Joni Mitchell
Mingus

THE REVIEW

Among many things that happened on Earth in 1977—good, bad, important, or otherwise—the notes of "Paprika Plains," a piece around which the album "Don Juan's Reckless Daughter" by Joni Mitchell revolved, also reached the eardrums of jazz musician Charles Mingus (hereinafter simply referred to as the "great Jazz musician"), and around these parts, they made a good impression to the point that he, the great Jazz musician indeed, was inspired to work with the blond Canadian angel.

The definitive form of the project their collaboration resulted in consisted of six melodies put on the table by the great Jazz musician, while Joni Mitchell was supposed to add lyrics and voice. Before an album containing the result of their work was realized, the great jazz musician decided to depart from this world, leaving it to lick the wounds caused by such a loss, and leaving her, Joni Mitchell, grappling with important decisions yet to be made.  Among these was the issue regarding the type of instrumentation to use for the album. She knew that the great jazz musician's desire was for entirely acoustic instrumentation, and for this purpose, she had been provided with a band with top-notch credentials, with whom some versions of certain pieces had already been realized (I don't know where they ended up, if anyone knows, let me know). She felt the need to respect this desire but was also convinced of her own ideas, which went in another direction, that of using electric bass and piano. She got out of the stalemate following the great jazz musician's death by going her own way, bringing along a good part of the Weather Report of that period (Zawinul was missing), Herbie Hancock to take care of the piano parts, and Don Alias for the percussions. She would handle the guitar parts. Thus, an irreplicable color palette was completed, with which in 1979 the album in question was finally realized.

Inside it ended up four pieces resulting from that collaboration, and she added two others, entirely her own contribution. Six pieces in total, interspersed with recordings of some moments of the great jazz musician's daily life and some of his statements.    

Most of the pieces at first seem to have a dilated rhythm. In reality, they are rhythmic enigmas that only the instrumentalists can unravel. The baton of who is responsible for rhythm passes from one instrument to another during the course of a single piece, while whoever is freed goes wherever they please. The only one who skips a turn because he really doesn't want to do that job is the sax, Shorter is a painter, and you can't ask painters to also make the canvas. During sudden accelerations, the bass creates whirlpools from which fantastic piano chromatisms and sax strokes escape in turns. The listener doesn't need to understand anything but should simply surrender to the current, whatever happens.

Joni Mitchell's voice flies over the music with daring evolutions like an elusive butterfly, without falling into the rhythmic traps played by the instruments.

Among these, the one most prominently featured is the bass. 

It is a chameleon-like and elusive bass that changes direction with each harmonic. In moments when it is free from rhythmic commitments, it almost becomes a human voice, in the manner of ‘A Remark You Made', ready to steal moments of protagonism from the lead voice.

Pastorius does his part without altering his style in the slightest to try to approach that of the great jazz musician. He is Pastorius without ifs and buts. I'm not interested in boasting knowledge I don't have; for now, Mingus's music is practically uncharted territory for me. I'll make up for it, but for the moment, I can't say if the rendering of the music could have been better with the sound imagined by the great jazz musician.

The two pieces written entirely by Joni Mitchell deserve their own discussion.

"The Dry Cleaner From Des Moines," differs from the rest in terms of rhythm as it is an uptempo from beginning to end. For those who are fans of the sound of the bass, there's plenty to enjoy.  

‘The Wolf That Lives in Lindsey' in my opinion seems out of context for various reasons. First of all, it's not a true Jazz piece, and then it is the only track with a stripped-down instrumentation, mostly just guitar, occasional percussion, and wolves at the end. It seems to be an attempt to evolve the conversation started on the previous album with the track ‘The Silky Veils of Ardor', and in the end, it doesn't seem to match up.

The lyrics. Three tracks are about the great Jazz musician, there are two brief portraits of him, and a dedication to saxophonist Lester Young, his friend and musical partner. There's the confessional piece à la Joni Mitchell (Sweet Sucker Dance), there's the piece on the shadows of the human soul (The Wolf ...), and finally, a piece that talks about a gambler (the owner of a dry cleaner from Des Moines) who with slot machines seems to have a touch similar to what the deaf, dumb, and blind kid had with the pinball.

Mine is a five but with a 'but'. Five because everything is perfect (apart from The Wolf ....), the sounds are fantastic, the pieces are fantastic, she is fantastic, perfect, beautiful, etc. Five because there is also the title to be elected among the most beautiful in history (God Must Be a Boogie Man). ‘Five but' because I have the sensation (very personal, I realize) that it lacks a bit of soul. If you listen to Blue first and then this, you can understand what I mean.