JoniMitchell_LoveFac..

Transcription

This work is dedicated to Jean Grande Maître and the Alberta Ballet.
* * *
I walked into the green room at the Grammys. It was packed with people but it
was quiet — weirdly quiet — like a library. Blacks sat on one side — looking like
some kind of team in their oversized T-shirts and their baggy pants. Whites sat on
the other — nondescript — mixed genders — like a Saturday afternoon shoppingmall crowd.
Suddenly, the back door flew open and a chubby brown-skinned girl with bleach
blonde hair shouted, “Girl! You make me see pictures in my head. You come here
and give me a hug.” I laughed. I moved towards her with my arms outstretched.
We met in the middle and hugged and giggled and did a little dance. Then she
turned and left. She was a makeup girl and had work to do.
The rappers were looking at me. I nodded. They gestured for me to sit down. I did.
The room filled up with conversation. The apartheid lifted.
I am a painter who writes songs. My songs are very visual. The words create
scenes — in cafes and bars — in drab little rooms — on moonlit shores — in
kitchens — in hospitals and on fairgrounds. They take place in vehicles — planes
and trains and cars.
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What I have done here is to gather some of these scenes (like a documentary
braids. It was tied on under his chin with a black string. It was tied in a bow like a
filmmaker) and by juxtaposition, edit them into a whole new work. It was a daunting
bonnet. “A bald Indian?” I thought, “I never saw a bald Indian before.” Years later, I
task to distill all that I have written about love and the lack of it — at least four
was informed by a Lakota Sioux that Iron eyes was a Sicilian.
times this much material — down to this length. I tried to reduce it to one disc for a
ballet. I tried for a year and half but no matter what songs I chose — no matter what
sequences I put them in — all I had was a mere collection. At this length, four discs,
themes and ideas have time to develop — to augment and contrast — to interact with
We shook hands. “Do you know any Indian songs?” I asked him. “Sure,” he said, and
performer that he was, he tipped back his head and sang the little song that Lakota
opens with. “What are you doing right now?” I asked him. “Well, I was supposed to
each other in a whole new way.
go to dinner with some people . . . .” “Could you come with me to a recording studio
Quartets are nothing new in literature, but for today’s abbreviated minds, this could
said. That made me laugh. “Yes,” I said, “Exactly!” “O.K.,” he said.
— it’s near here. Could you put that down on tape?” “You want me to overdub?” he
be a challenge. I recommend that you who are impaired in this way, try to take
the trip anyway. Try to notice how the end of one song leads into the next. Try to
notice the magnificence of the musical participants. Try to follow the flow of ideas or
perspectives contained in the writing. Try to see “the pictures in your head.”
Like a filmmaker, I cast people in my songs. I cast Billy Idol as the bully in DANCING
CLOWN. I cast Tom Petty as the guy he picks on — the “pushbutton window.” I cast
Willie Nelson as the desert rat in COOL WATER — Rod Steiger as the evangelist in
TAX FREE. I cast Iron Eyes Cody as the “grandfather” in I AM LAKOTA.
So I came back to the studio with three Indians (well, two Mazatecs and a Sicilian)
and a film crew. I was half an hour late, but the machine was still frozen. We sat and
waited. When it was finally fixed I played the track for Iron Eyes who said, when it
was over, “Oh — it’s got the haunting. I think you’re turning Indian.”
Into the studio he went. He “overdubbed” like the pro he was. It was just what the
piece needed.
We were relaxing now. The track was finished. Iron Eyes was telling John Wayne
Let me tell you how Iron Eyes came to be on the record.
stories — tales of how John could hold his liquor. Suddenly it began to thunder and
There was a show of Indian artifacts at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium — near
we watched, a ball o fire appeared on the lines leading into the studio. It was sliding
where I was recording. We (Mike Shipley, Larry Klein and I) were working on I AM
towards us. I ran inside and told the boys about it. They pulled the tape off the heads
LAKOTA. It was almost finished but I felt like it was lacking something. “Let’s take a
in case the lightening sent the machine into record. I didn’t see it hit but it made the
break,” I said. “I want to go to that show at the Civic. I won’t be long.” It was a little
lights flicker. No damage was done and the storm moved on. It only struck Santa
after 5:00. The doors had just opened. “Joan, Joan,” Klein said. “This isn’t like you —
Monica — nowhere else in L.A. Strange. Beautiful. Ball lightening.
leaving in the middle of a session.” I said, “Well, we’re not doing anything important
— you can spare me for an hour. They’ve got some rare old stuff over there. Federico
told me. Hummingbird baskets, for instance — things you never get a chance to see!”
Klein didn’t like it. “Come on,” I said, “Take a little break.” The track was running.
Suddenly, the machine seized up. “Oh,” I said grinning. “Downtime. Call in the tech!
I’ll be back in an hour.”
rain — hard. Iron Eyes and I went out on the back steps to watch it come down. As
I create back-flashes in my songs by cutting old songs into them. HARRY’S HOUSE
is one example. I cut in CENTERPIECE like a film edit — to illustrate the heart of the
broken dream — the white picket-fence dream. I did it again in CHINESE CAFÉ —
adding quotes from UNCHAINED MELODY to refer back in time.
I foley like a filmmaker. I use ambient sounds in my songs. A cricket flew into the Kiva,
As I came through the doors I was met by a film crew. “Why are you here?” said a
cyclops — a women behind a lens. “To see the show,” I said. “I only have an hour.”
I tried to shake her, but she stuck to me like a paparazzi. “Have you met Iron Eyes
Cody? she pestered. “Who’s he?” “You don’t know Iron Eyes? Cry Indian?” “Oh, the
ecology commercial.” “Would you like to meet him?” “I guess so, but I don’t have
much time.” She disappeared. I looked at some baskets. I looked at some pots. A little
while later she returned with old Iron Eyes. He was wearing a grey wig — long grey
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our home studio — mine and Klein’s. We sampled him. I made him the drummer on
NIGHT RIDE HOME.
Speaking of drummers — I tried out two great drummers over in England — to play
on NUMBER ONE — but neither one of them could swing. They had missed that
era. So, for the first time, I programmed the drums. I heard in my head a long liquid
brush stroke. I was working in Peter Gabriel’s old studio. There was nothing among
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his samples like that. Then, one night, as the session was winding down and we
I went into the bar. Tim was on stage. He saw me come in and he sang to me,
were rewinding the master tapes, I heard it — the sound I wanted. It was the sound
“Hello Joni,” like “Hello Dolly.” I sang back, “Hello Timmy.” He sang, “What are
of the tape flipping at the end of the reel before it came to rest. We sampled it. It
drinking Joni?” I sang, “One white wine.” He sang to the bartender, “”one white
was perfect. Years later, in Rome, a man chased after the car I was riding in and he
wine.” Shyly, the bartender mumble-sang, “One white wine.” The room giggled.
shouted to me, “Joni! The rythmico on NUMBER ONE is fantastico.” Thanks.
When Tim’s set was over, we went up some stairs and down a long hall. Tim was
We recorded THE WOLF THAT LIVES IN LINDSAY as a demo (the song was brand
very playful. While we walked we were playing “the fisherman and the fish.” I
new). I didn’t have my guitar with me so Studio Instrument Rentals sent over this beat
was a big sports fish — like a marlin. I was leaping into the air. He would reel me
up D18. One fret was sticking up and when I put it into my tuning, it buzzed like
in so I would run backwards, then race ahead and leap again. We did this all the
rattlesnake. I loved it. It was ominous. It suited the theatre of the song. We only did
way to the room of the drunk in the red jacket.
one take and at the end I got so engrossed in making the guitar buzz that I lost the
bar structure, but Don Alias hung in there with me. When we heard it back I decided
that the eccentricity near the end didn’t matter. It seemed to make it even more savage
When we came in he was rummaging through a box of homemade tapes. There
were a few people there. The music was blaring. He kept picking up tapes, looking
— mutilated bar structure — like a pack of wolves stomping around — nervously.
at them, and putting them down. He heaved a sigh and starred up at us. He said,
I was headed up to San Francisco that weekend to play in a festival. I told Henry,
all African animals — hyenas, elephants, lions — no wolves. I said, “I don’t need
“While I’m gone, look for a tape of some wolves.” He said he would.
this — I need wolves.” “Well, take it anyway,” he said. I looked at the list again
All the artists in the festival were staying at a big old hotel in Berkeley. As I was
checking in I heard someone passing by say that Tim Hardin was there. Tim and I
were old friends. I asked the desk clerk for his room number so I could call him up
and say hello. The man was very irritable. He said, “Can’t you see I’m busy?” and he
“I can’t find it, but here, take this.” I looked at the tape he had handed me. It was
and there it was at the very bottom — wolves. I was so excited. I said goodnight
to him and to Tim and rushed down to my room. I put it on my tape machine. I
twiddled my guitar into the “Wolf” tuning, queued up the wolves, and began to
play. The way they fell against the chords was thrilling to me. Synchronicity!
launched into a tirade of poor beleaguered me. “O.K., O.K.,” I said. “I’ll wait till you
The next night I closed my set with “Wolf.” Back stage, I had the tape queued up
you’re unbusy.” I leaned against the check-in window and looked out at the enormous
and I told my guitar tech, “When I get to this place in the music, hit play.” We had
lobby. Just then the bar room door swung open and out staggered a guy dressed like
it miked so it would come over the speakers. At the end of the song, people were
James Dean in “Rebel Without a Cause” — red cotton jacket — white T-shirt — blue
stunned. They didn’t seem to know how to respond. There was a smattering of
jeans. He was singing “Why do fools fall in love” at the top of his drunken lungs. I
applause. I left the stage. It was then that they began to howl. Louder and louder
was killing time so I sauntered over to him in the middle of the lobby and joined in.
they howled. They howled me back for an encore.
Now we’re both singing when around the corner came this black do-wop group —
the Persuasions — and they joined in. It sounded so good that I started it over from
the top and at the end, we all exploded into laughter. When that subsided, I turned
to the uptight clerk and I asked for Tim’s room number again. “You lookin for Tim
Hardin?” said the drunk in the red jacket. “Yes,” I said. “He’s in the bar — he’s on
stage — singing.” “Thanks,” I said and started across the lobby. “Come up to my
room,” the drunk called after me. “Both of you,” he called. “O.K. maybe,” I called
back. “I’ve got a tape of some wolves,” he shouted. I stopped in my tracks and turned
around. “You do?” I said. “I need a tape of some wolves.” “Come up,” he said and
he called out his room number.
The next week, back in the studio, we put the wolves on the track and added
water gongs.
I couldn’t work with a producer. I found that out early. They were tyrannical and
trendy. They would have squelched my need for risk and invention. They would
have straightened out all the quirks and oddities and steered me towards the dog
race where the bigger profits were. I didn’t want to think about music in terms of
winning or losing. Music is not a sport. If I had to race, I wanted to be the rabbit.
I had a painter’s ego — I took pride in discovering new things. I had a painter’s
ability to self-adjudicate.
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For 14 albums, I worked with Henry Lewy or an eight-track machine made from
dead and they wouldn’t change them. The drummers had a pillow in their kick drum
salvage parts from World War II bombers. Just Henry and me in Studio C.
and they wouldn’t take it out. The snare was tight and tubby and they wouldn’t slack
Henry once had a radio show called “Helpful Henry The Housewife’s Delight.” He
truly was a delightful man and immensely helpful. He had later become a jazz D.J.
He had the perfect voice for that — moderately low and velvety. He was gentle and
warm and encouraging — no power plays — no technological tyranny — no friction.
He truly enjoyed my crazy ideas.
it. The bass and drums buddied up and polka-dotted along the bottom, ignoring what
my voice was doing or my accompaniment. They missed the rhythmic nuances and
left no spaces. They seemed separate and arbitrary. When I tried to assist them, they
rebelled, “I’m not playing that — that’s not the root of the chord,” or they ran their
credentials, “I played with James Brown and you’re trying to tell me how to play my
ax.” Years later, when synthesizers became user-friendly, I was able to be my own
In the studio one night, I ran out of smokes. There was a dispenser in the parking lot.
I put in my change and pressed the button for my brand. A little square lit up. It said,
“Empty Try Another.” I pressed a second choice. Empty. Third choice — empty. Fourth
choice — Kools (yuck). Then I noticed the sound of the gears that push the package
out. I ran into the studio. “Henry,” I said. “Get a long extension cord and a good
mike. There’s something I want to record.” We ran a cord down the hall and into the
rhythm section (HANNA, NO APOLOGIES, NUMBER ONE, HERE’S TO YOU, for
example), but at this time I had a fight on my hands. After they left I’d take them off
— perpetuating the notion that I was a folksinger.
