Joni Mitchell, or so I thought around the time I first heard of her, epitomized the sweet-and-fragile visuals of hippie-folk culture.
(With her long straight blonde hair, oh-so-slender frame and a voice to match, with her acoustic guitar and simple attire, she seemed a Mary Travers wannabe — maybe her gawky delicate second or third cousin, who admired her from a distance at family reunions and weddings.)
Sometimes her songs seemed to come out of that culture, too, especially the hits like “Both Sides Now” and “Big Yellow Taxi.” They cemented (in my mind) the image of a dreamy mystic tinged with social consciousness. I saw her in person in 1969, at the Atlantic City Pop Festival held a couple weeks before Woodstock; that restive crowd, especially in the context of her preference for small clubs, drove her from the stage in tears before she’d even finished a single song. (I vaguely remember thinking something adolescent-male shallow like, What the heck is her problem?!?) Obviously — obviously — she was way too delicate and inconsequential to have much staying power in the rough-and-tumble of rock…
Haha. Yeah, I know: what a jerk.
Eventually it sank in that her songs were complex little bundles of sound and sense, which only seemed simple if, like me, you had never really listened to them. Even when it’s just her and her guitar or piano, she interacts with her music, plays with it, responds to it — especially when she moves out of contemplative mode, relaxes, and takes up the rhythms of jazz.
Her first song which hit me that way was “You Turn Me On, I’m a Radio,” from 1972’s For the Roses. The grinning-over-her-shoulder, winking lilt fits the lyrics like a saddle. “If your head says forget it / But your heart’s still smoking”: oh, what I’d give to have written such a poised, nuanced line!
[Below, click Play button to begin You Turn Me On, I’m a Radio. While audio is playing, volume control appears at left — a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 2:39 long.]
Lyrics:
You Turn Me On, I’m a Radio
(Joni Mitchell)If you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love youOh honey you turn me on
I’m a radio
I’m a country station
I’m a little bit corny
I’m a wildwood flower
Waving for you
Broadcasting tower
Waving for youAnd I’m sending you out
This signal here
I hope you can pick it up
Loud and clear
I know you don’t like weak women
You get bored so quick
And you don’t like strong women
‘Cause they’re hip to your tricksIt’s been dirty for dirty
Down the line
But you know
I come when you whistle
When you’re loving and kindBut if you’ve got too many doubts
If there’s no good reception for me
Then tune me out, ’cause honey
Who needs the static
It hurts the head
And you wind up cracking
And the day goes dismalFrom “Breakfast Barney”
To the sign-off prayer
What a sorry face you get to wear
I’m going to tell you again now
If you’re still listening thereIf you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love youIf you’re lying on the beach
With the transistor going
Kick off the sandflies honey
The love’s still flowing
If your head says forget it
But your heart’s still smoking
Call me at the station
The lines are open
Nance says
I don’t even have to hit the play button on that one; it’s recorded permanently and plays on my heartstrings, along with everything else Joni ever put on an album.
In just a moment, lunch finished and chores done, I’m curling up on the couch with the book you gifted me with your recommendation, Girls Like Us, the triple biography of Joni, Carole King, and Carly Simon. Except for the musical talent, I was one of those girls…or tried to be. Now, half my thoughts still curl themselves around lines from Joni’s lyrics.
I’m trying to read this book so-o-o slowly because I don’t want it to end. What do I owe you, sir? How about I see your selection and raise you a “Raised On Robbery,” a song with the same curve in the corner of its lips, although slightly more pronounced.
s.o.m.e.one's brudder says
Okay, flash forward about a year from Atlantic City Pop Festival and you’ve already obtained “Deja Vu” and I’m sneaking it on the turntable, even when you’re not around just to listen to it over and over again. I’m especially fond of how they’ve gotten those guitar riffs for capturing the spirit of Yasgur’s farm sooooooo right on “Woodstock” and conclude I’ve got to read the liner notes… wait….what… Joni Mitchell wrote this? REALLY?
She never ceases to amaze me. Every LP since Court & Spark has burned through both diamond needles and laser beams for me. The closest I ever came to disappointment was “Don Juan’s Wreckless Daughter” and even that had serious turntable wear.
Jayne says
“…dreamy mystic tinged with social consciousness…” that she was. And is. I remember when I first heard her, and the feeling of being overjoyed by the pureness of her voice. And then to find out that she was/is also a talented artist, painting beautiful portraits–several of herself (including a very cool van Gogh-esque one)–and of course, the artwork for her albums and for the album jacket of CSNY’s “So Far”–which sits alongside Joni and Dylan and all of my other favorite folkies–well, that was downright inspiring.
This makes me want to get my turntable spinning again. But those old vinyls are probably a bit too warped.
Such a talented, talented woman.
whaddayamean says
sigh. that was a very short break. i was forced to play it three times :)
marta says
Well, I have a confession. No matter how much I try, I don’t like Joni Mitchell. I try to. I really do.
John says
Nance: Oh, Court and Spark — that could be the subject of a whole REAL blog post in its own right. “Raised on Robbery” an instant favorite.
So happy you’re liking Girls Like Us!
John says
brudder: I had exactly the same whiplashing light-bulb-over-the-head moment: SHE wrote “Woodstock”?!?
I have to confess that I don’t think I’ve ever listened to the Don Juan album. Judging from Wikipedia’s list of personnel — Glenn Frey! J.D. Souther! Chaka Khan! Jaco Pastorius! — maybe I should correct that.
John says
Jayne: Good stuff, the art as well as the music. (I love her Web site, btw. Among other treats, I love that she’s posted the lyrics to all her songs; completely eliminates the guesswork that normally requires you to wonder, Hmm, I wonder if these lyrics on the Web are what the songwriter really wrote? (Dylan’s site does the same thing.)
Funny, I gave up on turntables years ago. Tough decision — not least, because some albums were completely irreplaceable, to say nothing of the cost of getting all the cassettes/CDs/MP3s to replace the others. I say “funny” because last year I bought one of those LP-to-digital turntables, enabling me to give one more spin to several of the irreplaceables.
John says
whaddayamean: nobody forces anybody to do ANYTHING around these parts. :)
(And too-brief is probably a good thing anyhow.)
John says
marta: Even though I know — know — that not everyone can be expected to like Book X, Musician Y, or Whatever Z, it still feels weird to learn that the world celebrates X, Y, and Z — but that X, Y, and Z leave me cold.
Like I said above, I didn’t “get” JM for some time. Maybe the switch will go on for you at some point. the gods know, there are way more musicians to fill our days with to worry about not including someone else. :)
Jayne says
@John – John, I could spend hours on her website. She’s got a great video library, too. Now you’re going to have me poking around there all morning. ;)
John says
Jayne: ha! Always willing to help out someone who’s trying to cut down on her Web time. :)
Jayne says
@John – Well, you know, the kids are still asleep. Ha! Who am I kidding? I have to force-shut myself off–up in Maine. It’ll happen. ;)