“Hi kids, it’s me — Jesus. Hey, look what I'm wearing on my wrist! — It’s a wristwatch with a five-color picture of me on the dial and hands attached to a crimson heart!” Well, of course. Noah’s on tv selling an ark full of polyethelene animals (Buy now — before it’s too late!), Jesus is on the radio and Boone’s Farm is pushing a new wine for hippies with the slogan Strawberry Hill Forever. You say that nothing is real? Well here’s another clue for you all: James Taylor is.

It’s second nature to be cynical when watching the movements of the music business so the Taylor hype scenario seems like common sense: It’s early 1970, the old superstars are breaking up and dying off, so naturally a new one had to be hustled out and fast. And the way to sell a superstar is either as part of a new direction see, or if there is no i direction you make one. Now the PR boys know the way to do that is by reversing the going styles — if the skirts are short you make ’em long, get it? Groups are in — we need a single; loud music — ergo, soft; listen, we want somebody cooled out and, uh, understated. Like James Taylor — you know, that tall skinny guy with eyes like bottomless wells, with the thin voice and the cosmic suspenders.