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Ask James Taylor about his songs, his Broadway-bound stage musical, “Fire and Rain,” and some of the triumphs and challenges in his very well-documented life, and he’ll happily respond. But ask this legendary troubadour to estimate the number of concerts he has performed since the year after his self-titled debut album was released in 1968 and he readily admits to being both stumped and intrigued.
“I don’t know. How many years is that? Sixty-six? Fifty-six?” the San Diego-bound Taylor asked in response to this apparently not-so-simple math question.
“So, take an average of 76 shows a year, times 56 years,” he continued. “What would that look like? Let me grab some No. 2 pencils. I don’t want to use Sharpies!”
Clearly engaged, Taylor began to make some recalculations after determining a more accurate average number for his concerts might come out closer to 39.6 annually.
The websites concertarchives.com and setlist.fm each contain year-by-year listings of his concerts. Their career totals for Taylor come out to, respectively, 2,176 and 2,617. Informed of this, he questioned the accuracy of these tallies.
“That’s interesting, but it’s less than I would have thought,” he said, speaking from the Boston suburb of Brookline. “And I wonder if those include my overseas concert tours in Europe, the Pacific region, South America and Canada. I would have thought my average would have been closer to 50 a year, but there were some years where we did more and some less. And we didn’t do any during the COVID shutdown.”
No matter the actual number, Taylor now 77, is grateful his career stretches across so many decades.
His 2025 North American tour includes performances May 10 and 11 at San Diego’s bayside Rady Shell. The 43-date concert trek will provide a welcome opportunity for fans of all ages to savor such classic Taylor songs as “Sweet Baby James,” “Fire and Rain,” “Carolina in My Mind,” “Mexico,” “Only a Dream in Rio,” “Country Road” and “Your Smiling Face.”
“The way it feels to me — working like this and for so long — I’m surprised it still feels the same,” he said. “This is something which is a rare thing in America: I have the same job today that I had when I was 15!
“And the fact I’ve stuck with it is, well, when something works, you tend to stick with it. And performing is the realest part of a kind of a show-biz career, or a commercial artistic career. The fact that you put it in front of an audience — they come back to hear you again and again — and you know immediately how they’re receiving it and what their response is.”
Taylor’s budding career gained initial traction in 1968, after he became one of the first artists signed to The Beatles’ new record label, Apple. Just 19 at the time, he couldn’t believe his good fortune.
“It was like a fantasy, although it would have been more so if it had been my first time recording,” Taylor recounted in a 1985 San Diego Union interview. “Before then, I couldn’t get any acceptance in London. I’d made a demo tape, but literally no one was interested. I got a copy of it to Peter Asher, who really liked it, and he played it for Paul (McCartney), who said it was good. I went from having no prospects to having a dream come true.”
His career took off in early 1970, with “Sweet Baby James.” His second album (and first for Warner Bros. Records), it featured three songs — “Fire and Rain,” “Country Road” and the title track — that remain fan favorites.
Taylor was the sole cover subject for Time magazine’s March 1, 1971, issue, which bore his name and the headline: “The New Rock: Bittersweet and Low.” He performed 56 concerts that year, nearly triple the number he did in 1969.
Yet, to hear Taylor tell it now, his lifelong dedication to touring reflects both his passion for performing and some bad business decisions at the onset of his career.
“Back in the days when people used to be able to live on record royalties and publishing money, I sort of blew that,” he recalled. “I made a couple of (mistakes) myself, but my advisors and manager made decisions that basically took that (recording and publishing) income out of the picture …
“I didn’t make any income, to speak of, off my big hits. And so, it’s always been about touring for me. And that’s where the business has now arrived. Generally, touring is where performing artists make money these days.”
Richard Nixon was president when Taylor rose to fame, all those years ago.
