I have a no Carole King rule. I lunge to switch the radio to another station or skip the track, whether in a car, boat, plane, or my own home. But I’m letting myself listen to this one because the internet radio is showing the Tapestry album cover—and this track doesn’t whine and depress like some of the others do. This one is upbeat, but the subject is still a huge bummer.
No, it’s still the cover that draws me. I used to linger over it when I would review all of the albums in the cabinet or that were spinning on the turntable around ages 7, 8, 9 or 10–whenever I could handle the stereo and its components undisturbed. I must have been shown how to put the records on without damaging them, as I’d done to basically all of my Disney records on my own plastic in-its-own-carrying-case turntable. Slide it down the spindle, gently lift the arm, apply some—not a lot!—pressure to grasp the handle on the head shell, and whatever you do, DON’T DROP IT ON THE RECORD.
I remember studying album covers more than those tutorials. And Tapestry’s struck me A woman, alone, and...barefoot? I couldn’t understand it. Women on the other record covers in the cabinet, like Marilyn McCoo on a 5th Dimension record, wore fancy outfits, coordinated with the background or others, and were posed carefully. Here was a woman in her house, sitting in the window with a cat, and who can’t be bothered to put on shoes.
What kind of crystal ball was this record that I wholly do not like?
