![\"Carole](\"https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2026\/10\/GettyImages-85336848-710x1024.jpg\")
NOT LONG AFTER Lou Adler met Carole King in 1961, he realised he had a problem with his new company\u2019s young songwriter: Her demos were so catchy and complete that producers refused to return them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A 19-year-old mother then pregnant with her second daughter, King and her husband, Gerry Goffin, had recently signed a publishing deal with Aldon Music, a burgeoning stable of chart-defining talent a block up from New York\u2019s Brill Building. Late in 1960, The Shirelles had given the kids their first hit with the cascading doo-wop of Will You Love Me Tomorrow? A decade older, Adler had already found success himself as a California songwriter and music manager before Aldon recruited him to open a West Coast branch. In New York to meet the bosses and get to know their talent, Adler recognised that the very quality that made King\u2019s demos a keepsake would eventually make her a star. That is, she<\/em> was as good as the couple\u2019s songs, maybe better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe first time I met Carole, she had a playpen with her kid in it. From that point, I had one of her kids on my hip or in a basket below the soundboard wherever we were working,\u201d Adler, now 87, remembers with a wry chuckle. \u201cBut I knew from that first time, watching her play piano and sing, that if you took that exact setting and put it on the stage, she wins. With the talent she had to put a song across, she was captivating.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Exactly a decade later, King, Adler, and a familiar band of their Laurel Canyon cronies gathered in Studio B of A&M Records, headquartered on the former movie lot of Charlie Chaplin. After eight years of writing hits in a New Jersey suburb, Goffin and King had split and moved separately to Los Angeles. King had found new songwriting partners, new bandmates, and, reluctantly, a new career \u2013 singing her own songs at the start of the singer-songwriter era.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In just two weeks, they cut over a dozen tunes about lust and love, heartbreak and homesickness, enemies and empowerment, including a pensive spin on Will You Love Me Tomorrow? Issued by Adler\u2019s Ode label on February 10, 1971, the day after King\u2019s 29th birthday, Tapestry<\/em> steadily generated glowing reviews. In April, the LP entered the US charts, where it remained uninterrupted for the next six years. It soon began a 50-week stay on the UK charts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhen we stepped outside the night after finishing the album, the guitarist, Danny Kortchmar, said, \u2018What do you think, Lou?\u2019 I told him that I thought we had the musical Love Story,\u201d says Adler, referencing 1970\u2019s box office smash. \u201cDanny didn\u2019t like that very much, because he was not crazy about that movie. But I meant that Tapestry<\/em> would resonate with people, that we had made the soundtrack of a lot of people\u2019s lives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the 50 years since Adler made his prediction, the dozen songs of Tapestry<\/em> have been covered more than 700 times, scored fashion commercials and TV shows, and prompted a long-running Broadway musical. The first album by a woman to sell 10 million copies, Tapestry<\/em> has since sold more than 25 million copies worldwide and has inspired subsequent generations to sing their feelings without apology \u2013 even if they sound \u201csqueaky,\u201d as one early pan scolded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Indeed, Tapestry<\/em>\u2019s enduring power stems not only from King\u2019s songwriting chops and her decade of experience hearing her tunes become hits. In California as the \u201970s dawned, the Jewish piano prodigy from Brooklyn \u2013 so slight that the New York Times noted \u201cshe could have been mistaken for the babysitter\u201d (this was in 1970, when she was 28) \u2013 unlocked a newfound sense of liberation and self-confidence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n King never wanted to be a star, tour, or talk to the press. (As has been her wont for almost 50 years, she declined an interview for this piece.) She just wanted to sing her own songs her own way. \u201cCarole was the musical genesis for Tapestry<\/em>, dictating how she wanted the thing to sound,\u201d says James Taylor. \u201cThat was relatively rare then, but that was the singer-songwriter thing. It was liberated from a commercial sensibility, with a producer always looking over your shoulder. It was open to chance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n THE THREADS ULTIMATELY WOVEN into Tapestry were spun soon after King arrived in Laurel Canyon in March 1968 with her daughters, Sherry and Louise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before King and Goffin split, they\u2019d visited Los Angeles on a business trip to discuss The Monkees, the television show that soon