"October Road," by James Taylor

I bought this album in early September of 2002, shortly after its release and just one year after large-scale terrorism single-handedly imploded the United States with not only the magnitude of its evil destruction, but also by the debacle and needless disfigurement that would become a series of decade-long wars in the Middle East. And like everybody else in the country seemed to be in those days, I was in heavy introspection and reinvention mode. Thank God for James Taylor. I was ready for a diversion and for something hopeful, and after spending my 20’s in the wonderful town where I went to college I decided to take a job in a different location. And while a new work opportunity made me hopeful for what might lie ahead, the unfamiliar territory made me reflective and sentimental. This tender album served as my travel companion as I said “goodbye” to DeKalb, Illinois and made my new home in Lake Forest, Illinois.

Lyrically wistful and nostalgic, on October Road, Taylor sings about high school crushes, first kisses, football games, and the sights, sounds and smells of the months between the autumnal equinox to the winter solstice. In fact, songs on the album reference the entire second half of the calendar year: July through December. “On The 4th Of July,” “September Grass,” “October Road,” “Caroline I See You,” and even the seemingly out-of-place, but somehow-still-works cover of the holiday classic, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” The album suggests the second half of the year as a time to wonder and rejoice, versus the hectic, hustle-and-bustle of the first two seasons. October Road reminds me of one of the best periods of my own life: the first year of being married to my partner. The album was the soundtrack to so many Chicago-land road trips together as Kristina and I navigated a new geographic region, weekend errands and groceries, carefree apartment living, and generally getting better acquainted. I treasure those days.

While there are numerous stand-out tracks on this album (i.e., the aforementioned, “September Grass” and the uber-mellow, grilled cheese and hot chocolate, one-two punch of “Caroline I See You” and “Baby Buffalo”), the songs on October Road are also of a piece, conjuring autumn and winter imagery: colored leaves on the ground, family and good friends, crisp, November air, and the smell of bonfires, hayrides, and pumpkin pie. Taylor’s lyrics on this album are road-worn and familiar, cozy and comforting. In fact, October Road reads like the third and fourth season travelogue of a man who has finally achieved a certain level of satisfaction and contentment with his life. And if my James Taylor history is correct, this serenity has been hard-won.

Most folks over a certain age know about James Taylor’s “soft rocking, hard living” early days, as one of the principle auteurs of the singer/songwriter genre (along with Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Carly Simon, Bob Dylan, etc.), he created classic 1970’s hits, like “Fire and Rain,” “Handy Man,” “Your Smiling Face,” “Shower The People,” and his only number one, the 1971 Carole King-penned, “You’ve Got A Friend.” James Taylor has endured mental illness, rock stardom, drug abuse, and the fleeting trends of pop music, which tend to favor the tastes of 13-18 year-olds. Following suit, Taylor started to lose traction on the pop singles charts in the early 1980’s, as MTV, with it’s neon lights, hairspray, and synthesizers, effectively killed the radio star. The 80’s and 90’s passed quietly for Taylor, who released a sublime album every five years or so to his faithful followers, toured to support his new songs, and otherwise grew comfortable in his role as elder statesman of rock music. And we fans keep coming back for more, most recently on the sold out “Troubadours” tour with the equally legendary, Carole King. David Crosby has said that the debut album of a singer-songwriter represents 10 years of the musician’s work, but the second album, often written between gigs while promoting the first release, that’s where you can tell if an artist is any good. October Road is Taylor’s 15^th album. Still good. Very good, indeed. 

"A Christmas Album," by Barbra Streisand

Barbra Streisand is a polarizing figure, artistically and politically. Everybody seems to have something to say about the renowned singer: Quincy Jones called her a “national treasure” in 1994, George W. Bush begrudgingly honored the living legend in 2008 with a Kennedy Center Honor, in what may have been his most awkward Presidential moment ever. Some even worship her: Richard Simmons, in kind, made a quarter life-sized doll replica of her in the 1990’s, and in 2010, the genre-blending “Duck Sauce,” further immortalized the sixty-something songstress in their techno hit, “Barbra Streisand.” But whatever the inspiration, Streisand stands as the only singer in the history of singers to score a number 1 album in five consecutive decades, including this one. Not too shabby. And in the first decade of that impressive feat, Streisand made the quintessential Christmas album, setting the template for holiday records for decades to come and selling millions of copies along the way.

Up to that point, in 1967, holiday records were fairly rote affairs: a collection of standards, respectfully treated, with a silly photo of the artist covered in fake snow, holding a gift or a holiday ornament, and/or wearing a Santa hat. With A Christmas Album, Streisand created a new holiday album prototype: building a foundation with a few secular songs (“Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” “The Christmas Song,” and “White Christmas”), adding a few sacred hymns (“Sleep In Heavenly Peace,” “Ave Maria,” and “The Lord’s Prayer”), and throwing-in a few left turns along the way (like the then-new song about her newborn son, “The Best Gift,” the meloncholified iteration of “My Favorite Things,” from the most cheerful movie about Nazi occupation ever made, “The Sound of Music,” or the silly, revved-up rendition of “Jingle Bells?” that opens the record and, no doubt, inspired the clownishly sublime version of the same song, decades later by Canadian rockers, The Barenaked Ladies).

A Christmas Album, in fact, was the only holiday album by a female artist, up to that point, to be the best-seller of the year, and it revolutionized the genre, even today, influencing artists like Shawn Colvin and Shelby Lynn, who took Streisand’s lead in invigorating the oft-lifeless, holiday album genre with fresh arrangements and unusual song selections. Even Susan Boyle, the “Oops, I’m selling a billion albums,” insta-TV celebrity, added a few surprising, innovative song selections to her 2010 holiday outing, which included covers of Crowded House’s exquisite, #2 hit from 1987, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” and Lou Reed’s equal parts depressing and beautiful, “Perfect Day,” from his 1972 album, Transformer.

Interestingly, Streisand indicates that she is hesitant to perform live these days, because of all the ballyhoo about her “perfect voice.” She feels too much pressure to live up to the hype. This album, recorded while the singer was enduring a seasonal cold, is a big part of the reason for said hype. A Christmas Album is, in a word, stunning, and a must-have for every holiday collection. On a personal note, Streisand’s first Christmas album provided the soundtrack for some of my best holiday memories, growing up: time with family and friends, decorating the Christmas tree, wrapping gifts, the tantalizing holiday smells from the kitchen, and of course, Christmas songs. Streisand’s Christmas album is a perennial favorite at my house during the holidays. Its old-fashioned loveliness is like a cherished friend on cold, December days, especially in years when I can’t make it back to the farm for Christmas.