The ultimate declaration of romantic security, where the folk-rock gentle giant reclaims a Motown classic to celebrate the quiet, intoxicating bliss of being truly cherished.
The year 1975 was a sweet spot in the golden age of the singer-songwriter, a time when vulnerability and sophisticated musicianship were the currency of the charts. Into this mellow, reflective landscape stepped James Taylor, emerging from a period of self-described creative struggle with an album that signaled a lighter, more confident emotional tenure: Gorilla. The record itself was a substantial hit, peaking at No. 6 on the US Billboard 200, a testament to Taylor’s enduring appeal. Yet, the song that truly captured the era’s heart and became one of his signature tracks was his exquisite cover of the Motown classic, “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You).”
Originally a soulful, exuberant hit for the legendary Marvin Gaye in 1964—penned by the genius songwriting triumvirate of Holland–Dozier–Holland—Taylor’s rendition transforms the energetic R&B declaration into a warm, blue-eyed soul confession. Released as the lead single from Gorilla in June 1975, Taylor’s version resonated immediately, soaring up the charts to become a major commercial success. It peaked at No. 5 on the US Billboard Hot 100, and reached a commanding No. 1 on the Easy Listening chart, perfectly aligning with the smooth, comforting vibe of mid-70s radio.
The story behind this particular recording is a beautiful piece of personal and musical history, adding a dramatic layer of romance that still resonates today. At the time of recording, James Taylor was famously married to fellow superstar Carly Simon. Their life together, often depicted by the media as the ultimate bohemian couple, was a whirlwind of collaboration and intense, sometimes volatile, love. This cover, with its overt, grateful lyrics, was widely interpreted as an open, heartfelt tribute from Taylor to Simon. The emotion is made tangible by her presence on the track; Carly Simon herself provides the lush, perfectly pitched harmony vocals, her voice entwining with Taylor’s signature soft, tenor whisper. Hearing them together—the two voices that soundtracked so many relationships of the time—was like peeking into a private moment of domestic serenity. It felt genuine, a public celebration of their famously high-profile, deeply intertwined private world.
The meaning of the song, both in its original context and Taylor’s hands, is an unreserved expression of profound, soul-sustaining gratitude for romantic love. But Taylor’s interpretation leans less on Gaye’s urgent, church-derived fervor and more on the quiet, acoustic satisfaction of finding one’s anchor. The arrangement, with its velvety Fender Rhodes electric piano, the deft bass line of Leland Sklar, and the evocative saxophone solo by the great David Sanborn, creates an atmosphere of pure, languid contentment. For older listeners, the track is a powerful nostalgic echo, a reminder of the security and emotional clarity that a great love can provide. It’s the feeling of returning home, of finally exhaling after years of searching, encapsulated in that gentle, rhythmic groove. It is, perhaps, the sweetest sound a world-weary heart can hear—a song that promises, “As long as you’re here with me, everything is going to be alright.” That simple, profound emotional reassurance, delivered by the most vulnerable of troubadours, made it an essential soundtrack for an entire generation’s most cherished memories.