Joni Mitchell: Hejira (1976)
Every time I'm confronted with modern generations' largely justified obsession with Stevie Nicks (having the ability to sing without AutoTune being such an unusual talent nowadays), I ask myself, "don't they know about the 1970s' true singer-songwriter GOAT, Joni Mitchell?"
I'm talking male OR female -- mic drop!
Don't get me wrong, I love me some Stevie (and many of the dude songwriters too), but every time I spin one of Mitchell's classic works, I'm consistently stunned at the superhuman scale of her artistry, and her eighth studio album, the 50-year-old Hejira, is no exception.
Its title was adapted from the Arabic word "hijrah," signifying a "migration," "journey," or more enticingly, "running away honorably" (*), and that's precisely the nuanced definition -- a necessary escape to clear her head and reclaim her independence -- that appealed to Joni.
Indeed, many of Hejira's lyrics were composed during a solo cross-country drive from New York to California (**) and when combined with some of Mitchell's most eclectic and adventurous musical backdrops to date, it's no wonder these songs have stood the test of time.
Examples of this include recounting her fleeting affair with actor Sam Shepard on the opening "Coyote," relating to aviator Amelia Earhart's ill-fated flight on "Amelia," sharing the disorienting displacement of the touring life on "Black Crow," and finally making her peace with the transience and anonymity of the open highway on "Refuge of the Roads."
But the purest expression of the album's core theme inevitably arrives via its title track, where Joni accelerates away from her demons in a duet with the "singing," undulating, multi-tracked fretless bass of the one and only Jaco Pastorius, who not coincidentally also plays on the other songs cited above.
Similarly intentional was his absence on the remaining cuts, which took Joni to Memphis' Beale Street ("Furry Sings the Blues"), to a "Blue Motel Room" in Savannah for this jazzy lounge shuffle, and to a "A Strange Boy" who joined her for part of the trek.
Finally, there's the eight-minute, non-rhyming monologue of "Song for Sharon," which is structured as a letter to a childhood friend set to a repetitive, hypnotic rhythm section provided by session aces Max Bennett (bass), John Guerin (drums), and Larry Carlton (guitar).
So much musical and lyrical depth ironically put a dent in Hejira's sales compared to more accessible predecessors, but the critical community lost their ever-loving minds and many still regard this as the artistic high-water mark of Mitchell's incomparable career.
Can't say I disagree ... and neither will you if you choose to join Joni on her "honorable escape."
** Obviously depicted by the cover art, this was allegedly accomplished without a valid driver's license, often sporting a dark wig and sunglasses, while adopting various aliases along the way.
More Joni Mitchell: Ladies of the Canyon, Blue, Court and Spark.
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