spawned the novelty band. Don Kirshner, the Aldon co-founder who signed King to a publishing deal when she was 17, was The Monkees\u2019 music supervisor. He wanted Goffin and King on the case, so he dispatched the couple to California to meet with the show\u2019s co-creator, Bert Schneider. He handed King a set of four songs. \u201cThese are good,\u201d she replied. \u201cDid you write them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No, but his paramour, Toni Stern, had penned them during a trip together in Paris. King soon met with Stern, who knew nothing about her string of hits, in an apartment owned by the studio. They turned those four sheets of lyrics into four songs. They later wrote another tune inspired by Stanley Kubrick\u2019s 2001: A Space Odyssey and reworked As We Go Along, a song King had started with Goffin, for The Monkees\u2019 movie, Head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt would take me days to write a lyric, but she would write the entire song within the hour. She told me that, when I handed her a page, it was like the song wrote itself,\u201d says Stern. \u201cAnd I was totally virginal \u2013 I thought that\u2019s how everybody<\/em> worked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When King relocated to Los Angeles, Stern \u2013 a lifelong Californian and bon vivant whose mother managed a vogue apartment building full of celebrities and entrepreneurs \u2013 became her tour guide and, for years, her main collaborator. Stern would create exact drafts on yellow legal pads, with the verses, chorus, and bridge broken into columns. They\u2019d meet at King\u2019s crowded house on Wonderland Avenue or Stern\u2019s small home 10 minutes away on Kirkwood Drive, gather around the piano, and then drive to the studio for King to cut the demo. Writing together, Stern and Adler agree, offered King a permission slip, a belief she could craft songs without her ex-husband by her side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhen we met, she was married with two kids and a live-in housekeeper. I was this kid from LA discovering who I was \u2013 23, at my hormonal peak,\u201d says Stern. \u201cI exuded this self-confidence, this cool. I think that helped her realise she could write herself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another boost soon came with the California arrival of several old East Coast acquaintances. During the middle of their tenure at Aldon, Goffin and King started a short-lived label, Tomorrow Records, to release several King demos and some singles by hooky folk-rock upstarts The Myddle Class. The band backed King on several of her songs; their bassist, Charlie Larkey, was instantly smitten. \u201cI was 18 when we met. There was quite a spark, if we can put it that way,\u201d says Larkey today, with a bashful giggle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But The Myddle Class couldn\u2019t overcome unforeseen obstacles, like a sound system that exploded when they opened for The Animals at New York\u2019s Town Hall. When they split, Larkey enlisted with art-cum-rock act The Fugs. Soon after The Fugs played Los Angeles in 1968, Larkey gave the band his notice and told King to make room \u2013 he was moving to California to live with her and the kids.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Several years earlier, Larkey and his Myddle Class bandmates had taken King to the fabled Greenwich Village haunt The Night Owl Caf\u00e9 to see The Flying Machine. Formed by two blues-loving friends who knew one another from summers on Martha\u2019s Vineyard, James Taylor and Danny Kortchmar, The Flying Machine were a folk-rock act looking for their big break. When, instead, they broke up, Kortchmar also took a job with The Fugs. It also led him to California. \u201cI was tired of The Fugs and freezing cold. California was warm, everyone was very friendly, and there was opportunity,\u201d says Kortchmar. \u201cBands could just set up in a house, which I could never imagine in New York, and rehearse. There was more of everything in Los Angeles.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n KORTCHMAR \u2013 OR KOOTCH, AS HE\u2019D BEEN CALLED since childhood \u2013 began showing up at King\u2019s house at Wonderland Avenue with his guitar, jamming with her on piano and Larkey on bass. They retooled songs King had written with Goffin, plus new ones from her budding partnership with Stern. Larkey, who loved Adler\u2019s work with The Mamas And The Papas, suggested King call her old friend to listen. Adler responded with a record contract. By the end of the year, their band, The City, had recorded and released Now That Everything\u2019s Been Said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The trio\u2019s ambitions were quickly quashed. Just as it was issued, Adler left CBS Records, taking his label, Ode, to A&M. With no marketing push, Now That Everything\u2019s Been Said<\/em> languished. It was their first and final album; for Larkey, it felt like the end of a career and a relationship that had never begun. He moved out of King\u2019s house, got his own garage apartment, and