Shit From an Old Notebook: Open Letter to the Guy Playing James Taylor Covers at Peet’s Coffee

I’m sorry if my wife’s inappropriate comment and our sudden departure may have upset your delicate sensibilities, but what you are doing, sir, is an affront to nature. Just because you play a Taylor guitar does not mean—under any circumstances—that you need to run through the catalog of a similarly named “artist.”

If you were playing a Gibson would you have felt the need to play only Debbie Gibson songs? A Fender… Freddy Fender? Either one of those scenarios would have been easier to sit through. Might I suggest you trade for a Takamine?

We did appreciate the attempt to throw in the Beatles cover. Your fingerpicking on Blackbird was nice, but you can’t just not sing the word if you can’t hit the note. “Blackbird singing in the dead of _” The dead of what? Do you see how there is now a gaping hole in the narrative structure of the song? And by no means should a flagging set list be shored up by another James Taylor song.

You are very lucky that Mr. Taylor himself—either one—didn’t walk in, take that guitar away from you, and smack you with it.

Good day, sir.