Nixon’s White House tenure ended in 1974, when he resigned in disgrace in the wake of the Watergate scandal. Taylor documented that historic event in his moody 1997 ballad, “Line ‘Em Up.” It begins: Oh, I remember Richard Nixon back in ’74 / And the final scene at the White House door / And the staff lined up just to say goodbye / Tiny tear in his shifty little eye.
Unthinkable as it may have once seemed, does Taylor now miss Nixon in any way?
“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “I miss anyone who actually believes in the Constitution, and in our government as it was set up in the Constitution.”
While he has performed on behalf of Democratic presidential candidates over the decades, Taylor has generally shied away from making political statements, on or off stage. But he made a notable exception on Feb. 21 with his heartfelt social media post, “Thoughts On Ukraine.”
He began the post by acknowledging how rare it is for him to publicly make such a personal statement, writing: “I always hesitate to bring my political beliefs into this space. I don’t think my listeners would expect that from me and some of you will find it disappointing: not what you were looking for… But the recent reversal of our support for the Ukrainian resistance to Putin’s invasion motivates me to cross that line.”
Taylor then asks: “Were we wrong about Zelensky, the hero of Ukraine? Were we wrong to feel the brotherhood of freedom in their struggle to resist the unprovoked attack upon their young nation? When they fought the bully Putin to a standstill with righteous resistance. When they stood up to the tyrant and stoically paid the price in patriots’ blood, were we not thrilled at their courage…”
He concludes by pondering: “Is this what has become of the cradle of liberty, and the home of the brave? That we slide the hidden dagger in the back of those who were our champions? While our allies in the defeat of Hitler and Stalin witness our betrayal in disbelief…”
Could “Thoughts On Ukraine” inspire Taylor to write a song about the same topic?
“Well, I introduced that piece on my social media by sort of apologizing for getting political,” he replied. “Generally speaking, I don’t think that’s what people come to see me for (in concert). I think that’s probably a distraction.
“As far as my live performances are concerned… I don’t want to burden or distract my audience from what’s essentially, if I can presume to call it art, an artistic experience with this kind of (political statement) stuff. So, I keep politics out of my performances and, generally speaking, out of my public offerings… But one of the main things that concerned me, was Trump’s relationship with Putin and (Hungarian Prime Minister) Viktor Orban, and our relationship with NATO and our mission as world leaders, and of our commitment to representative democracy and human rights.
“That’s one of the main things that motivated me (to write and share ‘Thoughts On Ukraine’) and make that political stand. I’ve been dreading what happened with Ukraine under this administration… It came as a surprise to me how sort of blunt it was, and how sort of clumsy the handling of it has been.
“The relationship between Trump and Putin has always been something that concerned me. I’m surprised it doesn’t concern more people, but it’s front and center now. And one of my major concerns has been, and continues to be: What do we stand for in the world? What are we? What are we? Are we abandoning our our mission of promoting democracy in in the world?
“As my friend (film and TV director) Dave Mirkin says: ‘These are the fun questions.’ ”
By turns reflective and playful, Taylor spoke to the Union-Tribune for more than an hour. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Q: You’re not a road dog who tours all year, every year. But you clearly love performing and the craft of performing, live, in real time, with your aptly named All-Star Band.
A: We don’t have a script. We may have a set list, but we’re free to do whatever we need to be present. That’s the main thing about the way I and my band perform. We want to be as present and available in the moment, right there in real time, as possible. If that wasn’t the case, people could just watch a recorded show on television. We want those moments when it’s definitely happening right now, there’s no question about it.
Honestly, I don’t know why live music is still so compelling to audiences. Why? Why do they still show up and come to live events? Maybe it’s that we’re being isolated more and more in this age, and people need to have that experience of coming together and having a parallel emotional experience. Whatever it is, I’m very grateful for it. As I’ve said before, I’m sort of surprised it still means as much to me as it does.
