Dry straw-like stalks of dulcimer strings drone almost all alone save for a low folksy drum in ‘All I Want’, the straightforward opener to Joni Mitchell’s 1971 classic Blue. Angular acoustic comes in too to syncopate with the stream of some unimpeded singing. With a voice that runs a very wide range, Miss Mitchell indeed sings her confessions freely in this song that serves as a self-reflective letter to her lover. The final verses flows: “I want to have fun / I want to shine like the sun / I want to be the one that you want to see / I want to knit you a sweater / want to write you a love letter / I want to make you feel better / I want to make you feel free”. There’s specific emphasis on the final word, and perhaps that might imply that the combination code of love-n-liberty serves as secret key to happiness in any relationship. But to surely summarize the song, see the second verse: “all I really really want our love to do / is to bring out the best in me and in you too”. Warm chords wash over ‘My Old Man’, Mitchell’s ode not for a father but rather for her dandy boyfriend-lover. It’s a brilliant piano ballad featuring Mitchell’s preferred modal musical styles. Unexpectedly melancholy tonalities arise in little portions like on the “dancer in the dark” lyric and also more remarkably in the middle bits where the chords take a tragic turn into foreign territory. These sad passages are paired to words that work well to justify such gloomy music. For example, each abrupt bridge describes the Old Man’s absence: “but when he’s gone / me and them lonesome blues collide / the bed’s too big / the frying pan’s too wide”. O, but blessedly, he returns! And each happy detail concludes with the ever-catchy chromatic honky-tonky sassy passage: “we don’t need no piece of paper from the city hall / keeping us tied and true.” Defying the times, these two can be as good as married with their love alone. ‘Little Green’ gently lulls with its acoustic arpeggiations and its esoteric story-like lyrics. Although it never really reveals its audience, the song is secretly addressed to an anonymous daughter; and until the 1990s, no one knew that the song regarded Mitchell’s own mysterious child, a daughter placed for adoption just before the singer’s breakout success. Reading the lyrics from this lens, one can piece together a painfully personal reflection on an unfortunate situation. Upon the adoption: “…you sign all the papers in the family name / you’re sad and you’re sorry but you’re not ashamed / little green, have a happy ending”. That’s a tough one. Scratchy dulcimer returns to accompany ‘Carey’, one of the more produced pieces on this minimalist record. There’s a bass and some heavy hand-drums dancing along for the whole song. All the lyrics paint a picture of the end of a jaunty party of hippies headed up by the mystifying main man Carey, an ever-alluring island-dwelling playboy described as a “bright red devil” and a “mean old daddy”. Each chorus, Mitchell copies her words and harmonizes herself with silky sirens who sing so smoothly and movingly that it almost makes you want to pack up and move to Malata and join the company of ol’ crazy Carey. True to its name, ‘Blue’ brings the gloom. It’s a stark stripped-back ballad oozing with curious emotionally-expressive modal chords and nautical imagery. Like a blues musician, Mitchell utilizes the common theme of depression and emptiness; but the lyrical content and highly evocative music of her song combine to create a sonic product much more significant than any generic blues song. With a personal tone, Mitchell tackles serious social troubles; at its core, the song represents depression and the subjugation of women to male dominance. But there’s also drugs and damnation to discuss. Mitchell whines these striking lines “acid, booze, and ass / needles, guns, and grass” in such a sneering way to indicate her dismay and denunciation of her entire generation. ‘California’ promises sunshine. The singer dreams of retreating to the far edge of America. She’s had enough of her Careys in Crete, her cold Parisian streets, her Spanish party retreats. None of these nice delights can compare to the old home. She’s resigned and ready to return. And through a series of bright ever-catchy melodies, she hits the high-pitch right on the name of her favorite state California. There’s dulcimers and real drums, bass and lots of guitar (including a sharp steel solo every now-n-then to offer a touch of country, appropriately enough). She must be going home because the next song, ‘This Flight Tonight’, takes place from within an airplane. The sound is sinister: low-tuned strings flop ominously and at a very fast pace. There’s a destination and there’s nothing to be done otherwise, but still the singer longs for the land and her lover. Chorus is an order to “turn this crazy bird around” and a claim that she “shouldn’t have got on this flight tonight”. The third verse includes a particularly compelling production nugget: in an attempt to pass the tedious time, Mitchell listens to music over headphones and the specific song playing, all tinny and distant, briefly fuses with ‘This Flight Tonight’ itself. ‘River’ sounds like a sad rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’, the usual peppy melody paired to a piano’s disconsolate chords. And then the words of the first and fifth verse use the Christmas season to comment on coldness, but it’s not just about snow. Mitchell shares with us shades of her fame (verse 2). She laments a fractured love (verses three and four). Never mind the weather, these personal problems are the culprits causing the coldness. At the end of each verse, Mitchell wishes for an endless river, forever frozen and lonely and free for fleeing. She’d skate away from her cold woes if she could. Her voice soars, sincerely sorry for all she has harmed. She just needs to be alone for a while, as we all do from time to time. Here’s a highlight: ‘A Case of You’ comes packed with many little lyrical allusions and wells of meaning. Addressed to a former boyfriend, one complicated companion, the song overall suggests that Mitchell could never get enough of him. Indeed, she admits that “part of you pours out of me / in these lines from time to time”. Furthermore, if you consider the alcohol implications of the “case” in the chorus and title, she claims she could always be clear-headed when imbibing his intoxicating bittersweet vibes. In other words, she could see right through his illusions and ruses and just hold his soul. Charged by a delicate dulcimer, the song’s soft sound makes way for Mitchell’s masterfully expressive voice throughout. Last track regards a Richard, or more specifically, ‘The Last Time I Saw Richard’, an unsmiling title for an appropriately dark song about a depressed dude drinking away his dreams. And despite conversation, friend Mitchell can’t really encourage or convince Mr. Richard to get back to his stride. The music, played on a piano alone, vacillates between bitter chords and some brighter-sounding sonorities as the verses progress; and indeed the words, of which there are many, reflect some brief glimmer of hope as they go along. But it seems that Richard’s cynicism seeps into Mitchell’s mind. The last verse provides an update on both Richard and Mitchell years later: “Richard got married to a figure skater / and he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolator / and he drinks at home now most nights with the TV on / and all the house lights left up bright”; and as for Mitchell: “I’m gonna blow this damn candle out / I don’t want nobody comin’ over to my table / I got nothing to talk to anybody about / all good dreamers pass this way some day / hidin’ behind bottles in dark cafés / dark cafés / only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings and fly away / only a phase, these dark café days”. And so it goes out, all glum and done. Minimal and personal, Blue consists of ten intimate musical moments with Mitchell. Often hailed as a “relatable record”, the deep Blue isn’t too difficult to dig. I suggest you get to digging and enjoy the treasure.