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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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030491
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1994-03-25
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<text id=91TT0468>
<title>
Mar. 04, 1991: Joni Mitchell:Navigator Of The Deep
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
Mar. 04, 1991 Into Kuwait!
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
MUSIC, Page 74
Navigator Of the Deep
</hdr><body>
<p>Joni Mitchell finds the way to her best record in a decade
</p>
<p>By Jay Cocks--Reported by Elizabeth L. Bland/Los Angeles
</p>
<p> "Look," she says, entirely untroubled on the subject, "I
don't have a very good education. I'm musically ignorant. I'm
intuitive. All I am is a freshness freak."
</p>
<p> If you buy this quick conversational self-portrait of the
artist as an inspector of milk-carton dates, even for a second,
the impression is immediately erased when Joni Mitchell's new
album, Night Ride Home, kicks in with the title cut. The
instrumentation is spare, the melody light and tight as a
fresh-spun web, the lyrics casual, conversational and smooth
as a stone in a Zen garden. It takes a good deal of practical
education to make something as intricate as her music seem so
simple. And--yes, all right--so fresh.
</p>
<p> Night Ride Home is Mitchell's first album in almost three
years, her best in 10. It's easy to like and hard to forget,
and it shows that Mitchell--for all her restless musical
experimentation--has an undiminished skill in navigating some
of the deeper estuaries of the mainstream. The album summons
fond memories of Mitchell's formative years--the times of
Woodstock and Court and Spark--but it's not an exercise in
nostalgia.
</p>
<p> Night Ride Home follows Mitchell's 1988 Chalk Mark in a Rain
Storm and comes on the heels, or paws, of her 1985 Dog Eat Dog,
an intensely inward effort full of dank social speculation
whose lack of wide acceptance is still a bit irksome to the
singer-composer. "It was mistimed," she speculates. "It was
viewed as negative and preacherly at the time of its release.
It was an angry album." Mitchell seems heartened by the warm,
early interest accorded the new record, and a little
suspicious, as if she has produced something so attractive that
it must be superficial. "It's not shallow," she says. "But it's
not making you look at hard facts as much as Dog Eat Dog."
</p>
<p> If music is, as Mitchell defines it, "a diagram of emotion,"
then Night Ride Home is a sort of filling-station road map of
the heart. The 10 songs, including an adaptation of Yeats' The
Second Coming called Slouching Towards Bethlehem, represent
alternate routes to the kind of altered state some people call
romance, and others irresolution. "I want things that match my
emotional inner life," Mitchell says. "I like dissonance
running through things because our lives are full of ongoing
dissonances. Why not put a terrible tension running even
through your pretty chords?"
</p>
<p> All the musicians on the record--including Mitchell's
husband of eight years, bass player Larry Klein--have some
jazz background. They know, as Mitchell puts it, "how to see
around corners." They can lend her delicate rhythms a strong
foundation without blowing them away. Mitchell's own prominent
acoustic guitar gives the whole album a kind of casual, offhand
luster. "Initially, I was taken for a folk singer," Mitchell
reflects. "Then folk singing was out of vogue and folk rock was
in. Then for a while I was considered to be a country musician.
My music [now] is not jazz. I'm a bit of an explorer."
</p>
<p> Not just in music either. Mitchell, 47, has an exhibition
of paintings traveling in Europe, and her photographs adorn the
cover of Night Ride Home. She prefers to stay off the road--it's been eight years since her last tour--and likes to work
in the deep night because she craves the quiet. "I'm a vampire
now, full fledged," she says. When she speaks her mind, she has
the unguarded passion of someone talking to herself late at
night. Her thoughts on everything from photography to the gulf
conflict are spoken as her songs are written and sung: in a
tone of quiet asperity, but with public emphasis. "If this is
a holy war," she muses about the gulf, taking a drag on one of
her frequent cigarettes, "God is pissed at us, and damn right."
Just goes to show: a little dissonance does no harm. And it can
certainly make a fine Night Ride Home.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>