Ladies of the Canyon – Joni Mitchell

Upon the small white bed, I fell into a dream, You sat up all the night and watched me, To see, who in the world I might be.
I have never really followed the herd much, and in many respects I end up running away from it in the opposite direction. In the early 1990s, while most of my friends were listening to the music pouring out of Seattle, I could be seen wandering the streets with Joni Mitchell albums under my arm. I did this in the hope of attracting sensitive, poetical, guitar-playing Californian women, not exactly one of my best ideas. One such under arm purchase was Ladies of the Canyon.
This album is one of the few instances I can think of where side 2 of the album (yes kids we are talking vinyl here, please keep up) is much better than side 1. The first three tracks on Side 2 are immense (Rainy Night House, The Priest and Blue Boy) and, for me, show Joni at her best, intimate and personal. In fact they are so good I have just been playing them over and over again tonight.
Hidden gem; Rainy Night House
Micro review; Another album that sounds infinitely better in the rain.

Blue – Joni Mitchell

After listening to Black Sabbath yesterday I suppose it does now dawn on me that I have the most eclectic taste in the world (or maybe no taste).
I always listen to this album as a Ladies of the Canyon companion. They are like two sides of the same coin. Musically they are very hard to pigeonhole/define.
Blue is a jazz album filtered through bluegrass and folk. If that makes it sound odd, it isn’t at all. Musically it is wonderful, lyrically it is very dark and I imagine very personal. Anyone who considers themselves musically literate has to like the title track Blue, but how do you describe a track like blue with the language of journalism (blogging isn’t journalism mate, graffiti with full stops). It is impossible to convey the emotion of the track in words. The only thing I can think of is to do it in poetry.

Blue: a Response
Blue, shards of
Blue, fragments near rain
Blue, fading of promises

That will make no sense to anyone else, but it was quite satisfying actually, thank you e. e. cummings.