I like listening to music. Particularly at this time of year . As the sun shines outside my window.May becomes June. It's a lovely day in Newcastle. I'm listening to For The Roses by Joni Mitchell. It's a dappled record. Lots of twists and narrative turns. Melody and a range of moods discussing the human condition. Swooping and diving but eventually coming to the surface and gulping in fresh air. One to return to.
I'm not one for comparisons and I try to .avoid them in my writing on here. I don't like to compare For The Roses with Joni's other records. I like them too. Have done since I was a teenager and my ears and heart opened to the rich resonance of life. Records were my primary educators, along with books and films. I've found with life that they only ripen.
Joni has a great way. With words. With emotions. Sometimes she's slightly elusive for my tastes.But artists have every right to protect themselves. I wouldn't compare her with Dylan or Cohen. Or Laura Nyro. Or Patti Smith. Or Miles Davis. They all have their moments. They're all pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.
The vinyl version of For The Roses has an inner sleeve. With the lyrics for the listene to consume and reflect upon on their sofasas the records spin. 'She's a mama lion' protective if her cubs. A picture of Joni in a rock. Classical illusions. Vulnerability. Strength. 'She'd sure like to see you some time...;
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