started working as a busboy at the legendary vegetarian restaurant, H.E.L.P. \u201cI didn\u2019t really understand what depression was, but, in retrospect, I was depressed,\u201d he says. \u201cEverything wasn\u2019t terrible, because it was still Southern California. But it was not a happy time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n After less than a year, though, Larkey had returned to music and to King. Soon after he moved back into their little place on Wonderland, they married in the front yard, three months before making Tapestry<\/em>. Just nine months after releasing the record they had Molly, their first of two children together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For Adler, The City accomplished precisely what he hoped. After hearing the band, he\u2019d initially offered only King a recording contract, a proposal she rejected. Making the trio album slowly coaxed her toward the spotlight while providing her the cover of being in a band. \u201cAs the producer and label owner, I never thought of The City as a group that was going to make their next album and promote it. I thought of The City as a recording entity,\u201d Adler says. \u201cI was always thinking about what Carole would be doing next.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The City\u2019s stunted lifespan reintroduced King to someone whose belief in her musicianship cleared the path to Tapestry<\/em>. Back at The Night Owl, she\u2019d briefly met James Taylor before The Flying Machine wowed her. Now in Los Angeles, Kortchmar introduced her to Peter Asher, who had signed Taylor to The Beatles\u2019 Apple Records and followed him to California after his debut flopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Asher gushed when he met King in 1969, telling her about all the Goffin & King standards he and The Beatles had loved, learned, and played. He asked her to stop by the sprawling house he was renting and hear Taylor\u2019s new songs. \u201cJames is sitting there with the guitar, just staring at his shoes, which was his primary mode of operation at the time,\u201d Asher says. \u201cI said, \u2018Why don\u2019t you both sit at the piano bench and play?\u2019 It fit immediately. They just liked each other, genuine love and respect of the most basic kind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Weeks later, she was at Sunset Sound, playing piano and adding harmonies to Taylor\u2019s breakthrough LP, Sweet Baby James<\/em>. He returned the favour for her 1970 solo debut, Writer. When she joined his touring band, he urged her to sing one of her hits with Goffin, Up On The Roof, at Queens College, New York, her alma mater. At last, King was standing somewhere near the spotlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe had just thought of herself as a tunesmith, this hired gun,\u201d says Taylor. \u201cI didn\u2019t do it as a project or something premeditated. It was just easy to say, \u2018Everybody knows this song, Carole. C\u2019mon, sing it.\u2019 She\u2019s the one that wrote it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n BY LATE NOVEMBER OF 1970, TAYLOR\u2019S STAR HAD risen significantly thanks to Sweet Baby James<\/em>. He was scheduled to play a week of sold-out shows at Los Angeles\u2019s fabled Troubadour when he began conspiring with Asher and Adler. If King was going to perform in his band anyway, why not have her open with a set of her own? With the promise of a string quartet to back her, she relented.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On that first night, Taylor and Asher sat in the balcony to watch King\u2019s soundcheck and offer an encouraging word should she need it. Instead, she gave them a gift, a song she\u2019d finished only the night before: You\u2019ve Got A Friend. Written in part as a response to Taylor\u2019s tragic Fire And Rain, where he coos \u201cI\u2019ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,\u201d the song gobsmacked the pair. Taylor rushed backstage and teased out the melody on guitar. King taught him the words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Taylor was recording Mud Slide Slim And The Blue Horizon<\/em> a month later, the band burned extra studio time with a casual cover for their own amusement. Asher lamented that it wasn\u2019t their song to release. Taylor asked King if they might share it, since Adler had already convinced her to record it for Tapestry<\/em>. The song, which he now calls \u201cthe national anthem of friendship\u201d, earned Taylor his first Grammy and only Number 1 Billboard single.