When Russ Kunkel, a drummer who worked well for James Taylor, said to me, “Joni —
you’re going to have to work with jazz musicians,” I began my search.
parking lot. We stuck a mike up in the slot where the smokes come out and Henry
I found a band — The L.A. Express — that was full of talent. The leader, Tom Scott,
recorded me playing that cigarette machine. The groove went like this — “chinko gua
was someone I had worked with before. He was very versatile. He played sax and
godook — oooh — chinko gua godook — oooh.” You hear the coins drop in at the
woodwinds. Lots of colors! The guitar player, Larry Carlton, had a fresh and distinctive
beginning and drop down at the end. I overdubbed a cough on the 4-beat of each
style. He liked to fly-fish and sometimes what he played sounded like that — lines
bar. Henry was delighted. No producer would have encouraged that.
arcing — spinning out and splashing. The bass player, Max Bennett, was great, too.
Henry took care of the E.Q. (sonic spices) which he used sparingly. He chose the
mikes and placed them — which he did expertly. He engineered and I created — no
role confusion — a painter and a printmaker. Perfect.
In the mixes, I took care of the proportions and the placement of sounds on the
speakers — which I moved around sometimes — like the Doppler horns passing right
to left and left to right on CAR ON A HILL.
For years, Henry and I made my records in this manner. I would call him up when I
had a batch of new songs and I’d say, “Let’s go in and make some demos.” But there
never were any demos because once I laid it down and it was satisfactory, I would
begin to hear the choral parts on top. I grew up listening to the Andrews Sisters and
the McGuire Sisters, so I would go in and add the “Mitchell Sisters.”
Now we had the nucleus of a record — voice and guitar — voice and piano or voice
and dulcimer — with vocal arrangements on top. That done, I craved patterns on
the bottom. The groove was already there — so what I wanted was a drummer who
locked up to me and a bass player who punctuated the bottom — playing figures —
leaving space. But that’s not how they played. At that time, bass player’s strings were
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Although he had that “come in and stay in approach” (I still had my own ideas of
what the bass should do), he was tasteful and solid so I didn’t attempt to guide him. It
was the drummer, though, that I was most impressed with.
We all crowded into little Studio C and together we made a very innovative “pop”
record. I told Henry, “Set me up facing the drummer.” John Guerin wrote out a chart
of what I was playing and for the first time a drummer locked up to me and flowed
through the figurative eccentricities like water over rocks. I fell in love with him and
we moved in together.
In an interview given by Malka Marom, John had this to say — “Joni’s writing and her
lyrics and her structures are original. I’ve never heard anyone else do it quite like that.
There was a piece we worked on — it’s in 4/4 time and out of the blue there comes
some odd time signatures, like 5/8 and 4/8. So, in order to play the tune, musicians
have to have knowledge of those signatures. If musicians keep on top of it — and if
they’re good — then they can put it right into the feeling without it sounding stilted.
You have to be a very good musician to play her tunes.”
One night, Harry Nilsson and John Lennon (who was having a prolonged lost
weekend) dropped into Studio C and I played them a couple of tracks. John jumped
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up off the coach and said, “Oh it’s all a product of over-education! You want a hit
shit for? You’re work is more progressive.” That was the encouragement I needed.
don’t you? Put some fiddles on it! Why do you always let other people have your hits
I called a session with the players I wanted — my favorites from Miles’ bands —
for you?”
Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter plus some young blood — Peter Erskine and of
When the album was finished, I played it for Geffen and Bob Dylan and Bob’s
buddy, Louie Kemp, who brought a girl with him. Bob had just completed an album
(PLANET WAVES) — not one of his best. We played it first and everyone was very
effusive. Then I played COURT AND SPARK. I was so proud of it — my first band!
Bob pretended to fall asleep and when the last note faded out, Geffen nodded feebly.
Louie said nothing. As they continued to comment on Bob’s work, Louie’s girl came
over to me. “Why are they doing this to you?” she said. “I don’t know,” I said, “I think
I’m Jackie Robinson.”
course, Jaco. I told them, “Everything I’ve cut sounds like a track with a singer —
you could take me off and put someone else on — it wouldn’t disturb a thing. I want
us to be all woven together like colored threads into a tapestry. I don’t want the
bass and drums locking up like on a track — except on the bridges — the bridges
need to groove. The key to this is the words are the leader. There is space between
them for individual commentary — stretch out there — but when the words are in
— support them.”
You have to understand that in jazz circles at that time, the girl singer was called
Years later, when John Guerin and I split up, I was back to searching for a good
rhythm section. The players I tried just couldn’t cut it — back to the old rebellion, “I’m
not playing that! That’s not the root of the chord!” I said, “Well, it will be when you
play it.” The rebel said, “There’s this really weird bass-player in Florida. He plays with
Bob Hope and Phyllis Diller. He’s really weird. You’d probably like him. He hardly
ever plays the root of the chord.” That said, I sent for Jaco.
Jaco was doing everything I was craving — and then some. He’d play little melodic
quotes — Stravinsky, Jimi Hendrix. He left space. He ran harmonics, and where it
was needed, he grooved. I was thrilled but he was hard to handle. He’d go up to the
board and crank himself up until I became his back up singer. Ironically, he was the
one who said I needed to take more control of my sessions. I was in control. If a player
contributed something, I left him on. If he didn’t, I took him off. Simple.
There were many sessions for the Mingus project. At first, Charles picked the players.
On one date, it was Tony Williams on drums, Don Alias on congas, John McLaughlin
on guitar, and Jaco on bass. Jaco was showing off. He was up on John’s ear —
pestering him with some self-indulgent sonic nuances. John looked cornered. Tony
looked insecure. Alias and I were shaking our heads and laughing. So I announced,
“O.K. Watch this! I’m going to take control of my session.” “Jaco,” I said. Deaf ears. I
moved closer. “Jaco,” I said again. Nothing. I went right up to his ear. Again, “Jaco!”
No response. I threw my hands up into the air and laughed. What can you do with a
creature like that? That session was a bust.
I cut the songs that Charles wrote on the Mingus album with a lot of different bands —
bands of his choosing. Although the level of virtuosity was high, the level of invention
was low. It sounded like Bradley’s (a bass and piano jazz bar in New York). Again, it
was “meat and potatoes” jazz. Jaco said to me, “What are you playing that tired old
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“the chirp.” She was decorative, sometimes necessary, but not a real jazzer — not a
spontaneous composer. A lot of derogatory jokes snickered through jazz sessions —
like drummer jokes do in rock ‘n’ roll. Like Tom Scott saying, “If she asked us to play
‘yellow’ we’d play it.” I would never call out a color to be played. I don’t think that
way — patternistic instruction — metaphorical instruction — illustrative instruction
— yes. Laura Nyro asked a band to play “a little more purple.” Jazzers snickered
at that from coast to coast.
As a result of this prejudice against singers, most players never listed to the words.
Years later, when Herbie recorded THE JONI LETTERS, someone, probably Klein,
forced him to listed to the words. “Is that what she’s singing? He said. We had
played together for years. John Guerin, in an interview with Malka Marom, said
this — “Words are something that Joni brought to my attention. When we started
working on her album — the words are so important and they need shading — high
and lows and louds and softs. There are multi feels in this music, and those different
feels dictate different ways of playing. A lot of that is dictated by the words. Its an
interesting enlightenment, so to speak. Well, I mean, for me — as a drummer. I’m
not lyric oriented.”
When we cut SWEET SUCKER DANCE, although they grasped the concept (and this
was the one and only take, I think), it starts off very tentatively — unsure — but then
it takes off. This uncertainty at the beginning plays well against the theatre of the
first verse which is saying, “Tonight it’s a dance of insecurity.” I said to them, “That’s
it.” Their faces said, “Really — that’s it?” Years later, one by one, they came to me
and said, basically, “Do you believe that shit we played?” It was very innovative.
Mingus didn’t dig it. He was an acoustic man. Electric bass, electric piano — he
was as down on them as Pete Seeger was down on Dylan when he went electric.
Charlie had another problem. He said, “You’re singing the wrong note!” I had
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changed one note in one place — going into the bridge. I said, “Well, your note is
sent out for a bottle of tequila to loosen him up. Next thing I knew, he was lying on
kind of wistful — a blue note. Mine is optimistic — it helps the words. They both lead
the floor by the mike — the bottle nearly drained and he was saying, “I can’t do it
— into the bridge.” He said, “You’re singing a square note!” I said, “Well, Charles,
Joan.” His wife and I and his two daughters kneeled beside saying, “Yes you can. Yes
that note’s been square so long it’s hip again!” He said, “O.K. motherfucker — you
you can.” After much coaxing, he was on his feet and the lines were on the song —
sing your note and my note and you throw in a grace note for God!” I scooped up to
shadowing the sung words! What a night.
it, but neither note was his “hip” note. I left it the way it was.
If you hire the right people and they like the music, you don’t have to be controlling.
On DON JUAN’S RECKLESS DAUGHTER, the previous album, I gave Jaco some
They listen to what is already on the track and they make their contributions — that’s
instruction (the one and only time) and he took it without resistance.
all — they just play. Greg Leisz is like that. He always plays great. He lowers his head
The title song is a long song — around six minutes long. My guitar has a rhythmic
drive to it, and Jaco and Alex Acuña (the drummer on the date) had locked up
together and were pushing it along with a Latin feel. It made the song seem even
longer. I decided to break them up and put them on one at a time.
I told Jaco, “This is a kind of surrealistic tune — a lot of Scorpio metaphors and
Yagui Indian mysticism. It needs a tom-tom feel — but not 4 on the floor.” It needed a
repetitive figure with space between figures to kind of half-time it against the drive of
and plays with such reverence. Pedal steel is a great color for my music. It seems to fit
so well with slack key. There’s a peace and a joy to it — a sensuality that I love about
Hawaiian music which used to be pedal steel and slack key.
Some men are just uncontrollable — like Rod Steiger who plays Jimmy Swaggart on
TAX FREE. Steiger could do a generic southern accent but I really wanted a mimic
— someone who could do Jimmy Swaggart, whose sermon we were reenacting. My
first choice was Robert Duvall but he was busy on an evangelical movie of his own.
the guitar — something like . . . (and I sang a part to him, making sliding gestures with
Steiger was in the studio and blew a line. It was supposed to be, “Our nation has
my right arm), “Ga-ga-ga-goom, ga-ga-ga-goom.” Jaco cradled the neck of his bass in
lost its guts. Our nation has lost its strength and whimpered and cried and pandered
his left hand. He tuned the strings to an open chord and he played the figures without
to the Khomeinis and Gaddafis for so long.” Instead of pandered, Steiger says what
any fretting. He banged the strings at the top of the neck with his fist and he slid to
sounds like “petted the Khomeinis.” I went into the room to feed him the right words.
the bottom for the “goom.” Halfway through the take, his hand was shredded like he
He screamed at the control booth, “Get this women out of here!” So, it’s wrong on
had run it over a carrot grater. We stopped tape, punched him in, and he finished
the record. He had requested, for payment, a case of very rare and expensive red
the song playing with the heel of his hand. At the end of the song it was shredded,
wine. We had a hell of a time putting it together but we did it. He was at the playback
too. We wrapped his hand in a paper towel and played back the track. When the
party and got to hear his scene in context. When the album had played down, I
song was over, he turned to me and said, “That should’ve been on my album!” I said,
approached him to inform him that his case of wine was collected and he could take
“Who cares whose album it’s on? It’s you and it’s on tape.”
it home with him. He must have respected the album because suddenly, he was very
Then it was Alex’s turn. I had the notion that he should jingle and thump — that powwow sound. I had some native ankle bells — big harness bells on leather straps. We
humble — hang dog even. He hung his head and muttered something to the effect that
he didn’t need it. I said, “No, you earned it. Take it home with you.”
tied them on him. We placed a baffle on the floor. It was slightly curved. Henry put a
Some of my songs just bug people. They hate them, even. MOON AT THE WINDOW
mike under it and one beside it and Alex danced a Peruvian salsa to the track. I loved
was one. Sarah Vaughan said, “That’s a strange form.” I said, “Well, it’s got an
it — jingle and thump. It blended into the guitars in an unusual way. It was a bent-knee
intro — like some old standards, that sets it up and never comes back, but then its just
dance and when the song was over, he limped off the baffle. He couldn’t straighten
verse, verse, bridge, verse — A B B C B — pretty simple.” She was not convinced.
up for an hour, but he agreed it sounded great.
