FEATURE:
Sunshine After Clouds
ALL IMAGES/PHOTOS (unless credited otherwise): Getty Images
Joni Mitchell: 1970-1976
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THIS article looks at Joni Mitchell…
and her golden run of album from 1970 through to 1976. So many artists have this chunk of albums where they hit a wonderful stride; get into the groove and find hidden inspiration. I wonder whether (that run) is because of the time in their life or what is happening around them. In the case of Joni Mitchell; she was on that ‘difficult second album’ when Clouds arrived in 1969. Mitchell’s 1968 debut, Song to a Seagull, was released with little fanfare. The American songwriter was twenty-four when the record arrived and critics were not expecting much. The reviews for the album are good – nothing that compares to the wave of praise and adoration that occurred a couple of albums in. Clouds was released the year after – Mitchell showing, as she would later in her career, how prolific she was – and gained more praise. Whereas the debut contained nothing that rivals her career-best work; Clouds contains two (at least) peaches: Chelsea Morning and Both Sides, Now. Although fans consider songs like Both Sides, Now and Chelsea Morning to be among her best work; some critics back in 1969 considered those songs a little weak – other artists have done it better elsewhere. Standouts like Roses Blue and Tin Angel make the ten-track album a curious and intriguing work.
Mitchell was coming to maturity and still trying to find her voice. The subtle expressionism of the vocals and the confident songwriting was a step up from her debut. Others felt Clouds-era Joni Mitchell was a little young to be talking about disillusionment and heartache. Other female songwriters – who wrote their material and had the same confidence – would prove that myopic and odd assumption faulty. Mitchell was an innovator and portrayed an older-and-wiser tone compared to her peers. She was sprinkling humour in and showing much-improved chops and sunshine – breaking through the clouds, as it were! Even on her sophomore disc; we were getting more than commercial pomp and traditional Folk. Mitchell explored lovers and intimacy on The Gallery; The Fiddle and the Drum talked about Vietnam and warmongering; I Think I Understand spoke of mental illness – a subject that was unusual at the time (and still is in many ways). The evolution and maturation from sensual hippy to the prosodic-styled poet – as critics and commentators noted – was taking shape. That early promise, whilst not fully-formed, was to change when Ladies of the Canyon arrived in 1970. Mitchell was starting to get outside exposure so, one feels, that attention and confidence led to more risks and boundary-pushing songs. Maybe she was a little reticent and shy on her debut; exploring new ground and ideas on Clouds – one could forgive Mitchell a break after releasing two albums in as many years!
IN THIS PHOTO: Joni Mitchell at her Laurel Canyon home in October 1970/PHOTO CREDIT: Henry Diltz/Henry Diltz/CORBIS
It is amazing to see the one-album-a-year songwriter continuing to push herself and embolden her songwriting in such a short space. Many modern songwriters are lucky if they put out one album every few years; many artists leave huge gaps and it is rare to see a popular artist putting out an album every year! One cannot argue there is simplicity and a lack of complex production: Mitchell’s music, as was then and is now, is packed with colour and nuance; plenty of texture and substance – something that does not come easily and overnight. Ladies of the Canyon (1970) does not get the same billing as Blue but is an important stepping stone and point d'appui. Written for Laurel Canyon – an area popular with artists and musicians of Los Angeles in the 1960s – it is a phenomenal achievement. Maybe the confidence and critical backing gave her the impetus to be brave and open with her music. I feel her age – she was twenty-six when the album was released – played a part. She was transcending from a woman embracing the hippie scene and embarking on the sensuality of the times to a mature and inquisitive woman who was keen to look beyond the horizons of weed, free love and community. Not that Mitchell was ever a weed-toking, freedom-for-all type of artist: matters of the heart were making a bigger impression on her music.
