"What I'm feeling is always written on my face"
- BLUE
Alright, time to make an important sounding statement:
Joni Mitchell is the best female - and one of the very best overall - singer
and songwriter ever to grace our dusty planet. Before you mutter in disgust
"what? that lame folkie gone pretentious jazz composer?" and go away to do more
important things, like listening to Courtney Love, let me tell you one thing:
she's very underrated, most people have yet to notice her immense talent. Born
Roberta Joan Anderson in Canada, she moved to California in the late sixties,
where got some of her songs covered by the likes of Judy Collins and CSN, and
recorded her first album in 1968. Since then, she kept releasing great records
all through the seventies, being the most solid solo artist of the epoch, together
with Stevie Wonder.
Somehow, every starry-eyed girl with a guitar pretending to be confessional
and deep is in debt with Joni, but few, if any, of them have her ability to
express even the most personal feelings in a non vomit-inducing way, not to
mention her compositional skills or voice. To sum it up in one sentence: her
lyrics are often true poetry, her guitar playing is jaw-dropping (weird tunings,
chords and stuff) and her singing awe-inspiring. I'm running out of superlatives
here, but I can't help but recommend you to pick up one her records. As far
as I know, you simply can't go wrong with any of her work from Blue to
Hejira, where she successfully evolved from pristine folk to sophisticated
jazz. Getting Joni's records is surprisingly difficult here in Spain, and I
still have to hear masterpieces like For The Roses and The Hissing
Of The Summer Lawns, but I’m trying as hard as I can.
You know, sometimes an album can be depressing and comforting
at the same time. So with Blue. Every time I hear Joni's crystalline
voice wandering through these off-kilter melodies I get shivers down my spine.
How to describe it? Her singing is so expressive, the lyrics so poignant, and
the songs... surely deserve a closer examination. "All I Want" might well be
the best love song ever written: there's regret, hope and anger in those lyrics,
perfectly complemented by the spare, rhythmic dulcimer strumming, and it's blissful.
My favourite Joni song, bar none. "My Old Man" is a piano tune, like about half
of the ones here. I feel compelled to say something now about her piano playing:
obviously, she can't compete with Carole King on this count, as her left
hand usually accompanies the melody in the same way, with arpeggios, and it
all sounds a bit samey. Still, kudos to Joni; the guitar is her first instrument
and she had been recently practicing on the piano for the first time since she
took lessons in her childhood and was turned down by some stupid know-all teacher.
Next is "Little Green", a profoundly personal song. It's dedicated to Joni's
child given in adoption before her rise to fame, with whom, as in a fairy tale,
she reunited a few years ago. The song itself is a pretty, acoustic lullaby,
and I just love that "be a gypsy dancer" line.
1970 was some kind of sabbatical year for Joni. Her travels around Europe and
her romance with James Taylor were reflected in her writing. Actually, "Carey"
and "Blue" both seem to be about him, but with Joni you can never really tell.
The first is the only song featuring a rhythm section and, well, is really mood
raising, while the cryptic title track flows through a rather unusual structure...
but there's always a chance to go back home, and that's what "California" is
about. I can hardly imagine Spanish people reading Rolling Stone back in the
early seventies but, anyway, great song. And now... "This Flight Tonight". The
jangly guitars are rather heavy (Nazareth fans, are you listening?), and Joni's
desperate prayer to the starbright is chilling. The fake radio effect is cute
also. By the way, that song is most likely banned from the American airwaves
these days. Unlike "River", a harmless "Jingle Bells" rip-off. What? Can't you
tell a rip-off from a quote, you dumbass? Oh well, now that the first bars are
over, I realize the actual song is far from being a carol, moreover, it's pretty
sad. Who hasn't wished to "sky away on" when Christmas comes on? "The Last Time
I Saw Richard" is the worst song here, a bit overwordy and melodramatic for
my tastes. Still, the storytelling is just as moving as everything else. "Hiding
behind bottles in some dark cafe". I hope not to end like that. Then again,
I don't like alcohol (must be allergy or something), so I will probably be hiding
behind a glass of orange juice. Heck, I was so eager to put down "The Last Time
I Saw Richard" that I almost forget to mention "A Case Of You". Just when I
thought I was done... ehm, it has a nice, touching refrain and one of the lines
is lifted from an obscure tragedy. End of the review.
P.S. Have you read "Julius Caesar", by Shakespeare? No? Damn.
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The comparison above, while not the most appropriate way to
introduce one of my favourite albums, isn't senseless at all, because here Joni
manages a tasteful, jazzy sound the Dans could only hope for, while achieving
her biggest commercial success. And with an album full of dense arrangements
and hard to pin down lyrics. As usual. Delightfully accessible and perhaps the
best introduction to her work, Court And Spark deals on the surface with
romance in a rather hopeful way, but you'll find traces of frustation, even
lunacy, at the very moment you start scratching. Such deepness sets Joni apart
from almost everybody else, actually.