I hired a vibes player to play on it. During his performance, I noticed a tightness
There was one more casualty on this record date — “the split-tongued spirit.” Boyd
in his face — a discomfort. He was a family man — happily married, I believe. At
Elder, a painter from Texas possessing Cherokee blood and a native sounding voice,
the end of the take, I went into the studio to find out what was bugging him — the
was to double my voice with spoken word. He stepped up to the mike and froze. We
headphones? The Words? “I hate the music,” he said. “You hate it? Why?” “It’s just
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wrong,” he said emphatically, and he left. Later I found out that he had written a book
my favorite bits from eight or ten performances and edit them together. It’s like
defining jazz harmony and my harmony must have been too far outside this box of his
working with Marlon Brando or Jack Nicholson when they improvise — every
making for his comfort. I guess it is a rogue composition — a musical outlaw.
take is different. They play with their environment — aware of and responding
Wayne Shorter found the harmony on one of my songs strange, too. I played him
the track and he said, “Well, what are these chords? These are not guitar chords —
these are not piano chords. What are these chords?” Here we go again — Joni’s
weird chords. But he didn’t get uptight. He went out and played like a champ. When
to the details in it. They give great choices. When Wayne plays an illustration,
though, I always take it. Listen to him playing “high heels clicking” on YVETTE
IN ENGLISH. Listen to him play childlike — then darker — more ominous — on
LOVE in the verse, “As a child I spoke like a child . . . .”
he came back into the control booth, he said to me, “Well, well, they taught us at
For years I wondered if he liked what I did with what he gave me. One night,
Berkeley School of Music not to stay on a sus chord too long and never to go from a
at the end of our session, as he was heading for the door, he stopped and
sus chord to a sus chord.” Wayne was so free on his horn — I never thought of him
turned to me and said, “O.K. Sculpt.” I had my answer.
adhering to a musical legal system. His definition of jazz was freedom.
In the process of selecting this music — reacquainting myself with it — I
Being a self-taught musician, I called sus chords, chords of inquiry. They depicted
was struck, sometimes, by the loveliness of it — the love in it. Not smitten
complex emotions. They had questions in them. My whole life was full of questions.
“pheromones in the receptors” kind of love but love like listening to one another
Will I survive this disease? Will I ever walk again? Where is my daughter? Is she
and responding to one another attentively. Listening to all the genuine care on
alright? Will we nuke them? Will they nuke us? Is there a mate for me?
these tracks made me happy.
I used a lot of sus chords in the MAGDALENE LAUNDRIES — where women were
Jeremy Lublock heard a jam we did — Klein and Vinnie and Landau and me. It
unjustly incarcerated and couldn’t get out. I used them in ETHIOPIA (and dissonant
was unfinished. I had thrown on a scratch, scat vocal. Henry played it for him.
seconds, too) where women were trapped in famine and surrounded by slavers and
He loved it. He said to Henry, “Let me put some strings on it — I have to put
killers. I use them theatrically to depict unresolved situations. Apparently this was
strings on it! She can take them off if she doesn’t like them but I hear them — I
never done before in music — a man’s game. Men need resolution. Maybe only a
have to do it.” So, the beautiful string arrangement on TWO GREY ROOMS
woman could break that long standing rule. Tom Scott noticed the sus chords — back
went on. That track remained unfinished — sitting on a shelf — waiting for the
at COURT AND SPARK. He said, “It’s fascinating to play her songs because you get
words. It took me years to find the right story. When I did, I edited the strings
involved in that suspension that you’ve heard and now we’re beginning to find out
ever so slightly. The story I found was strange but true. A German aristocrat —
what makes up that suspension.”
a gay man — had a lover in his youth who he never got over. He lost contact
Occasionally, I hear an illustrative opportunity in a piece, and I ask for it. On BE
COOL, I told Herbie Hancock “O.K. Herbie — you’re the ice cubes rattling in a
glass.” Listen to what he played — high, glassy notes — clinking. Perfect! Another
time, Joe Sample was the piano player and I heard a spot for illustration on TROUBLE
CHILD — after the repeating phrase, “breaking like the waves at Malibu.” I asked Joe
with him for many years. Then, somehow, he rediscovered him. He was a dock
worker — hard hat — lunch pail. The aristocrat left his fancy digs and rented
two grey rooms above street level. From this shabby perch, he was able to
watch the object of his obsession going to and coming back from work. He
never tried to make contact as far as I know. Unrequited love.
to play me a Japanese wave there. “A Japanese wave?” he balked. “Yeah,” I said,
John Guerin and I were in love when we recorded HARRY’S HOUSE. Listening
“like” (and I sang it) — “Doodle oodle loo — breeow,” and I made an ascending
to it after so many years have passed, our chemistry is palpable. No other
arc with my hand that curled and sucked in on itself on the “breeow.” He smiled and
drummer could have played that piece. Not like that. This is the song he spoke
listened to how he played it — better than just abstract notes.
of earlier — full of odd time changes and subtle dynamics.
Wayne Shorter is the most visual of all the musicians I have worked with and the
Klein’s bass on CHINESE CAFE could not be better — suspenseful — symphonic
most profuse with ideas. I give him all the tracks I have for the joy of listening to him
— gorgeous.
explore. I always put him on last so everything is there for him to relate to. Then I take
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15
Don Alias, playing the congas on THE WOLF THAT LIVES IN LINDSEY, is zeroed
you want Jose Feliciano — you get Jose Feliciano!” I had some smoothing to do. I
in. “Out touch is totally tandem.”
asked him if he would, please, slide into the note — start it a bit early. He did. After he
Greg Leisz plays with such tenderness. There is a spiritual power to what he
plays — always.
left I said to Henry, “I want to erase the first part of that note.” Henry looked doubtful. I
told him “Put that track into record but first show me the button to stop recording.” He
did, and we began to erase Larry’s note. I stopped the erasing where I really wanted
I love trumpets — especially muted trumpets. I even love synth muted trumpets. I
have used them on HANNA, and RAY’S DAD’S CADILLAC — along with the real
trumpets that make the sound of a plane landing.
I first made and used this sound for the intro to HARRY’S HOUSE. I had chuck
Findley hold a note I gave him as long as he could. Then I gave him another track
and another note and he held that one. I gave him a third note to hold. When
that was recorded, I blended the three notes together and bounced them down
to one track. When we mixed, Henry and a pair of hands conscripted from the
studio halls, bent the note with an oscillator while I faded it up — bringing it
closer and closer. Sounds like a plane landing to me. I sampled it and used it
again for the plane landing in RAY’S DAD’S CADILLAC.
I love the way James Taylor’s guitar locks up my dulcimer on CAREY. I love Brian
Blade — another drummer who listens to the words. He dots my “I’s” and crosses
my “T’s.” I love Joe Sample’s piano on HARRY’S HOUSE and on TROUBLE CHILD
— two different styles — both stellar! I love the sound of my friends, Charles
Valentino and Chris Kello, on YVETTE — those airy vocals.
Listen to the London Philharmonic — playing their hearts out on all these
recordings. The New York Times critic trashed this music. No love in him. Listen
to and feel the emotion in BOTH SIDES NOW. At the end of that performance,
many members of the Orchestra had their hankies out. That take was like surfing
the big one. What a thrill for all of us.
the note to come in. I blunt-cut it. There it was. The note was yanked. I had my “bite.”
You can’t play music well if you don’t love it or understand it — like Victor Feldman —
trying to play on MOON AT THE WINDOW and hating it. You have to be emotionally
engaged — passionate even — like love. If you hate it, do what Victor did — leave.
LOVE HAS MANY FACES was first conceived as a ballet. It was to be danced in
the winter of 2014 by the Alberta Ballet — choreographed by my dear friend Jean
Grande-Maître. We had done a ballet together in 2007. Our working relationship
was delightful. We had no money for costumes or set design. I did the set design —
very simple but effective — and I told Jean to paint the kids green. It was a “war”
ballet called the FIDDLE AND THE DRUM. Simultaneously, I had an art show travelling
around (L.A., New York, Toronto, Dublin). It was called GREEN FLAG SONG and
was comprised of 64 large triptychs depicting centuries of war, revolution, and
tyranny. Excerpts from these large, complex images were projected over the dancer’s
heads in a 20-ft circle. All the bad boys were there — Hitler, Stalin, Bush, etc. — but
abstracted in greens and grey-pinks. The circle above and the dancers below was
very striking.
The ballet travelled a bit. It was deemed a “block buster” by the Toronto Ballet critic
and it received 12 standing ovations one night at the Vancouver Winter Olympics. I
made a film of it, working in a “pay to play” position due to bad management. So, it
was a labor of love. The film was shown (14? 18 times?) on Canadian Bravo. P.B.S
refused it because it contained the “F” word. America! It was shown in a theatre in
Czechoslovakia and on an Arab television station, which really surprised me. It has
I ran into Robbie Robertson recently and I told him how much I enjoyed what he
gained a kind of “cult” status and is currently showing in a gallery in Athens, Greece
played on RAISED ON ROBBERY. He said, “But I only got one take,” as if he
along with several other anti-war films — including an early film of Roman Polanski’s.
needed another one. I said, “Well, you nailed it. If it works — don’t fix it. Great
rock ‘n’ roll composition!”
Now we were doing another one — this time it was a “love” ballet. I spent a year
and a half trying to distill everything I have written about love and the lack of it down
There were, of course, over the years, many sessions where things I tried did
not come off — where they played the wrong thing or I said the wrong thing.
Music like love has its ups and downs. On COURT AND SPARK, I wanted Larry
Carlton, who was playing acoustic guitar, to bite a note — to attack it. He
wouldn’t or couldn’t. I said, “You know — like Jose Feliciano.” He snapped “If
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to 75 minutes — one disc.
I sequenced and sequenced. I wanted the music to lead and feel like a total work
— a new work. No matter what I did, though, at that length, it remained merely a
collection of songs. The ballet had been named and advertised. Tickets had been
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sold. With a sadness and a flattening sense of failure, I bowed out. Tickets had
I heard a man speaking on the radio — on behalf of many of the record
to be refunded. Jean apologized to the press on my behalf. He showed me great
companies. He said, “We are no longer looking for talent! We’re looking for
understanding but he was now in trouble with his “money people.”
a look and a willingness to cooperate.” Well, I’m totally out of sync with these
I continued to sequence. I needed to prove to myself that what I was after was
possible. First I took the girdle off — the time constraint. Mountains of discs pilled
up — mountains of trial and error. The process was like documentary filmmaking.
I had forty years of footage to review. Then, suddenly, scenes began to hook up.
Then series began to form. Instead of it being an emotional roller coaster ride
as it was before —crammed into one disc — themes began to develop. Moods
sustained. I was getting there.
tragic times. This package is oozing with talent. Some of the greatest musicians
in the world are gathered here. And this “look” they want — well, the Grammies
look like a porno convention! Is that the look? I’m 70 years old. It’s been 30 years
since I was cougar. Now there’s a look! What about the songs of a sabre tooth
tiger? (Or am I a unicorn?) As for “willingness to cooperate,” I’m willing! As
long as we are pulling together towards excellence, I’ll cooperate! But push me
towards mediocrity — which sells very well — and I’ll fight you like Bette Davis.
She said, “Anyone who stands between me and my art is my enemy!”
I began to see characters from one song appear in others. HANNA, for instance,
she’s a housekeeper. She wears an apron. She’s salt of the earth — no nonsense
— wise. She has a sense of humor. She could dance COMES LOVE and BE
COOL and take part in GOD MUST BE A BOOGIE MAN.
When this long editorial process (2 years) finally came to rest, I had 4 ballets
or a four-act ballet — a quartet. I also had a box set. Now, if only one act was
danced, at least it was part of a more satisfying whole. Love is a big issue. I could
get 12 discs out of what I’ve written but these four say enough.
Act One begins in the fifties. Two 15-year-old girls are standing in front of a black
burlesque show at the end of a mile-long midway. The music is seductive — jazzy
— stripper music. They had been forbidden to stop there. “Don’t even look! Pass
right on by!” In the background you hear the barker — “Step right up folks! The
show is about to begin!” Rock ‘n’ roll is new and cars have given teenagers an
unprecedented liberty. It continues into our materialistic and litigious times. Act
This box set is rising like a phoenix from the ashes of two dead projects —
a ballet and a horrendously ill-conceived box set. They started it without me.
They hired two incompetents to “do” me. It was to be a 2-disc set — peppered
with discarded and damaged work — for the sake of something “new.” They
hired a burglar to enter my storage space (ironically called “A Safe Place”). He
rummaged around and came back with the dregs. “Why are you doing this?” I
asked the bosses. “That’s the way it’s done,” was the reply. “Not to me,” I said
and I squelched it. A little while later, the bosses were fired, and just before the
company went belly up, I got the bills — for their mistake.
The ballet is a dream I hope somehow to resurrect. We’ll see. Meanwhile, with
these notes coming to an end, my work is done. I’m celebrating. I’m pouring
myself a glass of wine. I’d like to drink a toast. If God is dead and love is dead, is
talent the next fatality? Let’s all drink a toast to talent. Here’s to you, talent — may
you be resurrected, too.
