You’ve Got a Friend Still, but With a Twist

Normally it’s annoying when fans start yelling song titles during a concert, but you felt like joining in a few times during the first half of James Taylor’s sold-out performance Saturday at the Hollywood Bowl.

I’m probably not the only one who wanted the lanky singer-songwriter to cut to the chase and get to the landmark material that made him an invaluable pop figure in the early ‘70s--songs such as “Fire and Rain” and “Carolina in My Mind.”

This set up the classic pop dilemma.

You can sympathize with Taylor for refusing to build his show around the songs that first brought him stardom three decades ago, but in a time of national anxiety, you also wanted to feel the cleansing beauty of his best work rather than the far less distinguished material that has characterized his albums since then.

For millions, Taylor has been the Mayberry of pop music, someone whose most affecting songs serve as a safe haven in a time of stress--a place where nothing can go so far wrong that Sheriff Andy can’t handle it.

That warm, reassuring approach doesn’t normally place someone at the creative center of pop-rock, because the most compelling artists tend to base their work on edgier and more challenging elements.

But Taylor’s messages of friendship and hope carried such conviction and grace in the early ‘70s that he became an important link in the evolution of the singer-songwriter movement.

In his intimate, soft, folk-rock tunes, Taylor brought a needed sense of comfort and healing to a pop-rock world that had gone in a matter of months from the new-era idealism of Woodstock to the disillusionment and violence of Altamont.

In fact, “friend” became a central word in Taylor’s pop arsenal, cemented there by his 1971 hit version of Carole King’s equally soothing “You’ve Got a Friend.”

On Saturday, the good-natured and understated Taylor seemed to realize that many in the audience still find him a worthy shoulder to lean on.

The guy’s so gracious that he doesn’t just introduce the seven members of his band and his four backup singers--he walks across the stage to shake hands with or embrace them.

“I don’t know what to say at a time like this,” he said, referring to the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11.

He said that he just wanted to play some music and hoped everyone could have at least a wee bit of fun at the show.

When he began picking out some soulful notes on his acoustic guitar, it was a reminder of the early days when Taylor’s music seemed so pure that it would be at home in a cathedral.

But those moments were fleeting Saturday.

In the opening hour, Taylor showcased what he has done musically since his early burst of stardom.

That meant some tunes from various albums--including 1997’s biting, politically minded “Line ‘em Up”--and a pair of songs that will probably be on his next album.

It also meant updates of some of his less substantial hits, including “Mexico” and his interpretations of pop-R&B; oldies such as “Up on the Roof.”

All this was vaguely pleasant, but it lacked the urgency and insight of his moving music.

It was only on “Shower the People,” a 1976 hit, that Taylor gave a hint of the uplifting sentiments that were once at the heart of his personal vision.

You knew that he would eventually get around to the vintage stuff, and it felt good indeed when he opened the second hour with “Carolina in My Mind,” a song from his 1968 debut album that was an ode, in a sense, to Taylor’s own Mayberry:

In my mind I’m gone to Carolina

Can’t you see the sunshine

Can’t you just feel the moonshine.

And ain’t it just like a friend of mine .

When Taylor got to “Fire and Rain” and “You’ve Got a Friend” near the end of the set, he toned the band down and returned to the gentler, intimate sound of the records. To add to the warmth, Russ Kunkel, the drummer who played on the early records, was with Taylor on Saturday.

But the songs were simply part of the show--the same way they have been for years. Taylor could also have highlighted “Fire and Rain” and “You’ve Got a Friend” by closing with them or by surrounding them with more of the ultra-sensitive tunes from his signature “Sweet Baby James” and “Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon” albums.

Instead, he followed the numbers with his version of the lighter 1965 Marvin Gaye hit “How Sweet It Is (to Be Loved by You”).

In the end, it was probably unreasonable to expect Taylor, who once served such a valuable role in pop, to turn away from his own agenda to fill our needs again by stepping back to his old pop cathedral.

It may even have struck him as manipulative after all these years to try to turn the songs back into the benedictions they once were.

Or maybe there was a message in his understated approach--a useful reminder that life indeed goes on.

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James Taylor plays Friday at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, 8808 Irvine Center Drive, Irvine, 8 p.m. $25 to $65. (949) 855-8096.