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Pif Magazine
ISSN: 1094-2726
Published by:
Pif, LLC
PMB 248
4820 Yelm Hwy SE
Suite B
Lacey, WA 98503-4903
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Los Angeles, Spring, 1971: Page 1, 2, 3, 4
James Taylor – Mud Slide Slim And The Blue Horizon
James Taylor has so many great albums that this one often gets overlooked. Mud Slide Slim is not J.T.'s best, but it would be almost anyone else's best. Of our three 1971 albums, Mud Slide Slim is the least transparent, the least focussed thematically, and the most produced. Unlike James's later radio-friendly ballad projects (Gorilla, In The Pocket, JT), Mud Slide Slim is still very bluesy ("Machine Gun Kelley," "Hey Mister, That's Me Up On the Jukebox") and folksy ("Long Ago and Far Away," "You Can Close Your Eyes"). On "Riding on a Railroad," James even ventures a bit of country bluegrass, complete with banjo. And the title track is a middle-of-the-road funk number with Carole King driving the backbeat piano. Russ Kunkel's rock-steady drumming thankfully provides a consistent backbone to these otherwise eclectic styles. |
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Mud Slide Slim is so much a part of my blood, I can't objectively evaluate it. These songs surely must be required listening for everyone west of the Congo. James Taylor's early songs are to me what I imagine "Tam O'Shanter" and "Comin' Through the Rye" must be to Irish folks.
Unlike Carole and Joni, James fronts a crafted persona. He's the balladeer, the storyteller. But I've so come to know and love his persona, I don't really care how much of it is actually him.
There are some quirky gems on Mud Slide Slim that I miss from JT's current live sets – the stream of consciousness interlude, "Soldiers;" and the rambler anthem, "Highway Song." James's "You've Got A Friend," with its mellow calypso rhythm, is much better than Carole's own version. "Long Ago and Far Away" is James at his timeless lullaby best. The album's best song, however, is the enchanting ballad, "You Can Close Your Eyes." I remember singing it to my eight-month-old Caroline deep in the mountains of western North Carolina, along the upper banks of Slickrock Creek, with the moon on the rise behind us and the fireflies dancing on the water:
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Well the sun is surely sinking down |
And now I'm crying again. I'm full of love for my daughter and my wife, and I'm thankful for this life God has given me. And I'm telling you more than you probably want to hear. But I don't care. I love music because it puts us in touch with important and profound things, things we sometimes don't want to face, but things that we're forced to face when they invade our souls through music.
I'm thankful that my dad started me off right, there at our home in Lafayette, with the tubes of the Marantz amplifier dutifully glowing blue into the night; and so I pass the music on. Sometimes life is sad, but I'm going home for good soon enough, and it's gonna be alright. Until then, L.A. in the spring of 1971 ain't bad.
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Curt Cloninger finally finished the CD he's been working on since April. It's more like Nick Drake and less like Flying Saucer Attack, which is probably better for all involved.
Visit Curt at his dream library, Lab404.