Two is dark. It leads us into the perversion and corruption of these times until
the wise little housekeeper, Hanna, lights the lamp. A healing begins. Humanity
returns. The heart opens. The ability to love becomes a possibility. This act closes
—Joni Mitchell
with an enchanted NIGHT RIDE HOME. Act Three is the smitten act — the “in
love” act until the imperfections corrode the harmony. This act defines what love
is — ideally. Act Four is called IF YOU WANT ME I’LL BE IN THE BAR. If danced,
much of it would be a barroom setting — characters coming and going. Here,
love of land, love of water, wanderlust, obsession, frustration — many “faces
of love” appear and disappear. This act, the final act, has a warm and friendly
ending — the dancers link arms and wish us all a lot of luck.
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19
Act 1
Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll Days
In France They Kiss On Main Street
Downtown
My darling dime store thief
In the War of Independence
Rock ‘n’ roll rang sweet as victory.
Under neon signs,
A girl was in bloom
And a woman was fading
In a suburban room.
I said “Take me to the dance
Do you want to dance?
I love to dance!”
And I told him “They don’t take chances
They seem so removed from romance.
They’ve been broken in churches and schools
And molded to middle class circumstance.”
And we were rolling, rolling, rock ‘n’ rolling.
Ray’s Dad’s Cadillac
You Turn Me On I’m a Radio
Harlem in Havana
Rollin’
Past the rink
Past the record shack
Pink fins in the falling rain
Rollin’
To the blue lights past the water mains
If you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love you
At the far end of the midway,
By the double ferris wheel,
There’s a band that plays so snakey
You can’t help how you feel.
Emmy May ran away
With a man as dark as night…
You can see him, if you go there,
Second trumpet to the right.
Weekends we’d get
Rock ‘n roll in the dashboard
Romance in the back of
Ray’s dad teaches math
Zero
I’m a dunce
I’m a decimal in his class
Last night’s kisses won’t erase
Zero
I just can’t keep the numbers in their place
Downtown
The dance halls and cafes
Feel so wild you could break somebody’s heart
Just doing the latest dance craze.
Gail and Louise
In those push-up brassieres
Tight dresses and rhinestone rings
Drinking up the band’s beers.
Young love was kissing under bridges,
Kissing in cars, kissing in cafes
And we were walking down Main Street
Kisses like bright flags hung on holidays!
In France they kiss on Main Street
Amour, mama, not cheap display!
And we were rolling, rolling, rock ‘n’ rolling.
Last night we had
Rock ‘n roll in the dashboard
When it comes to mathematics
I got static in the attic
“No sir, nothin’s clear!”
I’ll be blackboard blind on Monday
Dreamin’ of blue runways
On the edge of here
A little atmosphere
Downtown
In the pinball arcade
With his head full of pool hall pitches
And songs from the hit parade
He’d be singing “Bye Bye Love”
While he’s racking up his free play
Let those rock ‘n’ roll choir boys
Come and carry us away.
Sometimes Chickie had the car
Or Ron had the car
Or Lead Foot Melvin with his hot-wire head.
We’d all go looking for a party
Looking to raise Jesus up from the dead
And I’d be kissing in the back seat,
Thrilling to the Brando-like things that he said
And we’d be rolling rolling rock ‘n’ rolling.
Blue lights
Out on airport road
Motown in a field in a farmer’s grove
Big planes comin’ overhead
Lowdown
You can see the bolts
You can see the tire treads
Weekends we’d get
Rock ‘n’ roll in the dashboard
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Oh 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
A broadcasting tower
Waving for you
And I’m sending you out
This signal here
I hope you can pick it up
Loud and clear
They play “Night Train”
So snakey!
Black girls dancing
Long and leggy!
Barkers barking,
“Step right up, folks!
The show is about to begin
It’s Harlem in Havana time
Step right in!”
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 tricks
It’s been dirty for dirty
Down the line
But you know
I come when you whistle
When you’re loving and kind
But if you’ve got too many doubts
If there’s no good reception for me
Then tune me out
Silver spangles
See ‘em dangle in the farm boys’ eyes!
Hootchie kootchie
Auntie Ruthie would’ve cried
If she knew we were on the inside.
When Emmy May ran away
She came back a bottle blonde,
God! The gossips had a gourmet feast
Chomping on how she went wrong.
But miracle of miracles
‘Cause we were under age
She got us nearly front row seats
To the right side of the stage.
‘Cause honey who needs the static
It hurts the head
And you wind up cracking
And the day goes dismal
From “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 there
See that tall girl?
That’s a man!
That one too
With the yellow feather fan!
Barkers barking
“Step right up, folks!
The show is about to begin
It’s Harlem in Havana time
Step right in!”
If you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love you
If 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
Silver spangles
See ‘em dangle in the farm boys’ eyes!
Hootchie kootchie
Auntie Ruthie would’ve died
If she knew we were on the inside.
21
Car On a Hill
He’s a dancin’ clown
Dancin’ dancin’
A dancin’ clown
Dancin’
He’s a dancin’ clown
Dancin’ dancin’ dancin’
Dancin’ clown
I’ve been sitting up waiting for my sugar to show
I’ve been listening to the sirens and the radio
He said he’d be over three hours ago
I’ve been waiting for his car on the hill
He makes friends easy
He’s not like me
I watch for judgement anxiously
Now where in the city can that boy be
Waiting for a car
Climbing
Climbing
Climbing the hill
Cherchez la femme
Whenever love comes around
Someone’s a dancin’ clown
Cherchez la femme
Whenever hearts start to pound
He’s a real good talker — I think he’s a friend
Fast tires come screaming around the bend
But there’s still no buzzer
They roll on
And I’m waiting for his car on the hill
It always seems so righteous at the start
When there’s so much laughter
When there’s so much spark
When there’s so much sweetness in the dark
Waiting for a car
Climbing
Climbing
Climbing the hill
Down the street comes last–word–Suzie
She’s high yellow — lookin’ top nice
You hear the swoosh of jungle blades
And the crackle of northern ice
“Hot damn!” says Rowdy lookin’ up
“Yum!” says Jesse lookin’ down
“How would you like to be her dancin’
Her dancin’ clown?”
Be her dancin’ clown
Dancin’ dancin’
Dancin’ clown
Dancin’
Be her dancin’ clown
Dancin’ clown
Dancin’ Clown
Cherchez la femme
Whenever love comes around
Cherchez la femme
Wherever hearts start to pound
No you couldn’t call Jesse a babe in the woods
He’s just weak in self-defense
‘Cause he’s so thin skinned
He can’t take a joke at his expense
“You’re a push down window” says Rowdy Yates
“I can run you up and down
Anytime I want to
I can make you my dancin’
My dancin’ clown!”
You’re my dancin’ clown
Dancin’ dancin’
Dancin’ clown
Dancin’
You’re my dancin’ clown
Dancin’ clown
River
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green
I’m going to make a lot of money
Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
Rowdy Yates is as bold as Jove
He’s all chide and snide and bluff
Stuck in the romantic tradition
Of acting rough and tough
“You’re always charging thru” says Jesse
Nervous lookin’ all around
To see who’s seein’ him bein’ a dancin’
A dancin’ clown
I
I
I
I
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wish I had a river so long
would teach my feet to fly
wish I had a river I could skate away on
made my baby cry
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on
I’m so hard to handle
I’m selfish and I’m sad
Now I’ve gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
I wish I had a river I could skate away on
Down at the Chinese Cafe
We’d be dreaming on our dimes
We’d be playing “You give your love, so sweetly”
One more time
Christmas is sparkling
Out on Carol’s lawn
This girl of my childhood games
Has kids nearly grown and gone
Grown up so fast
Like the turn of a page
We look like our mothers did now
When we were those kids’ age
Nothing lasts for long
Oh, I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby say goodbye
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river I could skate away on
We’d be playing
“Oh my love, my darling
I’ve hungered for your touch
A long lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me”
Time goes — where does the time go
I wonder where the time goes
Chinese Café/Unchained Melody
Caught in the middle, Carol
We’re middle class
We’re middle aged
We were wild in the old days
Birth of rock ‘n’ roll days
Now your kids are coming up straight
And my child’s a stranger
I bore her
But I could not raise her
Harry’s House/Centerpiece
Heat waves on the runway
As the wheels set down
He takes his baggage off the carousel
He takes a taxi into town
Yellow schools of taxi fishes…
Jonah in a ticking whale
Caught up at the lights in the fishnet windows
Of Bloomingdale’s…
Watching those high fashion girls
Skinny black models with Raveen curls and
Beauty parlor blondes with credit card eyes
Looking for the chic and the fancy to buy.
We’d be playing “Oh my love, my darling”
One more time
Uranium money
Is booming in the old home town now
It’s putting up sleek concrete
Tearing the old landmarks down now
Paving over brave little parks
Ripping off Indian land again
How long how long
Short sighted business men
Ah nothing lasts for long
He opens up his suitcase
In the continental suite
And people thirty stories down
Look like colored currents in the street.
A helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof
Like a dragonfly on a tomb
And business men in button downs
23
Press into conference rooms
Battalions of paper minded males
Talking commodities and sales
While at home their paper wives
And their paper kids
Paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid.
Friends have told her “Not so proud”
Neighbors trying to sleep and yelling
“Not so loud”
Lovers in anger — “Block of Ice”
Harder and harder just to be nice.
Given in the night to dark dreams
From the dark things she feels
She covers her eyes in the x-rated scenes
Running from the reels.
Yellow checkers for the kitchen
Climbing ivy for the bath
She is lost in House and Gardens
He’s caught up in Chief of Staff.
He drifts off into the memory
Of the way she looked in school
With her body oiled and shining
At the public swimming pool…
Beauty and madness to be praised
‘Cause it is not easy to be brave
To walk around in so much need
To carry the weight of all that greed.
Dressed in stolen clothes she stands
Cast iron and frail
With her impossibly gentle hands
And her blood-red fingernails…
“The more I’m with you pretty baby
The more I feel my love increase
I’m building all my dreams around you
Our happiness will never cease
‘Cause nothing’s any good without you
Baby you’re my centerpiece.
Out of the fire and still smoldering
She says “A woman must have everything”
Shades of Scarlett Conquering
She says “A woman must have everything”
We’ll find a house and garden somewhere
Along a country road a piece
A little cottage on the outskirts
Where we can really find release
‘Cause nothing’s any good without you
Baby you’re my centerpiece.”
Number One
Got to be a winner trophy winner
Get to hold your head up high up
Number one
…Shining hair and shining skin
Shining as she reeled him in
To tell him like she did today
Just what he could do with Harry’s House
And Harry’s take home pay.
Number one
Number one
Number one
Honey tell me
When your working day is done
Were you reaching for the high rung?
Reaching to be number one?
Shades of Scarlett Conquering
Out of the fire like Catholic saints
Comes Scarlett and her deep complaint
Mimicking tenderness she sees
In sentimental movies.
A celluloid rider comes to town
Cinematic lovers sway
Plantations and sweeping ballroom gowns
Take her breath away.
You get a car
You want a boat
You want an eenie-meenie-miney
Miney-moe
Oh there must be more to living
Than a mortgage and a lawn to mow
Out in the wind in crinolines
Chasing the ghosts of Gable and Flynn
Through stand-in boys and extra players
Magnolias hopeful in her auburn hair.
She comes from a school of southern charm
She likes to have things her way
Any man in the world holding out his arm
Would soon be made to pay.
Sweaty work
And lucky breaks
And blood and tears is all it takes
To be a winner
People cheer
And people gasp
People want your autograph
When you’re a winner
24
Run run run run
Let’s see you run
We’ll be betting by the starting gun
Shall we shower you with flowers?
Or shall we shun ya
When your race is run?
Will we shower you with flowers?
Or will we shun ya
Will they shower you with flowers?
Or will they shun ya
It wasn’t hard to guess
That the end would be a mess
You want too much
You want too badly
You want everything for nothing!
In the land of mass frustration
The judges are sleeping
Counting wooly little lawyers
And grinding their teeth
Outside my sleepless window
The Hollywood sirens are shrieking
While down some searchlit alley runs
Some lost belief
Number one
Oh I’m tangled in your lies
Your scam
Your spider web
Spit spun between the trees
Doors slam
You want my head!
You’d eat your young alive
For a jaguar in the drive
You lie too much
You lie too badly
The Windfall (Everything for Nothing)
Because Elvis gave ‘em cars
You think I’m cheap
And you’re hard done by
Look you live here like a star
Rent free suite
Big blue pool that you sun by
Trips to tropic shores
Clothes from fancy stores
You want too much
You want too badly
Come In From The Cold
Back in 1957
We had to dance a foot apart
And they hawk-eyed us from the sidelines
Holding their rulers without a heart
And so with just a touch of our fingers
We could make our circuitry explode
All we ever wanted
Was just to come in from the cold.
Going to the church
You chant
For my downfall
Chanting for my house
My friends
You want it all…
The pillows on my bed
The visions in my head
You want too much
You want too badly
Come in
Come in
Oh come in from the cold
(We were so sure)
Please come in
Come in from the cold
In the land of litigation
The courts are like game shows
Take what’s behind the curtain
The jury cries!