Ditto for her musical conception, closer to jazz than to rock, that forced her
to find jazz players that could make all the nuances she demanded come across
on record. In fact, this album marks the beginning of her collaboration with
the L.A. Express, a fusion ensemble that included Tom Scott, Larry Carlton and
John Guerin and would remain with her pretty much for the rest of the decade.
Also of note is that, after years of other artists scoring hits with renditions
of her songs, Joni finally got a top ten single, the wonderful "Help Me",
that flooded all the radios on the strength of its elegant melody and Zappa-esque
horns (it's the stuff from Hot Rats I'm talking about). And it isn't
even the best cut. No, that honour falls to "Car On A Hill". How she
captured the dizzy feeling of staring at an endless stream of cars in movement
with that shifting arrangement is way beyond me, but she did so, and threw a
bizarre choral break in the middle, too.
With all the attention withdrawn by the Express' stellar performances, especially
in the sympathetic vignet "Raised On Robbery", and the cast of guest
stars (José Feliciano; Crosby and Nash on backing vocals), there's very little
room for Joni's guitar playing, but her piano chops have greatly improved anyway
(title track, "Down To You", which, by the way, features a lush instrumental
part). And while the upbeat, humorous jazz standard "Twisted" is just
an excuse for her to hit some high notes at top speed, is still a nice ending
note, specially coming after such plaintive ballads as the vivid, impressionist
"Just Like This Train", and "Trouble Child". You know what?
Every single song is a highlight, even those I haven't mentioned ("Free
Man In Paris", the pretty "People's Parties", "Same Situation")
so, by all means, grab this one up.
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Funny how Joni has always stated that considers herself a
painter first, and a musician second. Here she went as far as impersonating
Van Gogh in the cover (you can take a glance at the original here).
Never mind. This album is a true come-back. The most important thing about it
is that her immaculate guitar playing is put, for once and for all, up front.
The only instrument sharing the spotlight is Wayne Shorter's soprano sax. A
bit superfluous, if you ask me. But the key is that the synths are left in the
background, merely for atmospheric purposes. And while the idea of she singing
"My Old Man" nowadays makes me cringe (she's been smoking since she was nine
years old, and it shows), these melodies cleverly conceal the fragility of her
voice. Onto the songs, then:
"Sunny Afternoon". A jazzy ballad, with a typical jazzy ballad subject: a woman
with a pistol who is just waiting to hit one damn streetlight from her window
before shots herself and puts end to her miserable life. Typical, isn't it?
Tense sax notes abound.
"Sex Kills". The most modern sounding song by far, with insistent synthesizer
strokes and aggressive electric guitar tones. The lyrics are heavy handed and
transmit an overwhelming disillusionment with, well, just about everything,
I guess. Unsettling, but worthwhile, despite the lack of coherency.
"How Do You Stop". A surprising cover, done first by James Brown, of all people,
that comes as some kind of relief after the onslaught of the previous number.
Seal's backing vocals give it a slight Adult Contemporary feel. Slight, I said.
Gotta love that bridge!
"Turbulent Indigo". Wow, that must be one of Joni's most bizarre chord progressions.
A reflection about the despised artist's struggle to bring his best to the world,
with Vang Gogh as the main character.
"Last Chance Lost". A remarkably simple love song, highlighting Joni's mastery
of the six-string. Her singing ("last chance loughghghghghghst") is also great.
"The Magdalene Laundries". Ethereal synths all over this, not too interesting,
I admit, track, telling the story of a woman confined in a religious institution.
"Not To Blame". A piano tune recalling "Court And Spark", with her signature
trick of introducing the percussion after the first verse. It's about women
battering. Headline: A famous guy drives her wife to suicide. Jackson Browne?
Don't ask.
"Borderline". Joni goes a bit philosophic here. Yet another entry on the string
of nice acoustic songs of this album.
"Yvette In English". Weird. Co-written with David Crosby, this is, together
with "The Magdalene Laundries", the only cut I'd call dull. A bit of picassian
storytelling, some fake accordion, backing vocals that pop up a bit too often
(at the end of almost every line, actually), and a hookless chorus. Blah.
"The Sire Of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song)". Astounding closer. A lengthy lament from
the biblical character, whose god makes "everything I dread and everything I
fear come true". The merciless voices he hears in his head say "God is correcting
you". How comforting. The contrasting vocals and full sounding instrumentation
are worth hearing.
So this is nothing groundbreaking but, would you please check out the release
date? It's the nineties, for Chrissake! And wait a moment. Suicide, battered
wives, environment deterioration, madness... Not exactly a shiny happy album.
Joni sounds very sad. She had just broken up with her husband, bassist Larry
Klein, who plays and co-produces here anyway. But I think there's something
deeper going on. Ok, time to shut up. I'm ranting and, then again, what do I
know about living in turbulent indigo?
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