Joni and Me

by Rachel Z
Jazziz
July 2003

When Rachel Z was a teenager, Joni Mitchell's music helped her navigate through life's awkward years. During the early '90s, Rachel was one of modern jazz's most promising young keyboardists, and Mitchell's music shed light and hope on the newfound rigors of adulthood. Today, Rachel has five solo albums under her belt, including TRUST THE UNIVERSE, her widely lauded 1992 debut; ON THE MILKY WAY EXPRESS, a dazzling homage to her friend and mentor Wayne Shorter; and the recently released MOON AT THE WINDOW, a lovely tribute to Mitchell, wherein Rachel and her Z Trio (bassist Patricia Des Lauriers and drummer Bobbie Rae) interpret a dozen Mitchell compositions. For this issue, we invited Rachel to discuss her ongoing relationship with Mitchell and her music. Here's how she replied:

I first met Joni Mitchell at her house in Bel Aire, California, on a dark and rainy night about eight years ago. I was taken there by Wayne Shorter, with whom I was apprenticing and recording his Grammy-winning CD HIGH LIFE. Those days were charged with a sense of learning and adventure - with daily trips to the bookstore, chanting, and pilgrimages to the laser-disc store, where we'd rent movies and later study the film scores deep into the evening. So it was another great day when Wayne said that he was going to play on a song from a forthcoming Joni Mitchell CD and invited me along to her house for the session. We took Wayne's red Mercedes convertible up and over the canyon road and sped along Mulholland Drive until we reached Joni's gated estate.

The legend herself answered the door, said hello, and hugged Wayne. She led us through her Spanish-style house and into her impressive studio where she and Wayne proceeded to make beautiful, intense music together. Joni followed every line that Wayne played, and it sounded to me as if they were singing a duet. Wayne told me to check out her brilliant phrasing; he said it was very original, like Miles Davis. Her reciprocal respect for him made me happy because I knew Wayne was - and still is - a great genius.

I was in heaven! Kindly, Joni asked me if anyone ever wrote lyrics for my music. I said no one had. Maybe I should have invited to her to write some, but, alas, I was too much in awe. At the time I was working on A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN, my second CD for Columbia Records, which was intended as a tribute to women artists throughout history. I was impressed with the focus and determination that Joni brought to her own music. She was, after all, a big star. But there was no bravado in her manner - only a desire to produce great pieces of art. I was thrilled to gain insight into her life and creative processes.

Weeks later, I was at a party with Wayne Shorter and his entourage of "people trying to save the world with love," as I like to think of them. Joni was there, sitting on a couch. I took a seat beside her. She told me that when people talk to plants, electrons heat up and cause them to grow. She thought about things at deep levels like that, which made me realize that I had a lot of artistic growing to do. More thinking was needed - more time alone with my art, perhaps. I wrote a song for her called "Talking to Electrons."

Music has always been the one consistent teacher in my life, and Joni's music has been with me since kindergarten. In music class, it was simply a joy to sing the catchy melody of "Both Sides Now." But after several years of writing, recording, touring, and simply living, I found that her music struck deeper, more resonant chords within me. "Both Sides Now" seemed to have its own elegant soul. It expressed and captured a multitude of feelings and reminded me to look at life, love, and clouds from both sides as well, without judgment.

I have relied on Joni's music at odd times in my life. In high school I played her songs - "Blue," "Help Me," "Big Yellow Taxi," and "All I Want" - with my friend Lyne Harrison, who had a great singing voice. We learned to dream of great things by listening to songs like "All I Want," and I became more sensitive to the feelings of others by listening closely to "River" ("I made my baby cry/I made my baby say goodbye"). With "Big Yellow Taxi" - "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot" - Joni also made me aware of the dangers of overdeveloping our planet.