I’m not going to be the jackpot
At the end of your perjured rainbow
Not if local justice has even one good eye.
I feel your legs under the table
Leaning into mine
I feel renewed
I feel disabled
By these bonfires in my spine.
I don’t know who the arsonist was
Which incendiary soul
But all I ever wanted
Oh it’s not like I was blind
I saw
But I took no action
As you began to climb
Green clawed
Dissatisfaction
25
Come in
Come in
(You were so warm)
Oh come in
I am not some stone commission
Like a statue in a park
I am flesh and blood and vision
I am howling in the dark.
Long blue shadows of the jackals
Are falling on a pay phone by the road
Oh, all they ever wanted
Come in
Come in
(I was so low)
Please come in
“All the guilty people” he said
They’ve all seen the stain
On their daily bread
On their Christian names
I cleared myself
I sacrificed my blues
And you could complete me
I’d complete you
Tire skids and teeth marks
What happened to this place?
Lawyers and loan sharks
Are laying America to waste
His eyes were the color of the sand
And the sea
And the more he talked to me
The more he reached me
But I couldn’t let go of L.A.
City of the fallen angels
Trouble Child
No Apologies
The general offered no apologies
He said, “The soldiers erred in judgment
They should have hired a hooker”
No apologies
To the outraged Japanese
No “Sorry little girl”
The pigs just took her
Act 2
The Light is Hard to Find
Court & Spark
Love came to my door
With a sleeping roll
And a madman’s soul
He thought for sure I’d seen him
Dancing up a river in the dark
Looking for a woman
To court and spark
Freddie said that Juan thinks
I think he’s the devil
What a lofty title
For such a petty little tyrant
Bigger beasts abound
And they kick this world around
At this crazy speed
With violence and greed
He was playing on the sidewalk
For passing change
When something strange happened
Glory train passed through him
So he buried the coins he made
In People’s Park
And went looking for a woman
To court and spark
So what makes a man a man
In these tough times
As drug lords buy up the banks
And warlords radiate the oceans
Ecosystems fail
Snakes and snails and puppy tails
Are wagging in the wound
Beneath the trampled moon
It seemed like he read my mind
He saw me mistrusting him
And still acting kind
He saw how I worried sometimes
I worry sometimes
26
Not To Blame
The story hit the news
From coast to coast
They said you beat the girl
You loved the most
Your charitable acts
Seemed out of place
With the beauty
With your fist marks on her face
Your buddies all stood by
They bet their fortunes
And their fame
That she was out of line
And you were not to blame
The general offered
No apologies
Up in a sterilized room
Where they let you be lazy
Knowing your attitude’s all wrong
And you’ve got to change
And that’s not easy
Dragon shining with all values known
Dazzling you — keeping you from your own
Where is the lion in you to defy him
When you’re this weak
And this spacey
Six hundred thousand doctors
Are putting on rubber gloves
And they’re poking
At the miseries made of love
They say they’re learning
How to spot
The battered wives
Among all the women
They see bleeding through their lives
I bleed for your perversity
These red words that make a stain
On your white-washed claim that
She was out of line
And you were not to blame
So what are you going to do about it
You can’t live life and you can’t leave it
Advice and religion you can’t take it
You can’t seem to believe it
The peacock is afraid to parade
You’re under the thumb of the maid
You really can’t give love in this condition
Still you know how you need it
They open and close you
Then they talk like they know you
They don’t know you
They’re friends and they’re foes too
Trouble child
Breaking like the waves at Malibu
I heard your baby say
When he was only three
“Daddy let’s get some girls
One for you and one for me”
His mother had the frailty you despise
And the looks you love to drive to suicide
Not one wet eye around
Her lonely little grave
Said, “He was out of line girl
You were not to blame”
So why does it come as such a shock
To know you really have no one
Only a river of changing faces
Looking for an ocean
They trickle through your leaky plans
Another dream over the dam
And you’re lying in some room
Feeling like your right to be human
Is going over too
Well some are going to knock you
And some’ll try and clock you
You know it’s really hard
To talk sense to you
Trouble child
Breaking like the waves at Malibu
Nothing Can Be Done
Must I forgive you
Each time
And say you don’t know what you’re doing
There are no victimless crimes
I know of
Out here in these graffiti ruins
My love
27
Oh I am not old
I’m told
But I am not young
Oh and nothing can be done
Don’t start
My heart
Is a smoking gun
Comes a fire
Firemen come and rescue you
Blow a tire
You can patch the inner tube
But comes love
Nothing can be done
Don’t try hidin’
‘Cause it isn’t any use
You’ll just start slidin’
When your heart turns on the juice
I heard you leaving
Oh late last night
I heard you screaming down the mountain
Like you were running red lights
Red lights
You had some trash can rock band pounding
Comes a heat wave
You can hurry to the shore
Comes a summons
Hide yourself behind the door
Comes love
Nothing can be done
Oh I am not old
I’m told
But I am not young
Don’t start
My heart
Is a smoking gun
Comes a headache
You can lose it in a day
Comes a toothache
See your dentist right away
Comes love
Nothing can be done
Must I surrender
With grace
The things I loved when I was younger
Sweet embrace
Must I remember your face
So well
What do I do here with this hunger
Comes the measles
You can quarantine the room
Comes a mousie
You can chase it with a broom
Comes love
Nothing can be done
Oh I am not old
I’m told
But I am not young
Don’t start
My heart
Is a smoking gun
That’s all brother
If you’ve ever been in love
That’s all brother
Then you’ll know just what I’m speakin’ of
Nothing can be done
Nothing can be done
Oh nothing can be done
Comes a nightmare
You can always stay awake
Comes depression
You could get another break
Comes love
Nothing can be done
Nothing can be done
Comes Love
Moon at the Window
Comes a rain storm,
Put your rubbers on your feet
Comes a snow storm
You can get a little heat
Comes love
Nothing can be done
It takes cheerful resignation
Heart and humility
That’s all it takes
A cheerful person told me
Nobody’s harder on me than me
How could they be
And nobody’s harder on you than you
28
Betsy’s blue
She says “Tell me something good!”
You know I’d help her out if I only could
Oh but sometimes the light
Can be so hard to find
At least the moon at the window
the thieves left that behind
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs lots of laughs
Everybody’s saying that hell’s the hippest way to go
Well I don’t think so
But I’m gonna take a look around it though
Blue I love you
Blue
Here is a shell for you
Inside you’ll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me
People don’t know how to love
They taste it and toss it
Turn it off and on
Like a bathtub faucet
Oh sometimes the light
Can be so hard to find
The thieves left that behind
Tax Free
Front rooms
Back rooms
Slide into tables
Crowd into bathrooms
Joke around
Cheap talk
Deep talk
Talk talk talk around the clock
Crawl home
Lie down
Teeth chatter
Heart pounds
I don’t feel so good
I don’t feel so good
Push a button to escape
Preacher on the tube crying “Lord!”
There’s evil in this land
“Rock and roll music!”
“Cast down these dope fiends
and there noisy bands!”
“Damn their souls!”
Preacher preaching love like vengeance
Preaching love like hate
Calling for large donations
Promising estates
With rolling lawns and angel bands
Behind the pearly gates
You know he will have his in this life
But yours will have to wait
He’s immaculately tax free
I wish her heart
I know these battles
Deep in the dark
When the spooks of memories rattle
Ghosts of the future
Phantoms of the past
Rattle rattle rattle
In the spoon and the glass
Is it possible to learn
How to care and yet not care
Since love has two faces
Hope and despair
And pleasure always turns to fear
I find
The thieves left that behind
Moon at the window
They left that behind
At least they left the moon
Behind the blind
Moon at the window
Blue
Blue
Songs are like tattoos
You know I’ve been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey Blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well there’re so many sinking now
You’ve got to keep thinking
You can make it thru these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
“Multiple hundreds of thousands of...”
Tax free
“Hundreds and millions of dollars”
Tax free
“A hundred billion dollars!
And who is paying the price?
Who who
“Your children are”
29
Pissed off
Jacked up
Scream into the mic
Spit into the loving cup
Strut like a rooster
March like a man
God’s hired hands and the devil bands
Packing the same grandstands
Different clothes
“Pot in their pockets!”
Different hair
“Sexually active”
Raise a screaming guitar
or a bible in the air
Theatre of anguish
Theatre of glory
God’s hired hands and the devil bands
Oh come let us adore — ME!
Lord, there’s danger in this land
You get witch-hunts and wars
When church and state hold hands
Fuck it!
Tonight I’m going out dancing
With the drag queens and the punks
Big beat deliver me
From this sanctimonious skunk
We’re no flaming angels
And he’s not heaven sent
How can he speak for the Prince of Peace
When he’s hawk right militant
He’s immaculately tax free
The Wolf That Lives in Lindsey
Of the darkness in men’s minds
What can you say
That wasn’t marked by history
Or the TV news today
He gets away with murder
The blizzards come and go
The stab and glare and buckshot
Of the heavy heavy snow
It comes and goes
It comes and goes
His grandpa loved an empire
His sister loved a thief
And Lindsey loved the ways of darkness
Beyond belief
Girls in chilly blouses
It comes and goes
It comes and goes
“Our nation has lost its guts!”
Save me
“Our nation has lost its strength”
Tax free
“Our nation has whimpered and cried”
Save me
“And petted (pandered to) the Castros”
Tax free
“The Khomeinis’ and the Kaddafis’”
Save me
“For so long”
Tax free
“That we don’t know how to act like a man”
Save me
“I think that we should turn the United States Marines
loose on that little island south of Florida and
stop that problem!”
“I am preachin’ love, I am!”
30
The cops don’t seem to care
For derelicts or ladies of the night
They’re weeds for yanking out of sight
If you’re smart or rich or lucky
Maybe you’ll beat the laws of man
But the inner laws of spirit
And the outer laws of nature
No man can
No no man can
Hana has a special knack
For getting people back on the right track
‘Cause she knows
They all matter
So she doesn’t argue or flatter
She doesn’t fight the slights
She takes it on the chin
Like a champ
Hana says when life’s a drag
Don’t cave in
Don’t wave a white flag
Raise up
A white banner
In this manner
Straighten your back
Dig in your heals
And get a good grip on your grief!
Well, I looked at the granite markers
Those tributes to finality — to eternity
Then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for a piece of immortality
In the church they light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There is the hope and the hopelessness
I’ve witnessed all these years
We’re only particles of change — I know
We’re just orbiting around the sun
But how can I have that point of view
When I’m bound and tied to someone
White flags of winter chimneys
Waving truce against the moon
In the mirrors of a modern bank
From the window of my hotel room
Hana says, “Don’t get me wrong
This is no simple Sunday song
Where God or Jesus comes along
And they save ya.
You’ve got to be braver than that
You tackle the beast alone
With all its tenacious teeth!”
Light the lamp.
I’m traveling in some vehicle
I’m sitting in some cafe
A defector from the petty wars
Until love sucks me back that way
Hejira
Hana
I’m traveling in some vehicle
I’m sitting in some cafe
A defector from these petty wars
That shell shock love away
There’s comfort in melancholy
When there’s no need to explain
It’s just as natural as the weather
In this moody sky today
In our possessive coupling
So much can not be expressed
So now I’m returning to myself
These things that you and I suppressed
I see something of myself in everyone
Right at this moment of the world
As snow gathers like bolts of lace
Waltzing on a bridal girl
Hana steps out of a storm
Into a stranger’s warm, but
Hard-up kitchen.
She sees what must be done
So she takes off her coat
Rolls up her sleeves
And starts pitchin’ in.
