Earth Activist James Taylor Feels Strongy About Environmental Issues And Uses His Music To Help The Cause

He’s jabbing a finger, waving an arm, raising his voice slightly, even uttering the rare swear word. Can this possibly be James Taylor, to whom the words “sensitive” and “introspective” owe their continuing membership in the English language?

It is indeed JT, his Sweet Baby James persona far in the past, venturing forth for a rare conversation to discuss a public role he feels comfortable with and quite passionately about: environmental activist.

When he says, “I really get quite worked up about it,” he means it. Yet it’s easy to smile, because “worked up” to Old Reliable Taylor, circa 1996, bears a strong resemblance to laid back.

But there’s no doubt that Taylor, 48, is serious about the threat to clean water, rainforests and other environmental issues dear to his heart.

“I feel a sense of urgency and alarm, concern, about the effect of all our lives on the environment,” he says. And he’s putting his two best-known commodities - his name and his music - behind it.

The Grammy winner recently performed at a 25th-anniversary benefit concert for the Natural Resources Defense Council, where he sits on the board of directors. Behind him was not a small backup band but an entire orchestra. And he performed not “Your Smiling Face” or “Shower the People,” but selections from George Gershwin and Aaron Copland.

“It’s just an experiment,” Taylor says. “It’s not a change of course.”

He has been toying with the new sound for months, joining orchestras in symphony halls to play his own compositions for smaller audiences of theater subscribers, some of whom haven’t been exposed to it.

His music, he has found to his delight, is suited for orchestral treatment.

“It’s quiet and there’s a lot of attention to the arrangement,” he says. “A lot of the time it works.”

During an interview at the Natural Resource Defense Council’s Manhattan headquarters, Taylor wears an all-black outfit right down to his plastic digital watch. Wire-rimmed glasses accentuate his rail-thin, almost gaunt frame. He is heavily balding, stoops slightly and seems a little uncomfortable with his looming frame.

He rarely gives interviews; you could count on one hand how many he’s agreed to in the past five years. When he does, he makes the boundaries quite clear - in his patient, non-confrontational manner.

Even the most innocuous personal question - in what city does he live? - is diverted, though he acknowledges still spending much time on Martha’s Vineyard. You don’t even try to ask about Carly Simon, whom he married, then divorced so long ago. And the old drug problems? He was telling interviewers 11 years back that his only remaining drug problem was people asking him if he still had a drug problem.

The message, in short: Get intimate with his activism and get intimate with his work, but don’t expect to get intimate with him.

Taylor’s involvement with protecting natural resources is only the latest in his history of activism, much of which has produced music.

In 1978, he petitioned President Carter to end the U.S. commitment to nuclear power. A year later, he performed with the likes of Jackson Browne, the Doobie Brothers and Bruce Springsteen as “Musicians United for Safe Energy,” a concert later released as both a film and a triple album called “No Nukes.”

He also performed with Browne and Linda Ronstadt in a 1982 “Peace Week” benefit and contributed to two major children’s ensemble records during that period.

This time around, composer Stanley Silverman arranged some of Taylor’s music for symphonies and orchestra, giving him a “connection into the symphonic world.” Taylor acknowledges having “plenty of trepidation” about whether the songs would transfer well into the new milieu.

“It was like stepping into the comfortable seat of a large ocean liner,” he says.

Three members of his regular band joined him and the 25-piece orchestra for the six-hour daily practices, which Taylor says taught him a great deal. One basic tenet, he says: Temper individualism.

“You can’t have 100 people playing interpretively,” he says, cracking a smile.

“It’s amazing to be in the company of all those great players. I’m used to thinking of music in a rhythmic structure - the rhythm as a grid that everyone shares. Symphonic music - it’s more of giving each note a timed value, and that changes things rhythmically.”

Taylor is not moving away from his 30-year pop career to become a classical musician, he’s quick to assure. “I love the old standards,” he says. He still plans a summer tour with his old band in all the old familiar places, and maybe he’ll soon tour Europe or Asia.

“I’m ready to do some work,” he says. “It’ll be interesting to see what I bring back.”

Then, once again and very abruptly, he turns the conversation back to the environment. And once again, he is at his most animated, talking specifics about environmental legislation and warning about the legacy that will be left for future generations.

“I’m so fired up I’ll have to go out on the street and start haranguing people,” he says, grinning.

Then he crosses his legs, sips some water and says “thank you” softly. It becomes clear that passers-by are in little danger of being harangued by James Taylor on this day.

He’ll contribute in his own low-key way, thank you.

“People, things, all will have moments in the sun and then recede - focus and move on,” Taylor says. “I don’t mean to sort of parade the litany of doom. But these things are happening, and it feels worse to do nothing. This problem doesn’t go away. It doesn’t matter whether it’s out of fashion or not. We’ve got to stick with it. And I plan to.”

MEMO: James Taylor will perform Sept. 7 at The Gorge and Sept. 8 at the Spokane Arena. Tickets are $49.10, $35.45 and $30.25 for The Gorge show (available through Ticketmaster); and $35 and $25 for the Arena (available at all G&B Select-a-Seat outlets).