There were still abstract impressions and vignettes of lovers and those who she had introduced in previous songs. Mitchell was reacting from critical and public feedback but was exploring the world more, literally and creatively, in terms of subject. Ideas like the weight of celebrity – obese gods sitting on wicker chairs – and its aesthetic demands were spliced alongside observations regarding the ‘Woodstock generation’. Leitmotif and candour were a stepping stone from her traditional Folk albums to what would be a more poignant and affecting cannon. Even pre-Blue; Ladies of the Canyon was unafraid to look at hard-hitting subjects and balance wit with pathos. Mitchell was taking inspiration from her friends, Crosby (David), Stills (Stephen), Nash (Graham) & Young (Neil). Their songs, renowned for their wordless vocals and dense harmonies, were making an impact on Joni Mitchell. The title-track and The Arrangement are standouts from the opening half: Big Yellow Taxi and Woodstock, her two-most-famous tracks from her career (to that point) ensured the album ended with real bang and brilliance. Mitchell was reacting to conservationism and urban planning; the perils and ennui of her generation and the lies of the U.S. Government – these were themes that spoke to her audience and were a lot more compelling the usual mainstream fodder. It seemed, after only a couple of years, Joni Mitchell was hitting her stride. Critics agreed with that assessment.
Allmusic, in a retrospective review, provided their thoughts on Ladies of the Canyon:
“Mitchell sings more clearly and expressively than on prior albums, most strikingly so on "Woodstock," her celebration of the pivotal 1960s New York rock festival. This number, given a haunting electric piano accompaniment, is sung in a gutsy, raw, soulful manner; the selection proves amply that pop music anthems don't all have to be loud production numbers”.
The ‘golden era’ for Joni Mitchell got her into the public mindset and amazed critics. The songwriter, as you would have guessed, was eager to follow up on Ladies of the Canyon’s success and get another album out there. In fine form and starting to write the material that was natural to her, Blue (1971) is regarded as her finest-ever album. I will come to the reaction and legacy of the album but, around the time period (1970), there was a lot of change happening in her life. Mitchell decided to take a break from performance – despite her success and songs like Woodstock being played on the radio constantly – and set off on a trip around Europe. With the continental air in her lungs, ideas were starting to take shape. Her travels around Formentera provided a canvas for tracks like Carey and California. Graham Nash, a sonic and vocal inspiration for Ladies of the Canyon, provided a much more direct and lyrical muse for Blue.
The two songwriters were romantic paramours from 1968-1970 and it crashed into the waves as she was relaxing by the rocks on Formentera. Nash sent Mitchell a telegram – oddly romantic and hard to conceive in this modern time – to say the relationship was over. I often feel like Blue is the film that has never been made. One can imagine these once-enraptured lovers separated by emotional distance and geographical divides. Nash was moving on with his career whilst Mitchell was about to write her finest record. Many modern songwriters, upon learning about a breakup, would not be able to discipline themselves to write anything productive and coherent. Mitchell, instead, injected suggestions and embers of the relationship into songs like My Old Man and River. I feel the resurgence/creative shift can be explained by the role relationships, broken and good, played. James Taylor, another sweetheart of Mitchell, provided influence and respite. Transitioning from a bad breakup from Graham Nash and leaping into an intense bond with James Taylor; we can see Blue as an album of two halves. There is the nostalgia of a former love and having to adapt to life in a new milieu: balance that against the rush of fresh love and flowers blooming once more. This Flight Tonight, Blue and All I Want reference the relationship with Taylor at the time.
Blue was formulating and brewing in January of 1971; the two lovers very much as-one and, in Mitchell’s mind, destined for old age and marriage. Taylor’s mounting fame meant friction came into the relationship by March. When they broke up, a devastated Mitchell had new inspiration and, once more, had to adapt to life alone. At the time, Mitchell had personal defences and was writing in a more distant and less evocative manner. Blue is her at her most overt and the artist being unveiled and stripped naked. There was nowhere to hide and, as such, her material reflected all the pains and pleasures happening at the time. Mitchell was employing new chord sequences and alternate tunings; the rawness and revelations in the album shocked many – some felt she would not be able to follow that milestone! Critics now consider the album to be one of the finest from all of music: back then, there was amazement that such a young and relatively new artist could create something so sublime and personal. Rolling Stone, reviewing the album in 2003, had this to say:
“…And yet, despite the title song. Blue is overall the freest, brightest, most cheerfully rhythmic album Joni has yet released. But the change in mood does not mean that Joni's commitment to her own very personal naturalistic style has diminished. More than ever, Joni risks using details that might be construed as trivial in order to paint a vivid self portrait. She refuses to mask her real face behind imagery, as her fellow autobiographers James Taylor and Cat Stevens sometimes do.