You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or you do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or you stick to some straighter line
Now here’s a man and a woman sitting on a rock
They’re either going to thaw out or freeze
Listen
There lives a wolf in Lindsey
That raids and runs
Through the hills of Hollywood
And the downtown slums
He gets away with murder
It comes and goes
It comes and goes
Sounds like Benny Goodman
Floating through the snowy trees
I’m porous with travel fever
But I’m so glad to be on my own
Still, the slightest touch of a stranger
Sets up a trembling in my bones
But I know no one’s going to show me everything
We come and go unknown
Each so deep and so superficial
Between the forceps and the stone
Stay In Touch
This is really something
People will be envious
But our roles aren’t clear
So we mustn’t rush
Still, we’re burning brightly
Clinging like fire to fuel
I’m grinning like a fool
Stay in touch
We should stay in touch
Oh! Stay in touch
In touch
Part of this is permanent
Part of this is passing
So we must be loyal and wary
Not to give away too much
Til we build a firm foundation
And empty out old habits
Old habits
31
Stay in touch
Oh! Stay in touch
In touch
Round the curve
And a big dark horse
Red taillights on his hide
Is keeping right alongside
Rev for stride
4th of July
Night Ride Home
During times like these
The wise are influential
They can bear the imperfections
They can keep the harmony
No doubt about it
No doubt that’s essential
“No doubt”
That’s always been a tricky one for me
I love the man beside me
We love the open road
No phones till Friday
Far from the undertow
Far from the overload
So, we should just surrender
Let fate and duty shape us
Let light hearts remake us
Let the worries hush
In the middle of this continent
In the middle of our time on Earth
We perceive one another
Stay in touch
Oh! Stay in touch
In touch
Once in awhile
In a big blue moon
There comes a night like this
Like some surrealist
Invented this 4th of July
Night Ride Home
Night Ride Home
On a Night Ride Home
Act 3
Love Has Many Faces
Night Ride Home
You’re My Thrill
Once in a while
In a big blue moon
There comes a night like this
Like some surrealist
Invented this 4th of July
Night Ride Home
You’re my thrill
You do something to me
You send chills right through me
When I look at you
‘Cause you’re my thrill
Hula girls
and caterpillar tractors in the sand
The ukulele man
The fireworks
This 4th of July
Night Ride Home
You’re my thrill
How my pulse increases
I just go to pieces
Everytime I look at you
I can’t keep still
M-m-m
Nothing seems to matter
M-m-m
Here’s my heart on a silver platter
I love the man beside me
We love the open road
No phones till Friday
Far from the overkill
Far from the overload
Oh where is my will
Why this strange desire
Flaming higher and higher
Everytime I look at you
I can’t keep still
You’re my thrill
Back at the bar
The band tears down
But out here in the headlight beams
The silver power lines
Gleam
On this 4th of July
Night Ride Home
32
What a pocket of heavenly grace”
But in France they say
Everyday
Love puts on a new face
Love has many faces
Many, many faces
The Crazy Cries of Love
It was a dark and a stormy night
Everyone was at the wing-ding
They weren’t the wing-ding type
So they went up on the train bridge
Where the weather was howling
And oh, oh, my my
When that train comes rolling by
No paper thin walls, no folks above
No one else can hear
The crazy cries of love
About a month or so later he said
“Why can’t you be happy
You make me feel helpless when you get this way”
I said, “I’m up to my neck in alligators
Jaws gnashing at me
Each one trying to pull a piece away
Darling, you can’t slay these beasts of prey
Some bad dreams even love can’t erase”
Everyday
Love has many faces
Many, many faces
They were laughing, they were dancing in the rain
They knew their love was a strong one
When they heard the far off whistle of a train
They were hoping it was going to be a long one
‘Cause oh, oh, my my
He said “I wish you were with me here
The leaves are electric
They burn on the river bank
Countless heatless flames”
I said, “Well send me some pictures then
And I’ll paint pyrotechnic
Explosions of your autumn till we meet again
I miss your touch and your lips so much
I long for our next embrace”
Everyday
Love puts on a new face Love has many faces
Many, many faces
In the back booth of an all-night cafe
Two dripping raincoats are hanging
Outside in the weather
The shade on the streetlight is clanging
And they smile ear to ear and eye to eye
Ice cream is melting on a piece of pie
And oh, my my
The cries of love
Every kiss was sweet and strong
Every touch was totally tandem
As the train come a-rumbling along
They sang a lover’s song of wild abandon
And oh, oh, my my
Borderline
Everybody looks so ill at ease
So distrustful
So displeased
Running down the table
I see a borderline
Like a barbed wire fence
Strung tight strung tense
Prickling with pretense
A borderline
Why are you smirking at your friend?
Is this to be the night when
All well-wishing ends?
All credibility revoked?
Thin skin
Thick jokes!
Can we blame it on the smoke,
This borderline?
Love Puts On A New Face
He said “You think you’re a lady
But I know you’re a woman
We are as young as the night”
I said “No telephones ringing
No company coming
Just the lap of the lake and the firelight
And the lonely loon and the crescent moon
33
Every bristling shaft of pride
Church or nation
Team or tribe
Every notion we subscribe to
Is just a borderline
Good or bad we think we know
As if thinking makes things so!
All convictions grow along a borderline.
Smug in your jaded expertise
You scathe the wonder world
And you praise barbarity.
In this illusionary place
This scared hard-edged rat race
All liberty is laced with
Borderlines
Every income every age
Every fashion-plated rage
Every measure every gauge
Creates a borderline
Every stone thrown through glass
Every mean-street-kick-ass
Every swan caught on the grass
Will draw a borderline
You snipe so steady
You snub so snide
So ripe and ready
To diminish and deride!
You’re so quick to condescend
My opinionated friend
All you deface
All you defend
Is just a borderline.
Just a borderline.
Another borderline
Just a borderline.
A Strange Boy
A strange boy is weaving
A course of grace and havoc
On a yellow skateboard
Thru midday sidewalk traffic
Just when I think he’s foolish and childish
And I want him to be manly
I catch my fool and my child
Needing love and understanding
What a strange, strange boy
He still lives with his family
Even the war and the navy
Couldn’t bring him to maturity
He keeps referring back to school days
And clinging to his child
Fidgeting and bullied
His crazy wisdom holding onto something wild
He asked me to be patient
Well I failed
“Grow up!” I cried
And as the smoke was clearing he said
“Give me one good reason why”
He sees the cars as sets of waves
Sequences of mass and space
He sees the damage in my face
We got high on travel
And we got drunk on alcohol
And on love the strongest poison and medicine of all
See how that feeling comes and goes
Like the pull of moon on tides
Now I am surf rising
Now parched ribs of sand at his side
I gave him clothes and jewelry
I gave him my warm body
I gave him power over me
A thousand glass eyes were staring
In a cellar full of antique dolls
I found an old piano
And sweet chords rose up in waxed
New England halls
While the boarders were snoring
Under crisp white sheets of curfew
We were newly lovers then
We were fire in the stiff blue-haired house rules
You Dream Flat Tires
It came to pass
Like lightening striking from above
Electric flash
Like lightening striking from above
Struck by precious love
Precious, precious love
So hopeless and so inspired
Why do you dream flat tires
When you dream flat tires?
You dream flat tires
With a jack and a spare you’re there
Trying to get to where love is
Coming in on a rim and a prayer
Trying to get to where love is
‘Cause love is precious love
You said it was precious love
When first you felt my fire
Before you dreamed flat tires
You dreamed flat tires
34
“Woman she bounce back easy
But a man could break both his legs”
Are you telling me that to tease me?
Or just to hear me beg?
As a child I spoke as a child
I thought and I understood as a child
But when I became a woman
I put away childish things
And began to see through a glass darkly
Cause I know that you love me
But what are you going to let love be
Just a vague flirtation
Or extra special company?
Love is precious love
You said it was precious
When first you felt my fire
Before you dreamed flat tires
You dreamed flat tires
Where as a child I saw it face to face
Now I only know it in part, in part
Fractions in me
Of faith and hope and love
And of these great three
Love’s the greatest beauty
Love
Love
Love
“Woman she bounce back easy
But a man could break both his legs”
Are you telling me that to tease me
Or just to make me beg?
All I Want
I am on a lonely road
And I am travelling
Looking for something
What can it be?
Oh I hate you some
I hate you some — I love you some
I love you when I forget about me.
I want to be strong
I want to laugh along
I want to belong to the living
Alive, alive
I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings
In some juke box dive
Do you want- do you want
Do you want to dance with me baby
Do you want to take a chance
On maybe finding
Some sweet romance
With me?
Baby?
Well come on.
I know you love me
What are you going to let love be?
Flat tires
Flat tires
Love is precious
Love
Although I speak
In tongues of men and angels
I’m just sounding brass
And tinkling cymbals without love
Love suffers long
Love is kind!
Enduring all things
Hoping all things
Love has no evil in mind
If I had the gift of prophecy
And all knowledge
And the faith to move the mountains
Even if I understood all of the mysteries
If I didn’t have love
I’d be nothing
All I really, really want
Our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me
And in you too
All I really, really want
Our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me
And in you
I want to talk to you
I want to shampoo you
I want to renew you
Again and again
Applause, applause
Love never looks for love
Love’s not puffed up
Or envious
Or touchy
Because it rejoices in the truth
Not in iniquity
Love sees like a child sees
35
Life is our cause
When I think of your kisses
My mind see-saws
Do you see - do you see
Do you see how you hurt me?
Baby?
So I hurt you too
Then we both get so blue.
Be your own best friend tonight
And play it cool
Play it cool
Fifty-fifty
Fire and ice
Don’t get jealous
Don’t get over-zealous
Be cool
Don’t whine
Kiss off that flaky valentine
You’re nobody’s fool
I am on a lonely road
And I am travelling
Looking for the key
To set me free
Oh the jealousy-the greed
It’s the unravelling
It’s the unravelling
And it undoes all the joy
That could be
I want to have fun
I want to shine like the sun
I want to be the one
That you want to see
I want to knit you a sweater
I want to write you a love letter
I want to make you feel better
I want to make you feel free
I want to make you feel free
Be cool fool
Be cool
Play it cool
Play it cool
Fifty-fifty
Fire and ice
So if there’s one rule to this game
Everybody’s gonna name
It’s — be cool
If you’re worried or uncertain
If your feelings are hurtin’
You’re a fool if you can’t keep cool
Charm ‘em
Don’t alarm ‘em
Keep things light
Keep your worries out of sight
And play it cool
Play it cool
Fifty-fifty
Fire and ice
Be Cool
If there’s one rule to this game
Everybody’s gonna name
It’s be cool
If you’re worried or uncertain
If your feelings are hurtin’
You’re a fool if you can’t keep cool
Charm ‘em
Don’t alarm ‘em
Keep things light
Keep your worries out of sight
And play it cool
Play it cool
Fifty-fifty
Fire and ice
Yvette In English
He met her in a French café
She slipped in sideways like a cat
Sidelong glances
What a wary little stray!
She sticks in his mind like that
Saying “Avez-vous un allumette?”
With her lips wrapped around a cigarette
Yvette in English saying
“Please have this
Little bit of instant bliss”
If your heart is on the floor
Cause you’ve just seen your lover
Comin’ through the door with a new fool
Be cool
Don’t you sweat it
Start right — right now
Trying to forget it
Be cool
Don’t get riled
Smile
Keep it light
He’s fumbling with a foreign tongue
Reaching for words and drawing blanks
A loud mouth is stricken deaf and dumb
In a bistro on the left bank
“If I were a painter,” Picasso said
“I’d paint this girl from toe to head!”
“Please have this
36
Burgundy nocturne tips and spills
They trot along nicely in the spreading stain
New chills new thrills
For the old uphill battle
How did he wind up here again?
Walking and talking
Touched and scared
Uninsulated wires laid bare
Yvette in English going
“Please have this
Everybody waiting
Old man sleeping on his bags
Women with that teased up kind of hair
Kids with the jitters in their legs
And those wide, wide open stares
And the kids got cokes and chocolate bars
There’s a thin man smoking a fat cigar
Jealous lovin’ll make you crazy
If you can’t find your goodness
‘Cause you’ve lost your heart
What are you going to do now
You’ve got no one
To give your love to
What blew her like a leaf his way?
Up in the air and down to Earth
First she flusters
Then she frays
So quick to question her own worth
Her cigarette burns her fingertips
As it falls like fireworks she curses it
Then sweetly in English she says
“Please have this
Well I’ve got this berth and this pull down blind
I’ve got this fold up sink
And these rocks and these cactus’ going by
And a bottle of German wine to drink
Settle down into the clickety clack
With the clouds and the stars to read
Dreaming of the pleasure I’m going to have
Watching your hairline recede
My vain darling
Watching your hair and clouds and stars
I’m rocking away in a sleeping car
This jealous lovin’s bound to make me crazy
I can’t find my goodness
I lost my heart
Oh sour grapes
Because I lost my heart
He sees her turn and walk away
Skittering like a cat on stone
Her high heels clicking
What a wary little stray!
