Over the last few years a type of rock figure has appeared whose roots go far deeper than those of rock. Most often he or she is described as the "singer-songwriter," the "balladeer," "minstrel," or "folk-rocker."

But these people--among them James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens, Rick Nelson, Rod Stewart, Bill Withers, Neil Young, Neil Diamond and, yes, Barbra Streisand--belong not so much to rock and roll as to the age-old tradition of the "star." Being stars, they are this decade's (and the last decade's) version of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Helen Morgan and Billie Holiday.

The attitude of the audience toward all such artists is the same, despite the difference in decades, lifestyles, music and personalities. Those who thrilled to, say, Henry Burr singing "Old Pal Why Don't You Answer Me?" in 1919, sighed later when Crosby sang "When the Blue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day." Racing through the years, we can see that Frank Sinatra singing any of his classics, Presley singing "Hound Dog," James Taylor singing "Fire and Rain," Joni Mitchell singing "Both Sides Now" (who would she have been years ago--Ruth Etting? Helen Forrest?) or Cat Stevens singing "Morning Has Broken" produce the same effect on the audience: the singer is singing to 'me' in a personal way; the singer knows my life and I know his; the singer knows the times I live in; I wanna hug him/her till he/she squeaks.

The outstanding difference of today's "new crooners" is that the times we live in are so crowded with present and future shock that the audience has only a limited amount of time or attention to devote to whatever message a given singer is sending out. Many singers are extremely related to today's needs, wants and confusions, but these needs change so often that the relatedness becomes --er, um--perhaps too related to its own moment. "Its own moment" may be three months of 1971, six months of 1974, etc. It will be enough 30 or 50 years from now, to say "Sinatra" to describe a whole artistic world and time. But will it be sufficient to say, even 10 years from now, "Mitchell," "Nelson," "Stevens," "Stewart" and embody the same idea?

In lieu of agreeing to meet back here 10 years hence to compare notes, here is what some of the nominated names have been doing lately.

After a year's time between albums, James Taylor, the shy and wounded composer of the stunning "Fire and Rain," has reappeared with a fine new album "One Man Dog." A short time ago, Taylor married Carly Simon, a statuesque and penetrating singer of songs about what women don't want or need. Her new album, smooth and professional, is "No Secrets". Rick Nelson, writing in frustration for a least 10 years over a teen-rock past he neither liked nor needed, has finally had a substantial hit, "Garden Party," a polite rebuff to the limited, but popular, concept of rock and roll nostalgia. His new album, titled after the single, proves, as has his last few albums, that he really does have talent; he is a much more flexible singer these days than in the past and quite a commendable guitarist.

Both Cat Stevens in "Catch Bull At Four" and Kris Kristofferson in "Jesus Was A Capricorn" continue to delight their fans and puzzle their non-fans. Stevens seems to be after something but it is never quite clear what: he jumps on several musical style-horses and gallops off in all directions, singing Exceisior or Te Deum lyrics in an intense, befuddling voice. Kristofferson's musical persona seems to be that of a man, usually a sexy hobo, who understands given situations--especially with women--but cannot relate them to the world, outside of saying, "Sure is a funny/crazy/down [choose adjective] world, ain't it?"

Rod Stewart, the hoarse-voiced singer of what seems to be English small-town scene songs (this is roughly comparable to a very talented performer singing songs of what really goes on in Pittsburgh), continues to fascinate with "Never A Dull Moment". A thorough musician, Stewart consciously uses his voice as an instrument of the band backing him; this makes his work interesting and powerful, in selected doses. Joni Mitchell, whose best-known song is "Both Sides Now," made famous by Judy Collins, continues her successful balancing act of self-introspection without self-pity--writing some fine songs in the process--in "For The Roses. Do not overlook "Steve Goodman", one of the most powerful, poignant and pucking songwriters to appear in the whole folk-rock era.

Neil Young's "Journey Through The Past" is another example of his brilliant and elusive talent. He is a poet whose artistry is such that, although he speaks in his own language, some kind of message comes through without translation or footnotes. But Neil Diamond's "Moods" is just the opposite: he is the typical Brooklyn boy fired by ambition who yearns to make it big by writing hummable tunes--which he has.

Bill Withers and Barbra Streisand are relative newcomers to this scene. Both are extremely independent talents. As a potent Broadway personality, Streisand had already been placed by an adoring public in the Hall of Immortals. Yer her recording of "Stoney End" about two years ago, in which she deliberately went for the pop sound, is probably her most successful effort, artistically and commercially. On this album she willingly submitted her great, wild talent to the disciplines of pop and now she seems to have found her real home, despite her torchy theatrical success. Her new album is "Live At The Forum" on which you can hear her style and her audience, both of which are manipulable.

Bill Withers is, in his own way, even more remarkable. He is black, but in a time when many black performers find it easier and more prestigious to emphasize their blackness rather than their talent, Withers is a true individual. He goes his own way. Without hammering on his ethnic background, Withers writes and sings simple, direct songs which have worldwide appeal. In addition, he is a charming personality who inspires good fellowship along with finger-snapping. Withers is true to himself and true to everybody else. His current album is "Still Bill".

There probably never has been a time when music and the public were so close together emotionally, and when there is as much diversity in music as there is in public taste, needs and wants. Perhaps this decade will not produce another Sinatra, but considering our delicate and tentative emotions today, perhaps that is as it should be. Anyway, that's the way it is.