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| Joni, anticipatin' another nite of romantic knob stuff wit' yrs. truly! |
You will argue, in that unpleasant adenoidal whine you have, that this is an altogether too, too populist choice, and Ms. Mitchell recorded other Perfect Tens only truly appreciated by the cognoscenti [Italian: gear sniffers - Ed.] such as like yer swell self. You may have a point, but go make it somewhere else [like the comments, f'rinstance - Ed.].
The magic that Mitchell worked with Blue was to make guys think she was singing to them, about them (th' saps!) and chicks think she was confiding in them, gal to gal. Listening to Blue is a startlingly intimate experience - there's no distance between her and you. It's not just her spare, and brilliant, production, it's the quality of her singing. Her previous album, Ladies Of The Canyon, was beautiful in the sense of hippie beautiful, her voice still girlish, skipping into cute falsetto. The cover [not at left - Ed,] was a clue - an unfinished page from a coloring book. Incomplete, half way there.
Needing a break from messed-up relationships, she vacationed on a Greek island, fucked a redneck on the beach, and came home a deeper person. I can't bring myself to say became a woman, because I don't have a Stetson and a back porch handy. The timbre [Fr. wood - Ed.] of her voice changed, her internal vision was clearer, and her lyrics hid nothing at all. Again, the cover is a clue; Joni sexing up the mic in super-saturated blue, singing eyes closed, just for you. There's no room for a Big Yellow Taxi in the confessional.
She inhabits her songs rather than performs them. Raw like silk, wild like honey - melody lines wind into unexpected shapes that would defeat less gifted singers, and she's always bang in the middle of the note. There's a chamber music restraint to the arrangements - this is basically a live album, and Joni's front and center. Blue created a naked intimacy that she never recaptured. But she never tried. She's an artist, she don't look back.
This post funded in part by your pals at th' pool hall. who will be contacting you about your contribution.
It's near perfect...when I was about 15 I thought she was near perfect. My mom loved her too, which seemed inexplicable at the time--I grew up ( a little).
ReplyDeleteThis was quick enough - barely time to read the post - but not good enough. In what way imperfect? Back up yr claim with instance and whereby.
DeleteSpeaking for myself--never an easy out--Roberta Joan could been a bit more of a feminist, which only got worse over the years and now..., and had a predilection for the dinosaurs I thought at the time were badly in need of a comet...
DeleteBut, still, damn, fam. And those open tunings. Pretty nearly perfect and, obviously, the flaws and failures are all mine. “Don't it always seem to go..." "clouds get in the way."
“Don't it always seem to go
I can recall when I bought the album. Mum and Dad were off on a shopping trip to Brighton, so I gave Mum the money and said "don't come back without it". She came back with Blue and Ladies of the Canyon. She also loved the Stones.
ReplyDeleteSorry, still prefer Lou and the Velvets to Joni.
ReplyDeleteI do, too, but I lack sorry-tude about it. There's obviously something there in Joni -- she's universally recognized as great -- but I've never gotten it, or gotten past her voice. Not that Lou's (or Mo's) "singing" voice was any better.....
DeleteC in California
This is the album that took her into the realm of artistry (and not just in the sense of recording artist). On a day-to-day basis, I may prefer listening to the trifecta of Court and Spark-Hissing of Summer Lawns-Hejira, but this album made those possible; she became fearless and a poet besides. --Muzak McMusics
ReplyDeleteDo you have the bootleg "The Seeding Of Summer Lawns"?
DeleteRegrettably, no. Only have the alternate mixes called the Mowing of Summer Lawns --Muzak McM
DeleteMight be the same thing - have a look:
Deletehttps://workupload.com/file/Berf2Xf2teJ
thanks for this^^^
DeleteYer welcome.
Delete