She leaves him by the Seine alone
With the black water and the amber lights
And a bony bridge between left and right
“Please have this
Carey
Just Like This Train
The wind is in from Africa
Last night I couldn’t sleep
Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here Carey
But it’s really not my home
My fingernails are filthy,
I’ve got beach tar on my feet
And I miss my clean white linen
And my fancy French cologne
I’m always running behind the time
Just like this train
Shaking into town
With the brakes complaining
I used to count lovers like railroad cars
I counted them on my side
Lately I don’t count on nothing
I just let things slide
The station master’s shuffling cards
Boxcars are banging in the yards
Jealous lovin’ll make you crazy
If you can’t find your goodness
‘Cause you lost your heart
Oh Carey get out your cane
And I’ll put on some silver
Oh you’re a mean old Daddy
But I like you fine
Come on down to the Mermaid Café
And I will
Buy you a bottle of wine
And we’ll laugh and toast to nothing
And smash our empty glasses down
Let’s have a round for these freaks
And these soldiers
I went looking for a cause
Or a strong cat without claws
Or any reason to resume
And I found this empty seat
In this crowded waiting room
37
A round for these friends of mine
Let’s have another round for the bright red devil
Who keeps me in this tourist town
The Spanish steps are crowded
Bunch of bodies brooding there
Dead pan side walk vendors
Hustling vacant stares
Making all the more exceptional
This fool in a flower crown
On the first day of Spring
I’m looking at the only joy in town
Come on Carey get out your cane
I’ll put on some silver
Oh you’re a mean old Daddy
But I like you
Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam
Maybe I’ll go to Rome
And rent me a grand piano
And put some flowers ‘round my room
But let’s not talk about fare-thee-wells now
The night is a starry dome
And they’re playin’ that scratchy rock and roll
Beneath the Matala Moon
He’s the only joy around
The only joy I found
The only joy in town
The Botticelli black boy
With the fuchsias in his hair
Is breathing in women like oxygen
On the Spanish stairs
In my youth I would have followed him
All through this terra-cotta town
We’d dance and sing
And be the only joy around
Come on Carey get out your cane
And I’ll put on some silver
You’re a mean old Daddy
But I like you
The wind is in from Africa
Last night I couldn’t sleep
Oh you know it sure is hard to leave here
But it’s really not my home
Maybe it’s been too long a time
Since I was scramblin’ down in the street
Now they got me used to that clean white linen
And that fancy French cologne
We’d be the only joy around
He’s the only joy I’ve found
At night these streets are empty
Where does everybody go
Where are the brash and tender rooms
In Roman candle glow
Where are Fellini’s circuses
La Dolce Vita clowns
I’m looking
At the only joy in town
Oh Carey get out your cane
I’ll put on my finest silver
We’ll go to the Mermaid Café
Have fun tonight
I said, Oh, you’re a mean old Daddy
But you’re out of sight
The Only Joy In Town
I want to paint a picture
Botticelli style
Instead of Venus on a clam
I’d paint this flower child
“You are the air my flowers breathe”
He calls and the ladies turn around
I’m looking at the only joy around
Act 4
If You Want Me I’ll Be In The Bar
Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter
I’m Don Juan’s reckless daughter
I came out two days on your tail
Those two bald-headed days in November
Before the first snowflakes sail
Out on the vast and subtle plains of mystery
A split tongue spirit talks
Noble as a nickel chief
38
The serpent fighting for blind desire
The eagle for clarity
What strange prizes these battles bring
These hectic joys these weary blues
Puffed up and strutting when I think I win
Down and shaken when I think I lose
Striking up an old juke box
And he says:
“Snakes along the railroad tracks”
He says, “Eagles in jet trails”
He says, “Coils around feathers
And talons on scales
Gravel under the belly plates”
He says, “Wind in the wings”
He says, “Big bird dragging its tail in the dust
Snake kite flying on a string”
There are rivets up here in this eagle
There are box cars down there on your snake
And we are twins of spirit
No matter which route home we take
Or what we forsake
We’re going to come up to the eyes of clarity
And we’ll go down to the beads of guile
There is danger and education
In living out such a reckless life style
I touched you on the central plains
It was plane to train my twin
It was just plane shadow to train shadow
But to me it was skin to skin
The spirit talks in spectrums
He talks to mother earth to father sky
Self-indulgence to self-denial
Man to woman
Scales to feathers
You and I
Eagles in the sky
You and I
Snakes in the grass
You and I
Crawl and fly
You and I
I come from open prairie
Given some wisdom and a lot of jive
Last night the ghost of my old ideals
Reran on channel five
And it howled so spooky for its eagle soul
I nearly broke down and cried
But the split tongue spirit laughed at me
He said, “Your serpent cannot be denied”
Our serpents love the whisky bars
They love the romance of the crime
But didn’t I see a neon sign
Fester on your hotel blind
And a country road come off the wall
And swoop down at the crowd at the bar
And put me at the top of your danger list
Just for being so much like you are
You’re a coward against the altitude
You’re a coward against the flesh
Coward caught between yes and no
Reckless this time on the line for yes, yes, yes!
Reckless brazen in the play
Of your changing traffic lights
Coward slinking down the hall
To another restless night
As we center behind the eight ball
As we rock between the sheets
As we siphon the colored language
Off the farms and the streets
Here in Good-Old-God-Save-America
The home of the brave and the free
We are all hopelessly oppressed cowards
Of some duality
Of restless multiplicity
(Oh say can you see?)
Two Grey Rooms
Tomorrow is Sunday
Now there’s only one day left to go
Till you walk by
Below my window
The weekends drive me mad
Holidays are oh too sad
‘Cause you don’t go
Below my window
No one knows I’m here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
Only when you walk by
Below my window
Restless for streets and honky tonks
Restless for home and routine
Restless for country safety and her
Restless for the likes of reckless me
Restless sweeps like fire and rain
Over virgin wilderness
It prowls like hookers and thieves
Through bolt locked tenements
Behind my bolt locked door
The eagle and the serpent are at war in me
You look so youthful
Time has been untruthful
Heaven knows I loved you
30 years ago
Hot days your shirt’s undone
39
Rainy days you run
Oh and then you fade so fast
Below my window
No one knows I’m here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
Only when you walk by
Below my window
When you walk by
Below my window
Below my window
Hey hey
Below my window
Below my window
Below my window
Down to You
A Case of You
The Last Time I Saw Richard
Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You’re a kind person
You’re a cold person too
It’s down to you
It all comes down to you
Just before our love got lost you said
“I am as constant as a northern star”
And I said “Constantly in the darkness?
Where’s that at?
If you want me I’ll be in the bar”
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh you’re in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet
The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in ‘68
And he told me
All romantics meet the same fate — someday
Cynical and drunk
And boring someone in some dark café.
“You laugh,” he says, “you think you’re immune?
Go look at your eyes they’re two blue moons
You like roses and kisses
And pretty men to tell you all those pretty lies.
Pretty lies
When are you gonna realize
They’re only pretty lies
Just pretty lies
Pretty lies.
You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination
A few drinks later — you’re not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this strange new flesh you’ve found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
And your loneliness
God Must Be A Boogie Man
He is three
One’s in the middle unmoved
Waiting to show what he sees to the other two
To the one attacking — so afraid
And the one that keeps trying to love and trust
And getting himself betrayed
In the plan
The divine plan
God must be a boogie man!
In the morning there are lovers in the street
They look so high
You brush against a stranger
And you both apologize
Old friends seem indifferent
You must have brought that on
Old bonds have broken down
Love is gone
Oooh love is gone
Written on your spirit this sad song
Love is gone
One’s so sweet
So overly loving and gentle
He lets people into his innermost sacred temple
Blind faith to care
Blind rage to kill
Why’d he let them talk him down
To cheap work and cheap thrills
In the plan
The insulting plan
Which would it be
Mingus one or two or three
Which one do you think he’d want the world to see
Well world opinion’s not a lot of help
When a man’s only trying to find out
How to feel about himself
In the plan
The cock-eyed plan
40
Everything comes and goes
Pleasure moves on too early
And trouble leaves too slow
Just when you’re thinking
You’ve finally got it made
Bad news comes knocking
At your garden gate
Knocking for you
Constant stranger
You’re a brute you’re an angel
You can crawl you can fly too
It’s down to you
It all comes down to you
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I’m frightened by the devil
And I’m drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid
I remember that time you told me you said
“Love is touching souls”
Surely you touched mine
‘Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you’re in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
“Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed”
Oh but you are in my blood
You’re my holy wine
You’re so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
I would still be on my feet
He put a quarter in the Wurlitzer
And he pushed three buttons
And the thing began to whirr
And a bar maid came by
In fishnet stockings and a bow tie
And she said, “Drink up now
It’s gettin’ on time to close.”
“Richard, you haven’t really changed” I said
It’s just that
Now you’re romanticizing some
Pain that’s in your head
You got tombs in your eyes
But the songs you punched are dreamy
Listen.
They talk of love so sweet,
Love so sweet
When are you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh so sweet love can be so sweet.
Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher
And a coffee percolator
And he drinks at home now most nights
With the TV on
And all the house lights left up bright.
I’m gonna blow this damn candle out
I don’t want nobody comin’ over to my table
I’ve got nothing to talk to anybody about.
All good dreamers pass this way
Some day
Hidin’ behind bottles in dark cafes.
Dark cafés
Only a dark cocoon
Before I get my gorgeous wings and fly away
Only a phase
These dark café days.
41
Raised On Robbery
Sweet Sucker Dance
He was sitting in the lounge of the Empire Hotel
He was drinking for diversion
He was thinking for himself
A little money riding on the Maple Leafs
Along comes a lady in lacy sleeves
She says, “let me sit down
You know, drinkin’ alone’s a shame
It’s a shame it’s a crying shame!
Look at those jokers
Glued to that damn hockey game!
Hey honey-you’ve got lots of cash
Bring us round a bottle
And we’ll have some laughs
Gin’s what I’m drinking
I was raised on robbery!”
I almost closed the door
Cancelled on everything we opened up for
Tonight the shadows had their say
Their sad notions of the way
Things really are
Damn these blues!
They’d turn my heart against you
Since I was fool enough
To find romance
I’m trying to convince myself
This is just a dance
We move in measures
Through loves’ changing faces
Needy and nonchalant
Greedy and gracious
Through petty dismissals
And grand embraces
Like it was only a dance
“I’m a pretty good cook
I’m sitting on my groceries!
Come up to my kitchen
I’ll show you my best recipe.
I try and I try but I can’t save a cent
I’m up after midnight cooking
Trying to make my rent
I’m rough but I’m pleasin’
We are survivors
Some get broken
Some get mended
Some can’t surrender
They’re too well defended
Some get lucky
Some are blessed
And some pretend
This is only a dance
“We had a little money once
They were pushing through a four lane highway
Government gave us three thousand dollars
You should have seen it fly away.
First he bought a ‘57 Biscayne
He put it in the ditch
He drunk up all the rest
That son of a bitch
His blood’s bad whiskey
I was raised on robbery!
We’re dancing fools
You and me
Tonight it’s a dance of insecurity
It’s my solo
While you’re away
And shadows have the saddest things to say
You know you ain’t bad looking
I like the way you hold your drinks
Come home with me honey
I ain’t asking for no full length mink!
Hey, where you going
Don’t go yet
Your glass ain’t empty and we just met
You’re mean when you’re loaded
Love
We can’t live without it
Why do we go out and get it
Just to turn around and doubt it
Like we’re scared to care
It’s hard to talk about it
Aw it’s only a dance
Tonight the shadows had their say
There’s a sucker born a day
I heard them say
Born to lose
Am I a sucker to love you?
42
You’re such a sweet love
You’re a proud man
You’re a treasure
Time passes gracefully
Living can be such a pleasure
You make it easy to take it in measures
Like it was only a dance
You think we’re sleeping but
Quietly like rattlesnakes and stars
We have seen the trampled rainbows
In the smoke of cars
I am Lakota
Brave
Sun pity me
I am Lakota
Broken
Moon pity me
I am Lakota
Grave
Shadows stretching
Lakota
Oh pity me
I am Lakota
Weak
Grass pity me
I am Lakota
Faithful
Rocks pity me
I am Lakota
Meek
Standing water
Lakota
Oh pity me
We’re dancing fools
You and me
Tonight it’s a dance of insecurity
It’s my solo
Blue way
Shadows have the saddest things to say
We are survivors
Some get broken
Some get mended
Some can’t surrender
They’re too well defended
Some get lucky
Some are blessed
And some pretend
It’s only a dance!
Lakota
I am Lakota!
Lakota!
Looking at money man
Diggin’ the deadly quotas
Out of balance
Out of hand
We want the land!
Lay down the reeking ore
Don’t you hear the shrieking in the trees?
Everywhere you touch the earth she’s sore
Every time you skin her all things weep
Your money mocks us
Restitution what good can it do?
Kennelled in metered boxes
Red dogs in debt to you!
I am Lakota!
Lakota!
Standing on sacred land
We never sold these Black Hills
To the missile heads
To the power plants
We want the land!
The bullet and the fence broke Lakota
The black coats and the booze broke Lakota
Courts that circumvent choke Lakota
Nothing left to lose
Tell me grandfather
You spoke the fur and feather tongues
Do you hear the whimpering waters
When the tractors come?
I am Lakota!
I am Lakota!
Lakota!
Fighting among ourselves
All we can say with one whole heart
Is we won’t sell
No we’ll never sell
We want the land!