After that amazing period in LA with Wayne Shorter, love came and went, my record deals evaporated, and I had a musical crisis. For one thing, I wanted to sing. So I rebelled against jazz and started a rock band called Peacebox. I spent time alone, during which I revisted Joni's BLUE and WILD THINGS RUN FAST CDs. Through those albums, I began to understand life and love in adult terms. I realized that as we live more life, we go through more pain, and reach deeper understandings of ourselves, others, and our relationships to others. I now understand the sting of Joni's "Ladies Man" ("Why are you trying to make a man of me/Couldn't you just love me"). I learned to choose friends and lovers wisely or get burned. I was drawn to "Moon at the Window" and its engaging question: "Is it possible to learn how to care and yet not care?" Eventually I learned how to stay separate and yet connected to the right man. Because of Joni's delicate "Love," I was reminded of the almost prayerful dictum, "Love does not ask for love/love gives love."

Breaking through personal fears, I began, for the first time, to write songs with lyrics. I realized that various distractions had kept me from growing. I had always felt like going off to Paris or Italy when things became difficult with my own music. But finally I decided to commit to my Z Trio and tour in a van or boat or on bicycles - whatever it took. In 2001, we recorded ON THE MILKY WAY EXPRESS, a tribute to Wayne Shorter. Earlier this year, we recorded MOON AT THE WINDOW, our interpretations of a dozen Joni Mitchell compositions. I was hoping to hear her comments about the album, but it was almost impossible to track her down. She has become something of a recluse. I think she is suspicious of the whole music industry, especially of many of the new artists who speak without ever really saying anything. For Joni, music has always been an arrt form wherein nothing matters as much as substance and heart. Furthermore, in today's industry, growing older is becoming taboo, which is a tragedy for us all because growing older and wiser is a gift worth receiving.

While touring in support of MOON AT THE WINDOW, I accepted an offer to join Peter Gabriel's touring band. That meant I had to take a break from the Z Trio before a scheduled series of dates last October. Immediately after the tour with Gabriel ended in February 2003, the Z Trio was back on the road. We had some amazing experiences playing our "Joni jazz." At London's Barbicon Center, we opened for Dee Dee Bridgewater. During that show, I realized fully how wonderful it is to play music that people know and love. When we subsequently toured through the United States, many girls from ages 10 to 60 told me they recognized the songs and that they were raised on Joni's music. The gigs felt incredible because people showed so much love for our interpretations of Joni's songs, which after all, had served as rich, musical tapestries in their lives.

Many of my high school buddies who were fans of Joni but unfamiliar with jazz showed up to support the tour. In Dayton, Cleveland, and Columbus, audience enthusiasm rose to unprecedented heights. At one club, we were even mooned by enthusiastic fans standing outside of a big glass window. Several men told me that "River" was one of their favorite songs because it showed that girls hurt guys, too. It really meant a lot to take Joni's music to the people in this way. Every night I dedicated her "Free Man in Paris" to our drummer Bobby Rae because he loves Paris and had great memories of being both a model and musician there. Our bassist on the tour, Nicky Parrott, really loved "Both Sides Now" and played a gorgeous solo every night. We plan to continue our travels soon after my latest tour with Peter Gabriel ends, in early July.

So far this year, the only bummers have been: 1) the biggest snowstorm of the decade before our Boston gig, 2) the cyanide scare in Washington, D.C. on the night of our Blues Alley gig, and 3) that we were not invited to an 11-hour celebration of Joni Mitchell's music at New York's Symphony Space in April. The director said that we weren't welcome "due to stylistic differences," which was totally perplexing. We had been touring with this music for a year but were not even invited to play it in my own backyard.

(Is it possible to learn how to care and yet not care?) Nonetheless, as artists we must take rejection gracefully and continue giving for the love of the art. Most people will come around eventually. Until then, it's important for all of us in jazz to support each other and maintain positive - even loving - relationships. Metaphorically speaking, we must water the flowers of our mates, fellow musicians, and business partners. As I mentioned, many fans have approached me, ecstatic to have heard Joni's songs reinterpreted by the trio. But they have also raised the disappointing possibility that Joni may not tour or record any more due to the presently chilly climate in the music industry. I find it sad that she may not continue, although I recognize that trying to speak from one's soul is difficult in these confusing times. Whatever happens, I hope that she will continue to bring joy to future generations. For my part, I will continue to share Joni's music because her artistry strikes a chord that resonates through so many barriers and taps into what we are all trying to be: decent human beings. And I will continue to develop my own music, as well, because if Joni Mitchell has done nothing else, she's inspired me to get busy with the art of being myself.