Joni Mitchell
I did not discover Joni Mitchell until 1998. I was 24, working in a cubicle in Seattle for Amazon.com. Amazon had just added music as one of its offerings, and as employees, we could order online and have books and, now, music, delivered to our office inboxes. So I — at the recommendation of a friend — ordered Blue.
I’ve found that the mention of Blue elicits one of two responses. If the other person knows it: a meeting of the eyes, a sigh, a nod. If the person doesn’t know it, an insistence that they must, and a serious questioning of how have they been living their life so far without it.
It was only a couple of years ago that I began to explore (i.e. was ready for) some of her other work. I’ve now become a big fan of Hejira, listening the the album, and that song in particular, on repeat many many times, especially when I am creating art.
Music is an incredible magic. Joni touches my soul and leaves me both bereft and wealthy; both less alone as well as pining for the what I have been missing all along. Listening to her always moves my journey forward. There is always a song, an album, or a new recording that can suddenly bring to life something that has been lying dormant in my heart, waiting for its siren song.