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf it would have been me and someone would have scooped me on a song like that\u2026\u201d says Taylor, his voice trailing off in search of the answer. \u201cFor her to say go ahead, that\u2019s unheard-of generosity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Such give-and-take appears to have epitomised the sessions for Tapestry<\/em> \u2013 by all accounts, uneventful except for the songs they were recording. In a clear break from the wild mores that governed Laurel Canyon, there was no booze, drugs, or \u201ccarrying on in the studio\u201d, as engineer Hank Cicalo puts it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instead, the atmosphere in A&M\u2019s Studio B was relaxed in the right way, owing to everyone\u2019s familiarity with one another and the material. Larkey and King were newlyweds who had rehearsed many of these songs at home. What\u2019s more, the core band \u2013 Larkey, Kortchmar, drummer Joel O\u2019Brien and keyboardist Ralph Schuckett \u2013 had recently started the romping quintet, Jo Mama, and released their first album on Atlantic. They were ready to play, and King was ready to lead. \u201cWhen Carole enters the studio, there is no doubt in her mind what she\u2019s doing. She\u2019s got all the elements, like the sheets the musicians need,\u201d says Adler. \u201cAll we had to add was the creative process, and we had very cool musicians there to work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Stern stopped by the studio with her hulking seven-year-old German Shepherd, Arf, Adler snuck him through studio security by insisting they were going to record his barks. She marvelled as the band worked, stunned by their ease with the pair of tunes she\u2019d co-written, Where You Lead and It\u2019s Too Late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe impression I got from the control room was just how good-looking and talented everyone was,\u201d Stern remembers. \u201cThere were no egos or histrionics. I owe so much of that to the mood Carole set. It was all about the craft.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n IN HER 2012 MEMOIR, A NATURAL WOMAN, KING recalls her daughters traipsing in and out of the studio and their evening calls about homework or sibling squabbles. Cicalo, himself a father of three, remembers his admiration when King would arrive each morning, occasionally exhausted from making breakfast for the kids and preparing them for school. Some of those days, he says, they\u2019d simply track the band with King on piano and leave the vocals for days when she was rested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Indeed, the mood was so domestic that Cicalo surprised Adler with a quixotic idea while the band rehearsed: they should turn the lights off in the control room so that the musicians would forget they were there, watching and listening and recording. Cicalo wanted the studio to feel like the living room where King and Larkey worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe didn\u2019t want to cause any distraction. Studios are bad \u2013 you put a sign on the door that says \u2018Recording\u2019, and there are suddenly three guys there looking for cigarettes,\u201d says Cicalo in a galloping Brooklyn accent, a reminder that he and King grew up in nearby neighbourhoods a decade apart. \u201cThey ignored us, like they didn\u2019t even know we were there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The sense of family and home that pervaded the Tapestry<\/em> sessions stemmed in part from who was working next door and down them street. Taylor was a mile away at Crystal Sound, making Mud Slide<\/em> Slim<\/em>. And Joni Mitchell, Taylor\u2019s girlfriend for a pivotal spell, was also at A&M, recording Blue<\/em> down the hall in Studio C.<\/p>\n\n\n\n King, Mitchell and Taylor floated in and out of one another\u2019s sessions, singing or playing on one another\u2019s albums. Taylor added guitar to King\u2019s version of You\u2019ve Got A Friend, while Mitchell sang on his. In an act of reclaiming the past, they harmonised on King\u2019s debut hit from a decade earlier, Will You Love Me Tomorrow?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kortchmar, meanwhile, shuffled between Crystal Sound and A&M, working with Taylor and King. And drummer Russ Kunkel played on several songs from Tapestry<\/em>, Blue<\/em> and Mud Slide Slim<\/em>, a career-making trifecta packed into a month. Kunkel\u2019s knack for understanding and enhancing mood made him a longtime singer-songwriter favourite. On Tapestry<\/em>, he gives So Far Away its sense of insistent drift, a song always in search of home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRuss is not trying to drive the tune, which is a very difficult thing for a drummer,\u201d says Taylor. \u201cRuss somehow drives things while listening and being totally open to anything you want to try.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before they\u2019d started recording Tapestry<\/em>, Cicalo took King on a tour of A&M\u2019s three Steinway pianos. A&M cofounder Herb Alpert had purchased a German-built Steinway made from deep red wood, as opposed to the New York-built Steinways. With bright high notes, it responded perfectly to King\u2019s heavy left hand and coruscant leads. \u201cShe looked at me, smiled, and said, \u2018This is it, isn\u2019t it?