James Taylor : WE STILL LOVE YOU
Confession time: For years, "You Can Close Your Eyes" has consistently held a top spot on my Spotify Wrapped. It's the song I crank up when the world feels overwhelming, guaranteed to wash away anxieties and usher in a wave of bittersweet serenity – a perfect encapsulation of both melancholy and contentment. The Charlie Brown to an otherwise loud world.
This visit to the Ruoff Music Center in Noblesville marked my first time back since the pre-pandemic days. It was a chance to witness an inspiration to many in person, and document the experience. While James Taylor wasn't necessarily my all-time favorite growing up, his music resonates more and more with me as I age, especially as the wear and tear on my back continues to keep me up at night. Taylor’s soul encourages revisiting his old vinyl and cassettes almost on a weekly basis.
The Noblesville crowd was refreshingly diverse – a wide range of teens, adults, and couples, all eagerly awaiting the soulful tapestry James Taylor would weave. Before his entrance, a video montage showcased Taylor's career, prompting a wave of nostalgia as I reflected on both my past and future.
From the opening notes of "Something in the Way She Moves," a collective sigh of relief washed over the venue, a shared surrender to the nostalgia and comfort Taylor's music evokes. His voice, etched with the wisdom of time, retained its youthful essence. Each song, a well-worn favorite, felt fresh, imbued with the raw vulnerability that has always been a hallmark of Taylor's music. As I mentioned I have been to this venue hundreds of times, but the sound mix on this night was perfect (enter Homelander “It Was Perfect” soundbite). The energy ebbed and flowed throughout the set. Upbeat tracks like "Copperline" had the audience clapping along, while "Sweet Baby James" hushed the room to a reverent silence. Taylor, a seasoned performer, owned the stage with a quiet confidence. His between-song banter was laced with self-deprecating humor and genuine warmth, creating a sense of intimacy that transcended the venue.
Every song felt like a poignant hit on a larger masterpiece. Perhaps it was the collective sing-along to "Fire and Rain," a moment of shared vulnerability that transcended generations. Or maybe it was the tender rendition of "You've Got a Friend," a timeless ode to companionship that resonated deeply.
Tonight James Taylor was not just a musician; but a storyteller. And tonight, in Noblesville, Indiana, he spun a tale of love, loss, and the enduring human spirit. It was a story etched in the melody of his voice, the strum of his guitar, and the rapt attention of the audience. As the final notes of my favorite "You Can Close Your Eyes" faded, a hush fell over the crowd, a collective sigh of contentment. Hoosiers left the venue not just entertained, but reminded of the beauty and fragility of life, a feeling that will stay with them long after the last note has faded.
