Sitting in a gold chair, singing into a gold microphone, Joni Mitchell was one of the more holy centrepieces during the recent Los Angeles FireAid benefit concert. Performing 'Both Sides Now', even the grandeur of her royal appearance was no match for the aura that surrounded her during one perfect moment of musical unity. After all, there really is no match for someone like her at all, considering the many ways she continues to be a guiding force in today's landscape.

However, while the physical embellishments certainly made her look the part, Mitchell could have dropped the glistening façade without anyone so much as batting an eyelid, as her music and artistry do all the talking instead. Comparing new and old artists is an interesting game, just as placing the contemporary landscape against the structures of the old music business seems nearly redundant.

In Mitchell's case, however, her impact is far more ingrained in the fabrics of musical society, not just regarding the sounds themselves but her attitudes, mindset, and ability to coax the space out of the perils of uncertainty. To be able to do this, however, means having done it time and time again, writing and recording against the impossibilities of an industry so fickle and destined to pull its artists apart piece by piece before they even get going.

For Mitchell, these challenges become fodder for greatness, a means of moving forward, and strength to thrive even when the confidence to do so seems nowhere to be seen. Today, musicians are faced with countless decisions, each presenting delicate opportunities to either surge forward or break entirely. Social media comes with its own risks, and artistic identity is more important now than ever. From Mitchell's story and journey, however, there's a lot to learn about navigating such hurdles and making genuinely great and lasting art in the process.

Mitchell has sat at the intersection of several transformative periods throughout music history, barely faltering each time. Aside from finding her footing as a definitive voice of the counterculture movement, she surged forward at the end of the era, creating music that took the anxieties and paranoia of moving into a new reality and transforming them into art. Instead of rolling with the punches or chasing pop hits, she remained authentic to her message, knowing that anything worth listening to would only ever come from within.

A real turning point came with the release of Blue, which not only set a new standard for singer-songwriters but also felt deeply relevant amid a time of societal transition despite its delicate subject matter. This was intentional - Mitchell understood the risks of what she was doing but poured her entire heart and soul into it anyway. At the time, the energy and excitement that once defined the counterculture movement, with its peace signs and flower power, had faded, leaving her feeling lost and out of place.

With Blue, however, she leaned into this fear and landed on a different brand of artistic beauty, all while staking her claim on a specific time and place. "It's a description of the times," she said in Michelle Mercer's novel Will You Take Me As I Am. "There were so many sinking, but I had to keep thinking I could make it through the waves. You watched that high of the hippie thing descend into drug depression. Right after Woodstock, then we went through a decade of basic apathy where my generation sucked its thumb and then just decided to be greedy and pornographic."

It's almost as if this made Mitchell even more poised and ready to tackle anything the industry wanted to throw in her direction, particularly as with every passing problem that comes at the tail-end of any transitionary period, she hoists her flag, battling the opposition through art and by being the voice of a generation. Moreover, Mitchell doesn't need to possess all the answers at any given time, she trusts her heart to know what's right and stands up for what she believes in.

By her 15th record, Turbulent Indigo, Mitchell had long learned the power of her platform to incite change. Released in 1994, one of the tracks, 'Sex Kills', was written at the time of the Los Angeles riots, addressing several societal issues, like the cost of living, shootings, and environmental issues. "This is a song about America," she once said, explaining elsewhere that "I think there is more ugliness. I think it's on the increase. Especially towards women."

Many of the songs on the record tackle different variations of exploitation, including the many versions that lurk within the dark corners of the music industry itself. For Mitchell, if something feels unjust or off the mark, she speaks up about it in her heart, living by her own mantras the only way she knows how. This includes attempts to shun the discrepancies that exist within the digital age with platforms like Spotify and her inability to join in with the tools that others deem normal or necessary.

Throughout each cycle or decade, she had existed as a stark reminder of the power of art with real depth. With every period of transition, there's always pressure on artists to remain focused without losing touch - with audiences and changing expectations, attitudes, and vernacular. It's a constant balancing act, but one Mitchell does well, often without knowing exactly how, except for the broader understanding that trusting yourself during turbulent times is often all that's needed.

The cheer that erupted just before Mitchell's performance at FireAid felt heavy with the weight of all those who continue to appreciate and understand her sheer importance during this time. Even before she fully emerged on stage, the raucous welcome set the perfect tone for her rendition of 'Both Sides Now' - a performance infused with the depth of someone who has done this time and again, each time tugging at the frayed edges of a broken society with words and melodies that call for new beginnings.

For a track she wrote in her 20s, the words of this and many other songs seem more important now than ever. Even as she laments some of life's biggest challenges, like loving and losing in the haze of not knowing what's coming or going ("Looked at clouds that way / But now they only block the sun"), her words seem weighted by the significance of allowing love and open-mindedness in, almost like an old friend recalling tales of old, when their mistakes centred around everything left unsaid and undone.

Mitchell's enduring presence serves as a reminder of what the music industry always needs to navigate changing times: hope and togetherness. Unity is one of music's greatest strengths, and Mitchell has stood by it through many pivotal moments. It also broadly captures the meaning of emotional connection in music in more subtle, albeit powerful ways, proving that even if things are as fickle as a soft breeze, there is always beauty to be found in perseverance and not letting uncertainty destroy your path to self-revelation.