A heavy message from Ms Mitchell

by Mike Daly
Age (Australia)
March 18, 1983

Joni Mitchell has decided to be a rock 'n' roller — for the moment. That was the heavily amplified message delivered at Red Rocks on Wednesday night.

The Canadian-born singer sang with a muscular, sprawling brace of songs whose immediate need to merge into one another seemed to merge into one another seemed to override the throbbing power of her band.

She is that elegant figure on stage in black beret and black blonde hair spilled over her black blouse and black pants, a perfect match. But what a pity those lyrics had to be wrested from the electric music, especially as Joni Mitchell is a superb and compassionate lyricist, a poet unmatched in pop.

She played cordless amplified guitar and sang occasionally, passionately to concentrate on vocals. On the other hand, the bass player was Larry Klein, a sharp, fluent musician who wrote most of the charts last year. Drummer Vincent Colaiuta laid down complex rhythms with subtler jazz underpinnings. And Michael Landau, keyboards, playing rhythm but sometimes soloing, and guitarist Mike Landau ripped through screaming blues breaks. It all came as something for Mitchell's call it says something for Mitchell's willingness to accept the uncompromising concert repertoire. A great part of the two-hour performance (broken by a short interval) was a blast from the present, with a few gentle reminders of the past.

"Woodstock" was the real spark of recognition, and slowed tempo. The stage lighting began when Joni Mitchell sat at the piano behind the lovely lilting "For Free," a lovely, lilting piece given studied grace.

This solo spot heralded the most poignant moments of the evening. A few of the favorites the crowd had been waiting for. Joni on acoustic guitar; the happy sensuality of "A Case of You," the wistful "Little Green," companied hesitantly on a dulcimer; "Amelia," a haunting soaring anthem to wanderlust and loneliness, both in voice and instrument to its feet and the interval.

The band was back with a vengeance for a second set. k.d. lang joined for the piece on the new "Dog Eat Dog" album, "Snakes and Ladders," and for "Ladies Man."

"Refuge From the Roads," from the "Hejira" album, gained new momentum before the outrageous, heaven-bent "Dreamland" and "Otis and Marlena" ("You're so Sincere"). Baby I don't care, with Lang's all-out singing and screaming.

Mitchell's piano ballad "Solid Love" set the scene for her nostalgic encore. "Come in From the Cold," Mitchell at piano reminisced over childhood. Then "Help Me," then "Turn Me On I'm A Radio" was a blast. "Free Man in Paris," Georgia was what the audience wanted. Then "Big Yellow Taxi," propelled by "Love," the jazzy rendition of her first hit, the stage lights crashed down onto the side of the stage during the song. But Joni didn't miss a beat although it was an anxious moment.

She lost her words during the solo on her old hit 'Both Sides Now', which may have been a delayed reaction to the incident, and was helped by the word-perfect crowd. She sauntered offstage, still playing guitar as the encore calls began, and returned with the band for a thumping version of 'I Heard It Through The Grapevine'.

And it was over. No more encores, which was justifiable, after two hours and two dozen songs. The saddest aspect of the concert was the inaudible words to songs like 'Edith and the Kingpin' and 'In France They Kiss on Main Street'. If Joni Mitchell had toured solo, every word would have been heard and just as many people would have packed the halls to see her.