Joni Mitchell, a surprise.

Reflections on Newport and how Big Yellow Taxi kick-started my career.

I’m not a very jealous person. Not romantically, not artistically. Sometimes if I hear a really great song or see a really great show I feel something that is probably jealousy, but I enjoy it. It makes me feel like working. Upping my game. I don’t go green with envy. I rarely have FOMO. You get it.

But earlier this week, watching the footage of Joni Mitchell’s surprise set at Newport Folk Festival, I was jealous. So very jealous! Not of Joni herself, not even of the musicians on stage with her, but of the audience. Imagine! Imagine going to Newport Folk Festival in 2022, psyched to see Brandie Carlile, and going home having witnessed the first live performance from Joni Mitchell in over 20 years. I can’t actually imagine. I may have internally combusted when she strutted onto the stage in her beret, sunglasses and pigtails. Even looking at the YouTube clips over breakfast I was in tears.

Something about the fact it was at Newport, where Judy Collins brought Joni to perform, along with another newcomer named Leonard Cohen, back in 1967. Something about the fact those fantastically flirty photos with Leonard were taken right there, on the day they met. Something about the fact that I’m right in the middle of reading Joni’s biography, which is why all these facts are at my fingertips and on my mind. Something about those songs, how much they mean to me, and to everyone else. Something about the past few years, and how badly we all need some good news. Something about how nobody knew whether Joni would ever be able to sing again after her aneurysm. Something about the fact she sounded so damn good.

Leonard Cohen & Joni Mitchell, Newport Folk Festival, 1967. Photo by David Gahr | jonimitchell.com

I could say Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi kick-started my career. I was 11-years-old on a school camping trip. Everyone was playing rounders (the mild British equivalent of baseball) and I wandered inside the lodge, maybe to use the bathroom, maybe to avoid batting. I happened upon a teacher (he seemed old to me, he was probably 28) and a girl from my class. He was playing guitar, she was trying to sing Big Yellow Taxi. There were several things I did not understand: How did this girl get out of playing rounders? Why was she not embarrassed to be singing with this teacher? How did she even know Big Yellow Taxi? And if she did know it, why did she not know all the words?

I, of course, knew all the words. Having declared myself a hippie earlier that year, my parents’ record collection was on heavy rotation. Ladies Of The Canyon was my favourite album (my pre-teen self was not quite ready for Blue) and Big Yellow Taxi was my favourite song (easier morals to palate than, say, The Arrangement). Everyone else in my class was listening to Saturday Night by Whigfield.

I hung back by the door a while, unsure what to make of this girl trying to sing my song. Do you know the words? The teacher beckoned me over. (I’m aware that this sounds like a scene in High School Musical.) I walked over and joined in, quietly at first but quickly gaining confidence, like the soon-to-be-star of aforementioned cheesy movie. That night, around the campfire (I kid you not), the teacher asked if I would sing Big Yellow Taxi for everyone. My first public appearance! On the coach journey home some of the boys (yes, the boys!) asked if I’d sing that paradise song again. Back at school, I was asked if I would sing it at morning assembly, and later again at the end of year show. It was a big deal, that show. I wore a little yellow belly top from Gap Kids. When the teacher started strumming I went completely blank of the opening lines. I got there on take two... there’s probably some home video evidence on an antique Hi8 tape somewhere. A few weeks later Amy Grant released a cover of, you guessed it, Big Yellow Taxi. It was the song of the summer.

I went on to sing in every school concert, every choir, every musical. I went on to cover Chelsea Morning, All I Want, People’s Parties. I sang Twisted in every audition I ever had, only recently learning that Joni’s version was a cover itself. I sang Carey in market squares on Spanish Islands; Help Me in moody Hotel Bars; Free Man In Paris in crumbling Parisian Theatres. Now I sing Morning Morgantown to my baby when he wakes up far too early each morning.

I never paid particular attention to Both Sides Now. It always sounded a little saccharine to me. I guess I never listened properly. Or didn’t know how to listen. I hadn’t yet seen love from the other side. The lyrics came at me when looking out of an airplane window not long ago — the first flight I’d taken in a very long time — and I was immediately sure Joni had written the lyrics in the air, looking down at the clouds. The biography I’m reading confirmed my suspicion! Both Sides Now, her first big hit thanks to Judy Collins, was the standout song at Newport last weekend and caused well deserved ripples across the world wide web. Her voice is no longer brilliantly high, but marvellously low. Deep, weathered, laced in wisdom. She’s 78 years old, looking at life from the other side. I showed the clip to my mother, who is about to celebrate her 70th birthday. She too cried the whole way through. I don’t know how she wrote this song when she was so young.

The excellent biography I keep alluding to is Reckless Daughter, A Portrait Of Joni Mitchell. It was written by David Yaffe, a fellow Substacker I recently met thanks to the weird ways of the internet. Sometimes good things come out of Twitter!, as he put it. You can imagine my excitement when he endorsed my Leonard Cohen song, having spent time with the man himself. And you can imagine, knowing my predisposition to biographies, how much I’m enjoying his Joni book. I’m eager to get his reflections on the Newport extravaganza, ideally on a Chelsea Morning in New York, sipping tea and lemonade at a table in the shade... (forgive my lyrical mix and matching, it sounded more sophisticated than milk and toast and honey).

Incredibly enough, Paul Simon also made a surprise appearance at Newport last weekend. Despite being utterly overshadowed by Joni’s re-emergence, he got my tears too. A few of you may remember I shared a verse of American Tune deep in the pandemic proper. It’s an incredible song that keeps on giving and I was absolutely floored by this rendition with Rhiannon Giddens. No jealousy, just admiration and motivation.

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Did you think I’d forgotten about last week’s caption competition?! I’m sure many of you are eagerly awaiting the results…

Entries were of extremely high calibre across the board. However, there has to be one winner. And though this may prove highly controversial, the winner is… my very own Canadian singer-songwriter duo partner, JF Robitaille! I hope, when you look again at the photo with his accompanying caption below, you will put aside your suspicions that the gig was rigged and agree he is the deserving winner!

“I knew your duo partner was small but this is ridiculous.”

This caption reminded me of the time I accidentally signed off an email to a major publisher with:

See you shortly!

Except what I actually wrote was:

See you shorty!