The lonely coyote calls
In the woodlands footprints of a deer
In the barroom poor drunk bastard falls
In the courtroom deaf ears sixty years
Sun pity me
Mother earth
Mother
Moon pity me
Father sky
Father
Shadows
Stretching on the forest floor
Mother earth
Oh pity me
43
Father sky
Father
Grass pity me
Mother earth
Mother
Rocks pity me
Father sky
Father
Water
Standing in a waken manner
Mother earth
Oh pity me
Cool Water
All day I face the barren waste
Without a taste of water
Cool water
Old Dan and I
Our throats slate dry
Our spirits cry out for water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin’ Dan
Some devils had a plan
Buried poison in the sand
Don’t drink it man
It’s in the water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin’ free
Waitin’ up ahead
For you and me
Cool clear water
The nights are cool and I’m a fool
Each star is a pool of water
Cool water
But come the dawn
We carry on
We won’t last long without water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin’ Dan
We’re still in no-man’s land
Dry bones and sand
People never planned here for water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin’ free
Waiting up ahead for you and me
Cool clear water
The shadows sway
They seem to say
Tonight we pray for water
Cool water
And way up there
If you care
Please show us where
There’s good water
Cool clear water
I pulled into the Cactus Tree Motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows
Of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams Amelia — dreams and false alarms.
Amelia
Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way…
But now
They only block the sun
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way…
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all.
I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
It was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Fall of picture post card charms
People will tell you where they’ve gone
They’ll tell you where to go
But till you get there — yourself — you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Other’s just come to harm.
I wish that he was here tonight
It’s so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell Amelia, “It was just a false alarm”
The ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea — like me — she had a dream to fly
Like Icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms.
Maybe I’ve never really loved
I guess that is the truth
I’ve spent my whole life — in clouds — at icy altitudes
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
44
My Best to You
So here’s to you
May your dreams come true
May old father time
Never be unkind
And through the years
Save your smiles and your tears
They’re just souvenirs
They’ll make music in your heart
Both Sides Now
Remember this
Each new day is a kiss
Sent from up above
With an angel’s love
So here’s to you
May your skies be blue
And your love blessed
That’s my best to you
Remember this
Each new day is a kiss
Sent from up above
With an angel’s love
So here’s to you
May your skies be blue
And your love blessed
That’s my very best to you
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way…
But now it’s just another show
You leave ‘em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away…
I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions that I recall
I really don’t know love at all.
Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way…
All but now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, and they tell me that
I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day…
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions that I recall
I really don’t know life
At all
45
Act 1
Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll Days
1.IN FRANCE THEY KISS ON MAIN STREET
Words & Music by JONI MITCHELL
Produced & Arranged by JONI MITCHELL
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Electric guitar: JEFF BAXTER & ROBBEN FORD
Electric piano: VICTOR FELDMAN
Acoustic guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Background vocals: JAMES TAYLOR, GRAHAM NASH,
DAVID CROSBY & JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by HENRY LEWY
From the album The Hissing Of Summer Lawns
P 1975 Asylum Records, courtesy of Asylum Records
2.Ray’s Dad’s Cadillac
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Soprano sax: WAYNE SHORTER
Guitar, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Guest Singer: BRENDA RUSSELL
Engineered by DAN MARNIEN
From the album Night Ride Home
P 1991 Geffen Records, courtesy of Geffen Records
3.You Turn Me On I’m A Radio
Bass: WILTON FELDER
Drums: RUSS KUNKEL
Percussion: BOBBYE HALL
Harmonica: GRAHAM NASH
Guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
From the album For The Roses
6.DANCIN’ CLOWN
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: MANU KATCHÉ
Guitar: MICHAEL LANDAU
Guitars, keyboards, vocals, background vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Guest singers: BILLY IDOL & TOM PETTY
11. Number One
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Organ: STEVEN LINDSEY
Guitars, keyboards, drum programming, orchestration,
vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Guest singer: BENJAMIN ORR
Engineered by DAVID BOTTRILL & MIKE SHIPLEY
From
the album Chalk Mark In A Rain Storm
From the album Chalk Mark In A Rain Storm
7.RIVER
Piano, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
12. The
From the album Blue
P 1971 Warner Bros. Records Inc., courtesy of Reprise Records
8.CHINESE CAFE/UNCHAINED MELODY
Chinese Café: Words & Music by JONI MITCHELL
Unchained Melody: Words & Music by HY ZARET &
ALEX NORTH
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Electric guitar: STEVE LUKATHER
Prophet synth: LARRY WILLIAMS
Acoustic piano, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by HENRY LEWY & SKIP COTTRELL
From the album Wild Things Run Fast
9.Harry’s House/Centerpiece
Harry’s House: Words & Music by JONI MITCHELL
Centerpiece: Words & Music JOHNNY MANDEL &
JON HENDRICKS
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Guitar: LARRY CARLTON
Keyboards: JOE SAMPLE
Trumpets: CHUCK FINDLEY
4.HARLEM IN HAVANA
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Sax: WAYNE SHORTER
Barker: FEMI JIYA
Guitar orchestra, vocals, background vocals: JONI MITCHELL P 1975 Asylum Records, courtesy of Asylum Records
Engineered by FEMI JIYA, DAN MARNIEN & TONY PHILLIPS From the album Taming The Tiger
10. Shades Of Scarlett Conquering
P 1998 Reprise Records, courtesy of Reprise Records
5.CAR ON A HILL
Strings Arranged by DALE OEHLER
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Electric guitar: LARRY CARLTON
Drums, percussion: JOHN GUERIN
Electric piano, vibes: VICTOR FELDMAN
Woodwinds, reeds: TOM SCOTT
Electric guitar: WAYNE PERKINS
Electric piano: JOE SAMPLE
From the album Court And Spark
Windfall
(Everything For Nothing)
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: VINNIE COLAIUTA
Guitars, keyboards, instrumentation, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
3.TROUBLE CHILD
Bass: JIM HUGHART
Trumpet: CHUCK FINDLEY
Electric guitar: DENNIS BUDIMIR
Electric piano: JOE SAMPLE
4.NOT TO BLAME
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: CARLOS VEGA
Pedal steel: GREG LEISZ
Piano, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
From the album Turbulent Indigo
13. Come In From The Cold
5.Nothing Can Be Done
Words by JONI MITCHELL
Bass, percussion: LARRY KLEIN
Music by LARRY KLEIN & JONI MITCHELL
Bass, guitar, keyboards: LARRY KLEIN
Percussion: ALEX ACUÑA
Acoustic guitar, Billatron, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL Percussion: ALEX ACUÑA
Guitar: BILL DILLON
Acoustic guitar, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Edited version; full-length from the album Night Ride Home
Guest singer: DAVID BAERWALD
Co-produced by JONI MITCHELL & LARRY KLEIN
Act 2
The Light is Hard to Find
1. COURT AND SPARK
Bass: JIM HUGHART
Acoustic guitar, electric guitar: LARRY CARLTON
2.No Apologies
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
Bass, acoustic guitar, keyboards, drum programming,
Engineered by DAN MARNIEN & TONY PHILLIPS
From the album Taming The Tiger
6.COMES LOVE
Written by LEW BROWN, SAMMY STEPT & CHARLES TOBIAS
Arranged & Conducted by VINCE MENDOZA
Orchestra: THE LONDON PHILHARMONIC
Bass: CHUCK BERGHOFER
Drums: PETER ERSKINE
Muted Trumpet: MARK ISHAM
Vocal: JONI MITCHELL
Co-produced by LARRY KLEIN & JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by GEOFF FOSTER
From the album Both Sides Now
7.MOON AT THE WINDOW
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Oberheim synth: RUSSELL FERRANTE
Electric guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by HENRY LEWY & SKIP COTTRELL
From the album Wild Things Run Fast
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8.Blue
From the album Blue
9.Tax Free
Music by LARRY KLEIN & JONI MITCHELL
Bass, keyboards: LARRY KLEIN
Drums, drum samples: VINNIE COLAIUTA
Guitars: MIKE LANDAU
Synthesizer programming: THOMAS DOLBY
Jimmy Swaggart sermon reenacted by: ROD STEIGER
Assorted keyboards, vocals, background vocals,
vocal samples: JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by MIKE SHIPLEY
From the album Dog Eat Dog
10. THE WOLF THAT LIVES IN LINDSEY
Congas: DON ALIAS
Water gongs: EMIL RICHARDS
Acoustic guitar, vocal: JONI MITCHELL
WOLVES: Contributed by the mystery
Engineered by HENRY LEWY & STEVE KATZ
From the album Mingus
11. Hana
Percussion: PAULINHO DaCOSTA
Soprano sax: BOB SHEPPARD
All other instrumentation, keyboards, synth drums,
From the album Shine
P 2007 Joni Mitchell, courtesy of Joni Mitchell
12. HEJIRA
Acoustic bass: CHUCK BERGHOFER
Electric bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
Engineered by Geoff Foster
From the album Travelogue
P 2002 Nonesuch Records, courtesy of Nonesuch Records
13. Stay In Touch
Trumpet: MARK ISHAM
14. NIGHT RIDE HOME
Bass, percussion: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: CRICKET
Pedal steel guitar: BILL DILLON
Guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Act 3
Love Has Many Faces
1.YOU’RE MY THRILL
Words & Music by JAY GORNEY & SIDNEY CLARE
Co-Produced by JONI MITCHELL & LARRY KLEIN
2.THE CRAZY CRIES OF LOVE
Words by DON FREED & JONI MITCHELL
Music by JONI MITCHELL
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums: JOHN GUERIN
Sax: WAYNE SHORTER
Guitar, keyboards, vocals, background vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Engineered by DAN MARNIEN & TONY PHILLIPS
3.LOVE PUTS ON A NEW FACE
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Sax: WAYNE SHORTER
Engineered by FEMI JIYA, DAN MARNIEN & TONY PHILIPS
4.BORDERLINE
Trumpet: AMBROSE
Acoustic guitar, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Additional Trumpet Engineered by MATT LEE & STEVE WESSING
5.A STRANGE BOY
Percussion: BOBBYE HALL
Lead guitar: LARRY CARLTON
Rhythm guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
From the album Hejira
6.YOU DREAM FLAT TIRES
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
B-3 organ: BILLY PRESTON
Tenor sax: PLAS JOHNSON
7.LOVE
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
Trumpet: DEREK WATKINS
8.All I Want
Guitar: JAMES TAYLOR
Dulcimer, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
From
the album Blue
9.BE COOL
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
Piano: HERBIE HANCOCK
Tenor sax: PLAS JOHNSON
10. Yvette In English
Words by JONI MITCHELL & DAVID CROSBY
Music by JONI MITCHELL
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Guest singers: KRIS KELLO & CHARLES VALENTINO
11. Just Like This Train
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Woodwinds, reeds: TOM SCOTT
Electric guitar: LARRY CARLTON
Piano: JOE SAMPLE
Acoustic guitar, vocals, background vocals: JONI MITCHELL
12. Carey
Bass, guitar: STEPHEN STILLS
Conga: Milt Holland
From the album Blue
13. The Only Joy In Town
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Guitar, keyboards, omnichord, oboe, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Act 4
If You Want Me
I’ll Be In The Bar
1.Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter
Bass: JACO PASTORIUS
Shaker: DON ALIAS
Ankle bells: ALEX ACUÑA
Electric guitar, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
The split-tongued spirit: BOYD ELDER
From the album Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter
2.TWO GREY ROOMS
String Arrangement by JEREMY LUBBOCK
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
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3.GOD MUST BE A BOOGIE MAN
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
Guest voices: KRIS, VAL, PATTIE
4.DOWN TO YOU
Produced by JONI MITCHELL
Strings Arranged by TOM SCOTT
Horns, woodwinds: TOM SCOTT
Piano, clavinet, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Guest singer: SUSAN WEBB
5.A CASE OF YOU
Drums: BOBBYE HALL
Acoustic guitar: JAMES TAYLOR
From the album Blue
6.THE LAST TIME I SAW RICHARD
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
7.Raised On Robbery
Bass: MAX BENNETT
Sax: TOM SCOTT
Electric guitar: ROBBIE ROBERTSON
8.SWEET SUCKER DANCE
Music by CHARLES MINGUS
Produced by JONI MITCHELL
Bass: JACO PASTORIUS
Electric piano: HERBIE HANCOCK
9.Lakota
Music by JONI MITCHELL & LARRY KLEIN
Bass, keyboards: LARRY KLEIN
Drums, percussion: MANU KATCHÉ
Vocals, background vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Guest singer: IRON EYES CODY
10. COOL WATER
Words & Music by BOB NOLAN with
revised lyrics by JONI MITCHELL
Bass: LARRY KLEIN
Drums, percussion: MANU KATCHÉ
Guitars, keyboards, vocals, background
Guest singer: WILLIE NELSON
11. Amelia
Drums: BRIAN BLADE
12. Both Sides Now
Co-Produced by LARRY KLEIN & JONI MITCHELL
13. MY BEST TO YOU
Written by GENE WILLADSEN & ISHAM JONES
Bass, percussion, keyboards, vocals: JONI MITCHELL
Most of this music was assembled at home.
Joni was assisted by Matt Lee and Steve Wessing.
Additional mastering was provided by
Bernie Grundman.
From the album Mingus
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