It was as apt a description of Taylor's appeal as any, acknowledging the lanky songsmith's position at the vanguard of a new breed of balladeers whose intimate recordings ran counter to the more frenzied delivery of high-voltage rock acts.
Taylor's 1970 sophomore LP Sweet Baby James had earned him Grammy nominations on the back of No 3 Billboard rankings for both the album and for hit single Fire And Rain.
Fresh from stints in rehab to address his heroin and methedrine habits, and hospitalisation following a motorcycle accident, and with a history of depression that he would later describe as an inseparable part of his personality, the then 22-year-old was cast by Time as "a blend of Heathcliffian inner fire with a melancholy sorrows-of-young-Werther look that can strike to the female heart".
Forty years distant from this romanticised take on Taylor's image, his career-defining release can be viewed more dispassionately. It is for the most part an earnest, hazard-free stroll through Taylor's country, gospel, folk and acoustic-blues influences, peaking noticeably with Fire And Rain but sprinkled with such understated gems as Country Road and the title track's cowboy-lullaby. Only the blues workout Steamroller finds Taylor's tongue placed firmly in cheek as he trots out a line of unlikely claims about his machismo.
But search for an X-factor and you'll struggle to find one here. Why? Because it's staring you in the face, directly from the artist's blank gaze on the album's cover. Taylor has removed the elements of gimmickry and overdressing that had become prevalent in rock music and has left the song to speak for itself. In doing so, he has also watered down any threat. To some, it's a comfort and a pleasure. To others, it's a passion-killer.