\u2019\u201d remembers Cicalo. \u201cShe could just feel it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was just one problem: Joni Mitchell was using that piano in Studio C for Blue<\/em>. One January evening, while Mitchell was taking a break, King\u2019s band rushed into Studio C and cut three songs \u2013 I Feel The Earth Move, You\u2019ve Got A Friend, and (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman. The piano gave them the punch they needed. When Mitchell finished Blue<\/em>, Cicalo had the piano wheeled into Studio B, where King finished Tapestry<\/em> with it. But that was the album\u2019s highest drama.<\/p>\n\n\n\n BUT IF MAKING TAPESTRY<\/em> SEEMED EFFORTLESS, preparing it for the public was not. Though Adler takes pride in being hands-off in the studio, he takes as much pride in shaping the package: \u201cMarketing, sales, art, all the way down to the promotion.\u201d He and King laboured over potential sequences, discarding every attempt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIn The Mamas And Papas, John Phillips was very sequence-minded, thinking about how you get to the next track without a musical bump,\u201d Adler says. \u201cWith Tapestry<\/em>, I was very concerned that there wouldn\u2019t be any kind of bump, lyrically or with feel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n So Adler took the unfinished Tapestry<\/em> to his vacation home in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where he tinkered with the tracklist daily for three weeks. He cut Out In The Cold, a lithe R&B tune that offers a cautionary tale about cheating, and (he believes) a 14th song that, amazingly, he never came across again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of his key decisions, he remembers, was closing with King\u2019s restrained take on (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman. She\u2019d written it four years earlier with her first husband for Aretha Franklin; now, she had recorded it with her second husband on upright bass. It was less about reclaiming the anthem from Aretha Franklin and more about claiming it for<\/em> King, too. Tapestry<\/em>, after all, was a record about a married mother at the edge of 30 staking out a more complete identity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was a Goffin & King song, and I thought they should be represented on Tapestry<\/em>. But we weren\u2019t competing with Aretha,\u201d Adler says. \u201cWe were showing the birth of the song. When Carole presented songs like that, like her demos, it resonated because of her feelings for the lyrics.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In mid-December 2020, Adler turned 87. On his birthday, he received an e-mail from his nine-year-old grandson, Walter, at home in Ireland. The boy had sung one of his favourite songs and sent it as a gift. It was Tapestry, King\u2019s fable of light and dark, life and death, and the only song she plays solo on the album that bears its name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For decades, Adler had barely thought about the tune, a sleeper just ahead of the \u2026Natural Woman finale. Hearing a new generation sing it, Adler realised again how quickly King\u2019s writing had grown. He forwarded her the recording. On a quarantined birthday where, as he puts it, he longed to hug his family, the sentiment connected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA lot of people write songs. A lot of people write hit songs. But when Carole sings So Far Away or Home Again, she\u2019s able to bring forth her personal feelings,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd the feelings on Tapestry<\/em> touch so many nerves. On my birthday, it hit me that way.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Timeless, seemingly effortless, Carole King\u2019s Tapestry weaves its healing spell with songs that feel found, not written. Celebrating 50 years of its connection with millions, its cast of friends, lovers and true believers recount how the antidote to every \u201870s rock clich\u00e9 required a shy-genius songsmith, a decade of confidence-building and exactly the right piano. \u201cIt was all about the craft,\u201d they tell Grayson Haver Currin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":1192,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1168","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":{"article_authors":"Grayson Haver Currin","send_as_draft":true,"send_as_paid":true,"send_as_featured":true},"modified_by":"kschwarz","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1168","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1168"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1168\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1197,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1168\/revisions\/1197"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1192"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1168"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1168"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1168"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"Songwriting](\"https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2026\/10\/husband_and_wife_songwriting_team_carole_king_and_gerry_goffin_pose_picture_id74279812-808x1024.jpg\")
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