Carly Simon
No Secrets

It was September 1972, the then twenty-nine-year-old New York singer-songwriter Simon was in London to record her third album at the Trident Studios, according to her producer's wishes. Therefore, every morning a car would pick her up from the hotel to take her to work in those studios. But that day, acclaimed rock photographer Ed Caraeff was also in the taxi, tasked by the production to set up a photoshoot for the singer, aiming to place some images on the cover of the new album.

Caraeff then, still seated inside the taxi, was inspired to take a snapshot of her as she was just leaving the Portobello Hotel in the Notting Hill neighborhood, approaching them to get into the car.

And there she was, stunningly beautiful, captured in an obviously entirely natural pose and therefore even more astonishingly attractive: her slender yet curvy body, long pianist fingers, the nipples sensually pressing against the sweater, her calm gaze towards the camera but slightly puzzled, or surprised, by being photographed. Her generous mouth slightly open (perhaps she's speaking, saying hello) in any case composes, along with and more than everything else, an overflowing allure of sensuality.

Ultimately, this snapshot rightly ends up on the album cover, with the best photo from the subsequent set relegated to the back. Picking on a minor detail, or rather skimming the surface, it's not that Simon is always as astronomically beautiful as she is in this unparalleled photo: her prognathism, in many other poses or snapshots, can be a subject of meticulous note, but at the time I went crazy for such a splendid example of "mixed heritage" (half German and half Jewish father, half Cuban mother...) and nitpicking the allure of this artist is truly out of place. Damn, did she really have to start a family with that unreliable junkie James Taylor, with the endless line of men wagging their tails behind her?

Speaking of the line of men behind her, this work contains the famous " You're So Vain ", one of those more-than-perfect pop songs, the lyrics of which blissfully mock a couple of her flings with incredibly vain young men, specifically Warren Beatty and Mick Jagger. The track stands out distinctly among the others, introduced by that precious brushstroke of distinctiveness thanks to Klaus Woorman's famous bass riff, later interspersed with a melodious, delightful slide guitar solo also quite unique.

The entire album is equally delightful, as long as one isn't prejudiced against American soft rock. Carly has a voice that's not very powerful, delicate but expressive and very well controlled, for example when she switches to falsetto. She composes and plays her pieces mostly on the piano, otherwise on the acoustic guitar, as befits a genuine singer-songwriter. To assist her here and there are big names like Taylor (whom she was about to marry), George and Payne from Little Feat, Paul and Linda McCartney on backing vocals, and many others.

I don't collect much soft rock in my record collection; with its American prima donnas then (King, Nicks, Slick...) I take it in small doses, except for Mitchell who is out of category, a Martian, a goddess, worthy of entire evenings of devoted listening and revision. But I snapped up this Simon album immediately and occasionally I grab it again. For the cover, if nothing else.