“Tapestry” by Carole King
One of my favorite 1970s records turns 55 .
This album review looks back at the record that made one of pop’s great songwriters an era-defining star.
Genre: Pop, Singer-Songwriter, Folk
Label: A&M
Release Date: February 10, 1971
Vibe: 💓💓💓💓
👉 Click the GIF to stream the album on your favorite platform
Off the hop, let’s acknowledge that Tapestry didn’t reinvent Carole King, nor did it really need to. By the time she recorded it as 1970 transitioned into a new year, she’d already written dozens of hits for other artists. Not minor chart entries that have been lost to time, either. We’re talking singles that shaped a decade’s worth of pop radio. Some of the best-known tracks King wrote during her stint as a pure songwriter include “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” for the Shirelles, “The Loco-Motion” for Little Eva, and “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” for Aretha Franklin, a ballad that she’d put her own brilliant spin on to close this record. Her Brill Building catalog would’ve been enough to put her in the running for all manner of Hall of Fame conversation on its own, but Tapestry took her career to unthinkable heights. It’s a document of an assured, soulful performer stepping out of those shadows and, with “It’s Too Late,” rising to the top of the Hot 100 as a solo artist with a distinctive presence. It’s the moment she stopped being the person who made hits for other people and became the only person you wanted to hear sing them.
But that shift wasn’t obvious at first, partly because this LP wasn’t her first attempt to gain notoriety on her own. Her 1970 debut, Writer, had disappointed commercially despite containing some strong material (”What Have You Got to Lose” is an absolute gem, one of several). Critics appreciated the craftsmanship but couldn’t shake the feeling that King was too polished, too restrained, too much the professional songwriter playing the role of solo artist. There was distance in her delivery, one that evaporates in the first few seconds of Tapestry, and that was by design. She recorded it quickly at A&M Studios with a small, trusted band. The sessions prioritized intimacy over production gloss, with producer Lou Adler, who’d worked with everyone from the Mamas & the Papas to Cheech & Chong, harnessing King’s greatest asset: a distinctive semblance of technical imperfection. Instead, these songs prize warmth and vulnerability over everything else, even if she’s communicating using the simplest of melodies.
Case in point: the classic opener, “I Feel the Earth Move,” kicking things off with a strutting, gospel-tinged stomp that announces King as a calm yet unmistakable force. The piano riff is direct and, on a renewed listen, quite physical in how it’s played, delivering the kind of hook that gets under your skin before you even realize it’s dug that deep. Her voice, here and throughout the tracklist, isn’t trying to out-sing anyone. It’s conversational and never not alive, thanks to King’s infectious energy. When she hits the chorus, there’s joy in it, but also a world-weary grit. Forget radio play-mongering: This is a love song written for someone who knows what desire feels like when it’s real and unvarnished. Funny enough, the track became a Top 10 hit in several countries anyway and remains one of the most enduring album starters in the singer-songwriter canon.
If you’re into the point where pop, folk, and even wisps of vocal jazz converge, then you’ll know a lot of these tunes off by heart. “So Far Away” shifts the tone after “Earth Move,” aching with stillness and longing. It’s a song about missing someone, but King writes it with the kind of restraint that somehow makes it more emotional than if she’d belted it to the back row. Because there’s no massive crescendo, there’s also no melodrama. Only piano, gentle strings, and a voice that sounds like it’s opening its heart to an empty room, and that’s just fine, thank you very much. James Taylor’s backing vocal adds some nice texture, too, without overwhelming King’s lead, a subtle reminder that she was surrounded by peers who respected her craft immensely. He shows up on another of the album’s enduring anthems, “You’ve Got a Friend,” which was written by and later covered by Taylor. King’s version is softer, more nurturing, inhabiting the song instead of mimicking the voice that created the source material. A small distinction, but a critical one.
If I had to pick, “It’s Too Late” is the album’s most beautiful construction. Co-written with lyricist Toni Stern, it’s a breakup song that refuses to wallow. The arrangement is a direct, delicate wonder, a straightforward groove of piano, bass, drums, and saxophone. But what makes it special is how locked in the rhythm feels. It’s effortless, as is King’s vocal, both matter-of-fact, almost resigned, in their delivery. Thankfully, any melodramatic bitterness is kept at arm’s length. It’s the kind of conversation you have with a friend, partner or not, after the big blow-up fight. The relationship is over, and she’s already moved forward several stages to the acceptance part. accepted it. That level of unfussy honesty, wrapped in this wonderful earworm of a melody, genuinely connected with the populous. The single spent five weeks at No. 1 on the Hot 100 and won King a Grammy for Record of the Year. It also became her signature song, the one that proved she didn’t need bombast or vocal acrobatics to command a room.
The less-appreciated gems also rank among the best work King has ever done. “Home Again” follows “It’s Too Late” with a snapshot of the aftermath of the relationship that no longer is, after the door slams shut behind you and you’re staring at a desolate path in front of you, suitcases in hand. It also features one of her loveliest singing performances on the entire album. There’s also the giddily devoted “Where You Lead,” a funkier soul-adjacent cut, followed closely by “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?,” a cut that expertly captures the insecurities of a new love. Closing the LP is King’s version of the all-time classic released first by Aretha Franklin, “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.” Her take pulls you even closer than the Franklin original, doubling down on the intimate, confessional nature of the central statement. It’s a microcosm of the Tapestry experience in one track—King reclaiming her past and predicting her future by making her story legitimately her own.
The numbers only tell part of the story. The LP spent 15 consecutive weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 and remained on the chart for 318 weeks (over six years). It sold more than 25 million copies worldwide and won four Grammy Awards, including Album of the Year. But none of that fully captures what the album meant to listeners. It was, for lack of a better word, trusted. People played it when they needed comfort, when they needed to process heartbreak, when they needed to feel less alone. 55 years later, Tapestry still sounds warm, immediate, and completely uninterested in sugarcoating what love (and loss) actually feels like on the inside. It doesn’t sound dated because it was never trying to be of its moment in the first place. All King was aiming for, it seemed, was honesty. Maybe for the first time. She was showing up as herself, and that was more than enough.
What’s your favorite Carole King track? Shout it out in the comments.
Pick one track! Not possible. Love your review.