Court and Spark - A Confession
First off, I love Joni
Mitchell--at least, I loved her first three albums: Song to A Seagull, Clouds
and Blue. I still play them - I own them on CD - and the music is singable and
wonderfully acoustic; indeed, I can still play some of her stuff in the unique
open guitar tunings she used, and I prefer her version of "Michael From
Mountains" (which she wrote) to Judy Collins’ warmed-over, singsong pap.
I knew, back in the day - and I know now - that Court and Spark was cool, and is cool. But I never owned the album. Never. Never bought it, never sat and consciously listened to it, never grokked it.
Court and Spark was Joni Mitchell's fifth album, coming after For The Roses. My college roommate listened to it incessantly, and to my ear back then (trying to tune it out) it was stream-of-consciousness, non-melodic meandering that made me think of someone repeating tired piano motifs while contemplating her navel, on acid. I thought it was ugly noise: pretentious vocals with ponderous, cliche-ridden phrases and unpleasant forays into jazz riffs with some hard rock thrown in for torture. Folk with fangs, I called it. But cool, yesssss---and, uncool, me, for cringing at the sound of it.
Fast forward to 2006.Reading
Oh, ICK!
The first two cuts are okay, maybe. Then, it makes me nervous. I can wax nostalgically in all manner of hippie hyperbole, and I can say I'm glad I've heard it. I will probably pretend I think it's cool. But it's not going on my IPod.
I'll probably have to check out "For the Roses," too.
So, you can beat me now.
I knew, back in the day - and I know now - that Court and Spark was cool, and is cool. But I never owned the album. Never. Never bought it, never sat and consciously listened to it, never grokked it.
Court and Spark was Joni Mitchell's fifth album, coming after For The Roses. My college roommate listened to it incessantly, and to my ear back then (trying to tune it out) it was stream-of-consciousness, non-melodic meandering that made me think of someone repeating tired piano motifs while contemplating her navel, on acid. I thought it was ugly noise: pretentious vocals with ponderous, cliche-ridden phrases and unpleasant forays into jazz riffs with some hard rock thrown in for torture. Folk with fangs, I called it. But cool, yesssss---and, uncool, me, for cringing at the sound of it.
Fast forward to 2006.
Oh, ICK!
The first two cuts are okay, maybe. Then, it makes me nervous. I can wax nostalgically in all manner of hippie hyperbole, and I can say I'm glad I've heard it. I will probably pretend I think it's cool. But it's not going on my IPod.
I'll probably have to check out "For the Roses," too.
So, you can beat me now.
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