In portraying herself so starkly, she has risked the ridiculous to achieve the sublime. The results though are seldom ridiculous; on Blue she has matched her popular music skills with the purity and honesty of what was once called folk music and through the blend she has given us some of the most beautiful moments in recent popular music”.
It would be understandable to think Mitchell would take a couple of years off to mend her heart and find some space. She was, as she admitted, in a new stage of life and unable to hide her scars. As a result, For the Roses was released in 1972. Court and Spark was released two years later – showing how prolific and determined Mitchell was. I prefer the sounds and range of Court and Spark. For the Roses looked at the breakup with James Taylor formed the basis for some songs but, at this point, Mitchell was adapting to life as a solo artist – in every sense – and finding fresh inspiration. The best-known song from the album, You Turn Me On, I’m a Radio, was a response to the record company’s need for a ‘radio-friendly hit’. Ironically, the song became a big hit and made a big impression on the charts! In any case, Mitchell was keen to leave herself in the open and be as connected to the listener as possible. Never a writer to hide behind pillows and metaphor; commentators noted how For the Roses brought the listener into the record and made them feel like they were less alone. Mitchell, perhaps less keen to stick to formula and expectation, was exploring new genres and patterns. Cold Blue Steel and Sweet Fire is a look at heroin addiction with Jazz semblance; Judgment of the Moon and Stars hints to Beethoven – much more than one might expect from an artist (still) being labelled ‘Folk’. Many noted the vocal phrasing and acting – bringing personality and filmic characterisation rather than merely singing songs – was beyond compare; the way she could elongate and emphasis single words…all of this impressed critics and made her music so special.
Court and Spark, whilst placed second – in the minds of most critics and fans – to Blue, remains her most commercial-successful work. It reached number-two in the U.S. and number-one in Canada; it was a top-twenty success in the U.K. and topped many critics’ end-of-year polls. Again, unlike many modern stars and peers back in the 1970s; Joni Mitchell did not find commercial success and popularity to be a negative thing. Rather than conform and provide something more akin to what was out in the world; Mitchell actually took a little time to record Court and Spark (1973 was the first year since 1968 where she had not put an album out) and was concentrating more on the material. Performances were scarcer and Mitchell was investigating and studying Jazz. Again, she was doing things her own way and keen to create an album that was truly hers but did not repeat what went before. Whereas touring might have given her the audience reaction to make an uplifted and open album; her focused writing and new-found obsession with Jazz saw a different L.P. enter the market. SLANT, when reviewing Court and Spark in 2004, paid tributes to its spirit and identity:
“…Mitchell is, with Court and Spark, represented at the peak of her talents for crafting song-stories that are simultaneously inventive, intricate, and unfailingly melodic. And while many of today’s artists have exhibited shades of such talent, not many—of either gender—have been able to match such a dizzying height. Thus, also taking into consideration its mid-‘70s California dreaminess, Court and Spark is not only the best soundtrack to a Sunday morning ever made, it’s also an essential, timeless artifact of an era when pop could be both popular and personal, and would be rewarded critically and commercially for such qualities”.
IN THIS PHOTO: Joni Mitchell in 1975/PHOTO CREDIT: Norman Seeff
The Hissing of Summer Lawns (1975) does not have the same reaction as Court and Spark but shows new inventions and wonder. Mitchell remained in inspired mode and was taking her pen in new directions. In France They Kiss on Main Street, a Jazz-Rock song about coming of age in small-town 1950s, uses Rock ‘n’ Roll as a frame; The Jungle Line uses field recordings from Africa of the Drummers of Burundi; Edith and the Kingpin is Jazz-fused and paints a picture of a gangster’s new moll arriving in his hometown. Mitchell, at this point, was bringing in stream-of-consciousness and lyrics that looked at patriarchy and women stand up to male dominance. The album looks at female stereotypes – whether modern-day moulds or the southern belle discussed in Shades of Scarlett Conquering – and the role they play in life and the home. The Hissing of the Summer Lawns’ title cut is about a woman seen as an extension of her husband’s portfolio; The Boho Dance talks of commercial compromise and surrender; Sweet Bird is a more confessional track that harks back to Mitchell’s earliest days. Some critics felt the record betrayed Mitchell’s romantic outlook and nature; it was a distinct shift and a departure from what she does best. Retrospective reviews have shown how good the album is and the bravery of the subject matter.
