Review of Live Show at the Troubadour, Los Angeles

Steven Rosen, Sounds, 9 December 1972

When Joni Mitchell makes one of her rare appearances at the Los Angeles Troubadour, there are sure to be sold-out shows throughout her engagement, and indeed capacity audiences filled the club every night of her recent four-day stay.

When a performer of any calibre stays out of the public (and critics’) eyes, the immediate reaction of the press is to pounce, criticise and crucify. (A point in case is the recent re-emergence of Joe Cocker.)

Miss Mitchell defies negative criticism and garners favourable critiques with every project she pursues, be it her successful return to the stage or her creative knack of producing timeless and poignant albums. And Sunday evening (her final show) was no exception: two and a half hours of the only substitute for Joni on record – Joni in person.

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As soon as Joni Mitchell stepped on stage, she was presented with a glorious bouquet of roses and it was for the roses that she turned in a set of warm, tender and sensitive music.

‘Big Yellow Taxi’ sparked immediate recognition in the Troub audience, as Miss Mitchell’s humorous but brutal lines, ‘Took all the trees, put ’em in a tree museum/And charged the people a dollar and a half just to see ’em,’ etched grins on all her listeners’ faces.

Joni’s uncanny use of double entendre metaphors, unquestionably clever rhyme schemes and poignant lyrics make every Mitchell composition a challenge and pleasure to listen to. Unlike her contemporaries, whose newer material has none of the vitality or freshness of their earlier material – notably James Taylor and Carole King – Joni is consistent in producing noteworthy and valuable albums.

‘Sometimes it takes a personal crisis to turn you on the spiritual path. During your childhood and your teens you go through many crises. Everybody should go through it: it’s a good experience. After a crisis you go through a re-evaluation of yourself. Anybody with a smile on their face is enlightened. Everybody knows more than you! I walked into a restaurant a while back and I saw three waitresses and thought they were the Trinity. I moved closer to see what they were talking about and maybe see what it was all about, and I saw they were all wearing black diamond earrings. While going through some guru books, it said that some people look to Mecca, some to the cross and some to the City National Bank. But I decided they were all wrong. It was happening right here in the restaurant.’

Her enlightening introduction over with, she launched into ‘Barangrill’ off her newest album, For The Roses. Not knowing where to turn or find an answer, Joni sees her salvation in her three waitress friends: ‘And you think she knows something/By the second refill/You think she’s enlightened as she totals your bill/You say, “Show me the way to Barangrill”.’

Joni’s approach to music is an honest and sincere one. Her songs are personal appeals that find their ways into universal hearts. Like Joan Baez, who has likewise been faithful to her cause, Joni is a living example of how truth may be translated into beauty.

‘While looking for the guru, I found a book on the spiritual development of Beethoven. I wrote him a song and was gonna call it “Roll Over Beethoven Revisited”, but I decided to call it “Ludwig’s Tune”. No disrespect intended.’

This was her first piece on the ivories and immediately Miss Mitchell’s flowing, bubbly playing could be heard ringing through the club. Besides listening to her delicate lyrics, it is possible to understand what she is trying to say by simply listening to her music. One line from ‘Ludwig’s Tune’, ‘Strike every chord that you feel’, sums up this non-verbal communication between artist and audience.

The lady from the canyon performed ‘For Free’ with some instrumental (clarinet) backup by Tommy Scott, who plays woodwinds and reeds on the Roses LP and turned in a delightful solo while sitting incognito somewhere in the audience. He then joined Joni on stage for ‘Let The Wind Carry Me’ – another new composition.

‘Cold Blue Steel and Sweet Fire’ was Joni’s comment on heroin addicts, a lyrical pinnacle in her career. ‘Bashing in veins for peace/Cold blue steel and sweet fire/Fall into lady release,’ Joni sang as the audience sat hushed while her crystal voice pierced the silence of the hall.

Dressed in her classic floor-length dress, sunshine hair spilling onto her shoulders, and snowy white teeth reflecting from the stage lights, Joni delved into a little bit of ‘pop’ talk. ‘I always wanted to have a hit. I never had a hit, you know, so I made one up. I decided there were some ways to make a hit, increase the chances. The DJs have to like it, so you put a long part at the beginning and the end so the DJs can talk over it. Take a tender situation and translate it into commonly appealing songs for the DJs. It’d have to be a bit corny, so I wrote this little song called “Oh, Honey, You Turn Me On, I’m a Radio”.’

This number, in particular, showcases the Mitchell-esque use of double-meaning metaphors: ‘Who needs the static?/It hurts the head,’ and ‘Call me at the station/The lines are open’ are two clever examples in the song.

This was Joni’s final number but the Troubadour audience didn’t think so. She was brought back accompanied by abandoned applause with everybody shouting out their favourites. ‘I know what I’ll do. OK, if I sing “Circle Game”, you all have to sing with me, OK?’

Three hundred voices joined the pleased singer for the chorus of the song, and coaxed her into one more number, ‘For The Roses’, title track of her latest album.