I remember a conversation with Paul Simon once, where he said: “I think I’ve outgrown my desire to get the approval of the audience or to have their feedback.” And that started me thinking that, maybe, my attachment to it is kind of arrested development. Why would I still care? I mean, I have a very full life and the true gift of happy and healthy children, a wife that I love who loves and supports me, and great relationships with my siblings and a small group of friends. Why do I still need an audience to give me back that energy?
Q: Why do you?
A: I think it’s like church a little bit. It’s like what happens when people share. Music is an emotional language that speaks directly to you. You don’t make a decision about whether or not music is good. It either hits you or it doesn’t. You don’t parse it and then decide to go forward with your approval. Music is empirically real. An octave is a physical reality. It’s twice the frequency of the octave below it and half that above it. A major seventh is a major seventh and a fifth is a fifth. It’s not something that needs a consensus reality. It’s an empirical reality, and it’s one of the few things you can say that about.
Music allows you to escape the prison of the individuated human consciousness. It really does have a spiritual component. And spiritual is celebratory as well. It’s not just going to a mountain peak in Tibet and sitting in a cave, chanting ‘Ohm.’ Music is about abandonment, too. The whole point is to fall back into something supportive, something real, something that proves God’s love. It’s the benevolence of the universe … Music is all these things, and I don’t think I’m experiencing something the audience doesn’t experience, too. I think we’re just sharing that thing.
(Chuckling) Those are my unnecessarily protracted thoughts about music and live performance. I remember after 9/11, we were on the road and had a Sept. 14 show in Seattle. All the (commercial) flights were canceled, so we chartered a bus and plane. People came together for that concert, and it really proved something to me about what live performance can be. It was profound, and I think that continues to happen. I’m not making more claims for concerts than they need. Because it is party time, it is celebration, it is light. But it’s also more than that.
Q: Except for singer Dorian Holley, I believe every member of your current All-Star band was also a member of your Band of Legends back in 2008. When you’ve worked with musicians that long, is it easier or harder to surprise each other on stage, musically speaking? I don’t mean in a jazz improv sense, but in terms of maybe adding little nuances that make one concert a bit different from another?
A: Definitely, although you start to see it as a longer arc — the way we treat a song. Everybody in the band understands what the harmonic structure of each tune is, what the chords are, the melody and dynamic of the song. You trust each individual player to come up with their own part. And mature musicians don’t have to get in their licks every second. They are listening to the whole piece and figuring out what not to play, as well as what to play and when, and when to sit out. It’s a sort of group consciousness, no question. It is a deeply shared experience, and that type of evolution is very compelling …
There is also something we call “the bus factor,” and that’s an important thing. What is it like to spend five hours a day on a (tour) bus with somebody? If there’s something about that that drives you crazy, it’s probably going to drive everyone nuts, eventually.
Q: When you change the name from Band of Legends to the All-Star Band, did anyone in your group feel like they’d been demoted? “Hey, I was a legend and now I’m just an all star?
A: (chuckling) No, it never came up, because it definitely is an all-star band. And I think the audience is aware of it now, too. In Japan and Europe, more so than here, audiences are very focused on the band and on individual players. When we play in Amsterdam, there are as many people there to hear (drummer) Steve Gadd and (bassist) Jimmy Johnson as to hear me.
Q: You are working on a musical. Is it a jukebox musical like “Jersey Boys,” which got its start at the La Jolla Playhouse? And does it preclude you making a new album?
A: Those kind of jukebox musicals are great — that kind of dramatized story of the person who makes the music, especially if there’s a good story connected with it. And often, there is. But this particular one we’re working on is not connected to my life at all. I mean, except that, of course, it’s using very autobiographical, personal songs that I’ve written. But there’s a story that the music supports, and is woven into the music and into the story. It’s a fascinating process, but it doesn’t occupy me so constantly that I don’t have time to write new songs. I am due for another album. And I want very much to put together another batch of songs.
Q: Is there a timeframe for either the album or the musical?
A: No, although I would think that both are going to happen within the next three to five years.
