IN HER INTRODUCTION alone, Karen O'Brien manages an admirable feat: dropping references to Friedrich Nietzsche, Bob Dylan, Hillary and Bill Clinton and Meg Mathews within mere pages of each other. The common thread, it transpires, is the sheer reach of the artist in question: rooted in the high-falutin' world of coffee house bohemia, for sure, but such a modern commonplace that she could give a future president the name for his daughter (taken from Mitchell's Chelsea Morning), and create the hippy-chick look occasionally "rocked" by the erstwhile Mrs Gallagher.
In fairness, ephemeral points like these are a rarity. This is a book that seeks to decisively shine light on Mitchell's artistic importance; and, thanks to O'Brien's capable writing and seemingly endless research, it impressively succeeds. In particular, the chapters about her decisive arrival - between 1969 and 1970 - are a joy, confidently placing her within the context of the '60s counterculture and its relationship with mainstream America. On occasion, in fact, the text masters its themes to the point that it teeters on the brink of social history.
In keeping with all that, the book frequently alights on an all too familiar subject: Mitchell's recurrent clashes with cloth-headed sexism, particularly pronounced during the first phase of her progress. "Joni Mitchell is 90 per cent Virgin," read a tag-line on an early record company ad, before the copywriter sketched out her first album in terms of a long-delayed female orgasm, finally brought on by some big-hearted male hippy. Groovy times, eh?
Printed from the official Joni Mitchell website. Permanent link: https://jonimitchell.com/library/view.cfm?id=5953
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