“I love you!” someone screamed from the crowd Saturday night after James Taylor finished a rousing version of “Mexico.”
“I love you too,” Taylor responded matter-of-factly. “I can’t explain it, but I do. It’s true.”
It was one of countless passing exchanges between Taylor and the audience at Hard Rock Live at Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Hollywood last night that made the evening feel intimate despite the room’s size. And probably the best summation of Taylor himself: warm, funny, sincere, and seemingly incapable of taking himself too seriously.
I first became really aware of James Taylor from his role in “Funny People,” of all places. Sure, I kind of knew who he was, or at least some of his best-known songs. But seeing him pop up as himself in Judd Apatow’s 2009 film endeared him to me, led to records acquired, and a deeper dive into his catalog. Something about seeing that glimpse of a guy willing to poke fun at the version of himself that existed out in the world resonated with me.
Saturday was my second time seeing him live, after catching him in 2014, and at 78 years old, Taylor may have to strain a little to reach a note here or there, but the twinkle in his eyes shines as brightly as ever, and he still comes out sounding great.
His crowd work, for lack of a better word, goes beyond charming.
Before “Line ’Em Up,” Taylor recounted the inspiration behind the song, including the image of Richard Nixon lining up White House staff to see him off as he departed for the final time after resigning the presidency. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Taylor quipped, “but I’m actually beginning to miss Richard Nixon.”
Introducing “Millworker,” which he wrote for the musical “Working,” Taylor was as cavalier about his failures and missteps as he was about his accomplishments. The musical, he explained with impeccable timing, didn’t exactly work, adding that it lasted only two days on Broadway.
Age itself provided some of his most reliable material. Taylor recalled his doctor warning him that as he got older, he might find himself having trouble “moving his stool” around on stage while touring. Naturally, he returned to the joke several times throughout the night while capably relocating said stool whenever he moved from sitting to standing.
There were the occasional shouts from the audience in between songs that I’ve come to associate with shows down here, but Taylor took it all in stride. In one instance, a guy yelled something mostly unintelligible, to which he replied without missing a beat, “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
In response to one of many shouted song requests, Taylor held up the oversized set list at his feet. “We’re going to play that one. See, I wrote it down.”
Backed by his aptly named All-Star Band, including four backup singers, Taylor moved through a career-spanning set that included “Country Road,” “Carolina in My Mind,” “Fire and Rain,” “Your Smiling Face,” and Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend.”
When introducing the singers midway through the night, Taylor saved a little extra praise for one in particular: his son Henry. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” Taylor asked the crowd, before adding with proud-dad deadpan, “He was a rescue.”
The musicians had plenty of room to shine throughout the show, and Taylor laid the praise on liberally. After background vocalist Dorian Holley delivered a particularly rousing solo to close out “Shower the People,” Taylor tugged at his collar in an exaggerated Johnny Carson-esque gesture.
“Dorian Holley,” he said, before conceding that Holley was sounding good. Maybe too good. The crowd laughed uproariously, in on the joke with him.
Later in the show, Taylor introduced a song as the musical version of a landscape painting, quickly adding that it was “probably not the song you’re thinking of, but we will play that one.” The song was “Copperline,” but he was referring, of course, to “Carolina in My Mind,” which eventually arrived alongside a string of songs most casual fans were undoubtedly waiting for.
Before “Never Die Young,” Taylor offered the title as good advice, then acknowledged the obvious: “It’s too late for me.”
Maybe technically true, but watching Taylor perform Saturday night, “old” felt mostly like another setup waiting for a punchline. His voice carries the weight of the years it’s traveled alongside him, but the guitar playing remains unmistakable, the band impeccable, and the songs have lost little of their ability to make thousands of people feel like they’re being sung directly to.
The world is a brighter, more loving place for having James Taylor in it, still serenading audiences after all these years. And maybe more importantly, he seems to still love us all too.