Q: Duke Ellington was a very prolific composer. He was asked once what inspired him to write. He smiled, and said: “Give me a deadline.” Do deadlines help you?
A: They definitely do. It helps to have a deadline. I’m working with our playwright (Tracy Letts) and director (David Cromer), and we do have some deadlines coming up. There are steps in the process, and it’s fascinating. My folks loved musical theater, and in the 1950s we listened to a lot of those golden-age-of-musicals classics by Rodgers & Hammerstein, the Gershwins, Cole Porter, Frank Loesser ….
Q: Kinky Friedman died last year. When I interviewed him in 2018, I asked if he had a bucket list, and his response was: “When you’re 73, well, I don’t have a bucket list at all. I have a f–k- it list. That’s the truth. There’s nothing I want to do that I haven’t done, although I’ve got a few ideas and I’ve achieved some of those goals in my life…” Do you have either a bucket list, or, pardon me, a f–k it list? And if so, what is at the top of that list?
Appreciation: Kinky Friedman, dead at 79. ‘You have to be miserable to write a good song’ he told us.
A: Oh, man. I just feel as though I have a very full life that engages me totally. I can remember a time when I was bored, and that was great. But really, I’m up and running. Often, we kind of substitute this sort of mechanical (way of life). In the case of substance abuse and chemical solutions to our lives, the risk and reward thing gets left undone. The idea of goals, the very idea of happiness, even, is sort of foreign.
I feel as though I’m very reactive, and that I’m not really generating my own way forward. I count on other people for that kind of motivation. And I do think that it’s a recovering-addicts problem; not a problem, but situation.
Q: When we first spoke in 1985 you told me: “I’m aware of the super sensitive image I have that started with “Fire and Rain,” but that’s fine. I think that image of me comes from having burst onto the scene with “Fire and Rain,” which became a sort of anthem of adolescent introspection. Humor is not a cohesive motivation for me to write songs ….” So, I’m wondering, today, what is a cohesive motivation for you to write songs?
A: It’s the same as it ever was. I look back and I can see themes I seem to gravitate toward, a family dynamic, a kind of way of inventing my own father, constructing in my mind who my father is to me. That just keeps coming back, for some reason, not so much inventing as assembling my interior idea of who my father was, and what our relationship was. That’s one theme; heartbreak, longing and traveling are others. The nature of addiction is a big theme I come back to, and trying to escape the human condition.
Then, there are songs that just feel like spirituals. And occasionally, I’ll write something angry, like (1991’s) “Slap Leather” or (1974’s) “Let It All Fall Down.” Often, I’ll get this musical idea that’ll suggest a melody and a cadence, and then the words sort of fall into that context and into that framework of what the music is. It does seem to be a very unconscious process, something I can’t direct very well. I mean, I wrote a song about Afghanistan (2015’s “Far Afghanistan”) that was very premeditated. And “Angels of Fenway” is about that time in 2004 when we (the Boston Red Sox) won the World Series, after 86 years. So, there are songs that I cerebrally and premeditatedly construct to tell a story. But usually, it’s just my emotional landscape manifesting musically.
Q: A left-field question. If the underground rock band The Fugs — which your friend Danny Kortchmar played guitar in — had invited you to join them in 1966, would you have?
A: No, but I would have joined them on stage to do a guest spot for a few evenings. That would have been interesting! There are still a few Fugs’ songs that get rotation in our family, especially “Saran Wrap.”
Q: My next interview this morning is with Kiss co-founder Gene Simmons. I’m tempted to ask him if he has a favorite James Taylor song, and to ask you if you have a favorite Kiss song.
A: (laughs) Please make one up for me! I’ll try to think of one, although it won’t be as good as “Saran Wrap!”
When: 7 p.m. May 10 & 11
Where: The Rady Shell at Jacobs Park, 222 Marina Park Way, San Diego
Tickets: sold out (May 10), $79.50-$99.50 (May 11)
Online: theshell.org
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