Pitchfork, when looking at the record in 2012, assessed how audiences and critics perceived Mitchell:
“Mitchell had never made a record that wasn't bigger than the one before and was shocked that her fans and many critics saw her new sound as an abandonment and misguided move, respectively. Reviewers chastised her for her ego. While the album went gold and brought her a Grammy nod, as her 1974 live album Miles of Aislesattests (a wonky fiasco, skip it) there were still plenty of people shouting for "Big Yellow Taxi". But that Joni didn't live here anymore. Hissing was proof. The era of Mitchell doing no wrong was over and if her audience couldn't hang, she wasn't about to do anything to reel them back in”.
If there were some shaky comments; there was still plenty of genius and brilliance to be found in the record. I feel, mind, that Joni Mitchell’s diamond regency was slightly less-gleaming by 1976. Many consider Hejira to be the last of her early-career gold. The lyrics (on the album) are denser and the songs sprawl and stretch. Jazz was playing a bigger role and travels were affecting her songwriting. The album was written during three journeys she took in late-1975/early-1976. Mitchell was going through a fractured relationship and using cocaine regularly.
Whilst songs like Coyote and Song for Sharon prove Mitchell had lost none of her spark; reviewers were noting new sides to her work:
“But if Mitchell is not always inviting, she is never complacent. With Hejira she redefines the elements of her music with as much courage as when she scrutinizes her aims and motivations. And despite the songs of love lost and plans changed, despite the urgent, often stark consciousness of mortality and the absence of comfortable solutions, Hejira is a curiously optimistic album. In “Black Crow,” Mitchell sings, “In search of love and music/ My whole life has been/ Illumination/ Corruption/ And diving, diving, diving, diving…,” her voice swooping and spiraling on the repeated word. That is what Hejira is about: it is not the answers that are most important but the search itself”.
Maybe Hejira, the transliteration from the Arabic word ‘hijira’ (journey) proved to be an important album in the sense it was Mitchell embarking down a more Jazz-orientated road; there was still the flecks and brilliance that was evident on a work like Clouds. Unlike that record, Hejira is a more complete and solid work and, despite addiction and cancelled tour, it stands the test of time. It ends a glorious run of albums that put Joni Mitchell in the mainstream and marked her as the finest songwriter in the world.
Joni Mitchell, today, is still seen in public but has not recorded an album 2007’s Shine (her nineteenth). She suffered a brain aneurysm in 2015 and has fought her way back to health. I am not sure whether we will see another album from the seventy-four-year-old songwriter. If we do not, then we have seen more than enough brilliance from her to mark down in the history books. I wanted to look at the period between 1970-1976 because it upped her game and brought her music to another level. 1969’s Clouds was a brilliant hint at what was to follow; Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter gained mixed reviews in 1977 and ended a brilliant collection of records. We have seen other brilliant albums from her since then (including 1994’s Turbulent Indigo) but she had never hit the giddy heights of that early period…I doubt whether any other songwriter has or will we see anything like it. There are other bands/artists that have distinct periods where they can do no wrong: maybe a faultless run of albums that can be attributed to commercial success, personal circumstances and newfound creative outlets. In the case of Joni Mitchell; she moved from a slightly reserved songwriter to someone willing to reflect the pains of relationships and depression alongside fictional motifs and impressionistic sketches.
PHOTO CREDIT: New York Magazine
Her songwriting, during that time, explored politics and gender issues; politics and corruption – she also looked at her generation and her role in society. The boost she got from great reviews and certain inspirations – lovers and close associates – created that explosion and led to a purple patch. I feel the six-or-so years where Joni Mitchell ruled music should act as an example to all songwriters regarding form, inspiration and evolution. Mitchell was not expected to create the albums she did follow Clouds – many felt she was promising but could not predict where she was headed. However you explain that golden era – maybe maturity and greater confidence played their part – you cannot argue it is a fascinating and beautiful time. The fact she barely dropped a step over the course of those six albums is amazing. It is something you only really see from the real legends of music – The Beatles and Bob Dylan among them. Their story is for another day. For now, I wanted to put Joni Mitchel under the spotlight and focus on a songwriter who still makes a huge impression on artists. She has released many wonderful and enduring albums but, for my money, she was at her very finest…
BETWEEN 1970 and 1976.