Joni Mitchell
Hejira

An anonymous evening a few days ago. The TV talks about the Woman of the Moment, the one who is carving out her fifteen minutes of fame thanks to the fake scandal linked to the relationship with a Puglian winemaker, better known as a singer, an old glory of national-popular Italy. There are journalists, sociologists, etc., and all like the doctors of Pinocchio, they pronounce learned judgments on the case. She is there too, the Woman of the Moment, displaying her art, which consists of a powerful pair of breasts at high risk of bursting, and a know-it-all barrage of talk, in the style of Honorable Vito.
For a while, I watch, fairly amused, then I tell everyone to screw off, go straight to my CD wall, grab "Hejira" by Joni Mitchell without hesitation and enjoy it in its entirety. Why Joni Mitchell, of all people?

The subconscious doesn't act randomly, but guided me towards the exact opposite of the Woman of the Moment: a true artist (singer-songwriter, painter, poet) who has never been and never will be a topic of gossip from the hairdresser, but in return, with the help of a guitar and little more, she marked an era, proposing a typically feminine way of understanding singer-songwriter music, with less anger, less commitment, and more attention to the problems of everyday life and human relationships, seen from the perspective of an intelligent and sensitive woman.
I know all of this is passé: not surprisingly, Mitchell's golden period goes from the late '60s to the late '70s, but I'm also passé, and I become more so as we are bombarded with new 'phenomena of the moment.'

I don't know to what extent it's a coincidence, but Joni Mitchell was born in Canada, although she later moved to California. Canadian like Leonard Cohen, another great versatile artist (poet, novelist, and singer-songwriter), not notorious for creating buzz, but capable of touching the deepest feelings. So, why did I choose Joni Mitchell, I've explained in some way. And then why "Hejira" specifically?
It depends on tastes: the first phase of Joni, sparse and acoustic, guitar piano and voice, culminating in the masterpiece "Blue", I certainly don't dislike, but the subsequent one, with the opening to jazz contaminations, is much more appetizing for a gourmet like me, who in music as in eating loves hearty, substantial things. And in this second phase, "Hejira" of 1976 stands out, a title inspired by Muhammad's flight from Mecca, far more historically important than my flight from TV, but still, a flight it is.
Joni's voice has also matured: from the ringing warbles of the early albums, we have moved to deeper tones and, not unpleasantly, decidedly more sensual. But it's the instrumentation that makes this record unique: far from abundant, yet perfectly balanced in the meeting between the clear resonances of the two guitars (Larry Carlton and Mitchell herself) and the dark, sometimes decidedly somber tones of the bass, played by a true jazzman, Jaco Pastorius, although not on all tracks.

Only the tender "Blue Motel Room" can be defined as a true jazz ballad: for the rest, the ballads have a decidedly folk, acoustic setting, but are ingeniously enriched by the entry of jazz instruments like the vibraphone, whose echoes blend with those of the guitars, giving a superb "bell effect" in the melancholic "Amelia", the most touching moment of the record along with the equally obscure "Hejira", with Pastorius's bass in full glory, whose agitated convulsions manage to twist the guts. The disoriented "Furry Sings The Blues" has great magnetic power, hosting the harmonica of another illustrious Canadian, Neil Young. Those looking for rhythm will find very little: only "Black Crow" and "Coyote" with their timid syncopations stand out from the prevailing mood, that of slow and sweet ballads, sometimes decidedly long ("Song For Sharon") but always so melodic and well-instrumented as to never bore.