Taylor Swift is dating Conor Kennedy.<\/p>\n
And I don’t give a shit, but he’s eighteen. Wasn’t she the one complaining that John Mayer was taking advantage of her? Yes, Mayer was much older, and Conor’s a Kennedy, but would you like your barely eighteen year old college freshman daughter dating an almost twenty three year old college graduate? Oh, that’s right, it’s different for boys…<\/p>\n
When Joni Mitchell was twenty three she’d already given up her child for adoption and married Chuck Mitchell. And none of us knew who she was.<\/p>\n
It was different back then. Children were not musical stars. You could only reach national consciousness by being on “Ed Sullivan.” There were no YouTube stars, hell, we didn’t even know there was that much money in music. Joni Anderson now Mitchell would not break through for years. She got lucky when Judy Collins had a hit cover of “Both Sides Now,” but at that point nobody had a clue who the writer was. Most people had no idea who Joni Mitchell was until 1974, when “Court and Spark” went unexpectedly nuclear. Her sixth album.<\/p>\n
But I barely play that album.<\/p>\n
I resonated first with “Ladies Of The Canyon.” I know every lick of “Blue,” to the point where I can sing it in my head.<\/p>\n
But the album I play most today is “For The Roses.” Because it’s everything today’s music is not. Honest. Reflective. Personal. It’s like a phone call from someone you wish was your best friend.<\/p>\n
I read in the Middlebury magazine about a site some alumni had constructed wherein they interviewed stars, asking them how they really made it. Because you read in the press someone was a waiter and the next day they were the star of “Die Hard.” It doesn’t happen that way. Which is why some of your favorite movie stars are so old. Dustin Hoffman was thirty when he broke through in “The Graduate,” he’s seventy five today. Robert DeNiro was thirty five when most people discovered him in “The Deer Hunter,” he’s now sixty nine. These actors were not plucked from obscurity, they were paying their dues, waiting their turn.<\/p>\n
And so was Joni Mitchell.<\/p>\n
Would you do it if you weren’t instantly famous?<\/p>\n
Not that Dustin, DeNiro and Mitchell had no indication they were on the right road. Oh, you get signs, but they’re small. And what you think is important ends up not being. And not everybody who hangs in there long enough makes it, but the best do.<\/p>\n
And if you don’t mention Joni Mitchell’s name in the same breath as Dylan and the Beatles, you’re a misogynist.<\/p>\n
And you can’t say that Joni never sang about her paramours. But there was no element of revenge, just truth-telling honesty. She was verbalizing what the rest of us felt, but did not know how to articulate. Like in “Lesson In Survival.”<\/p>\n
Friends and kin <\/em> Put other people in the equation and everything changes. You’re great alone, but do the friends and family approve of you? Does your relationship work in that dynamic?<\/p>\n Maybe it’s paranoia <\/em> Whew! I used to overparticipate, to compensate for my anxiety. That didn’t work so now I go silent, and numb. How can I be a member of a group…that really wants nothing to do with me, that really wants it just the way it used to be, before I came upon the scene. I want to be my best self, and I’m anything but. And I’m alternately steaming and depressed.<\/p>\n I went to see a friend tonight <\/em> We want support from our friends. We want them to understand. But the more we pour it out, the less sense it makes, we realize logic has escaped us. We just can’t convey what we feel, which is all emotion and nuance. This is assuming your friend is even listening. Which usually they are not. Or are busy saying you’re right and they’re wrong. But it’s not usually like that. The world is not black and white, despite the way Taylor Swift draws it. It’s gray. And we’re all culpable.<\/p>\n But this is about “Woman Of Heart And Mind.”<\/p>\n I am a woman of heart and mind <\/em> Are you worthwhile? Do you have depth? We now live in a money culture, if you’re rich you’re beyond analysis. But so many wealthy people feel empty inside. Can you imagine being a banker, doing that soulless work all day? Once upon a time we all wanted to be an artist. Expressing our truth. It was a privilege. Which almost none could earn.<\/p>\n And today people are too busy doing what they’re doing to ask questions. It’s a choice not to have children. To pursue your dream. It’s not for everybody, but that does not make it illegitimate.<\/p>\n You think I’m like your mother <\/em> Who do we want our women to be? Who can we allow them to be? In the media spouses are two-dimensional, cardboard, to be seen, but not heard. Standing on stilettos with blown-out hair and perfect makeup. Can you imagine being married to that? You want to go to dinner but she’s got to prep for an hour just to leave the house.<\/p>\n After the rush when you come back down <\/em> I don’t know how women put up with us. We’ve got such expectations. We want you to adore us, never question us, and if you let us down…we move on.<\/p>\n Oh, there are wimpy men. Who stand by like slaves, pussy-whipped men whose only use for their penis is procreation, but I’m telling you that most men are conflicted. We want to play our male games, win at business and sports, but deep inside we just want to be taken care of, soothed and groomed by…a woman.<\/p>\n Drive your bargains <\/em> It does. Which is why the men buy Ferraris, are seen in all the right places, to cover up the giant hole inside. We’re notching our belt, climbing the totem pole, trying to impress other men who never appreciate us. Only women can provide this.<\/p>\n I’m looking for affection and respect <\/em> Respect. People sing about it, but it’s so rarely given. Especially behind closed doors. But this is what we’re all looking for, respect, affection, passion…but it takes time, it’s not a one night stand, it’s something you build. And Joni says despite all that, she’ll be there for you. That’s exactly what we’re looking for, someone we can count on at the end of the day, who we’re not related to, who isn’t required to show up.<\/p>\n You criticize and you flatter <\/em> We’re never happy. We’re always looking for something better. Maybe if you were a bit thinner, or taller, or had a different nose. And almost none of this can you change. But we have a hard time loving you as you are, because we’ve been trained to keep foraging for perfection. But unfortunately, we’ve been sold a bill of goods, it doesn’t exist.<\/p>\n Who are you when no one’s paying attention? When the camera’s off and the mic’s been disconnected?<\/p>\n Men fall in love with movie stars. Thinking if they could only wed one, their life would work. Never stopping for a moment to contemplate that these women are playing a role.<\/p>\n Everybody’s so busy acting, everybody wants to put forth their best self.<\/p>\n That’s a lot of pressure.<\/p>\n You’re you, that’s all you’ve got. Hopefully someone will see your essence and pin the tail on your donkey.<\/p>\n “For The Roses” is why music was more profitable than movies and television. Why the life of the rock star was lionized. It was the freedom, the honesty, the ability to write your own rules. And the bankers can imitate this all they want, but it’s not a lifestyle, but something innate. You’re either a rock star or you’re not.<\/p>\n But now the whole world has gone topsy-turvy. It’s not about art, but money. If you’ve got no mazuma, you don’t count. Then there are people without money who feel superior. Singers who can’t sing. Who’ve got nothing to say. But have a chip on their shoulder anyway.<\/p>\n I haven’t heard Taylor Swift’s new album. Could be good for all I know. But I realize after John Mayer went on record that he felt humiliated by her song about him that I felt the same way about her song about me. What did I do wrong? Speak the truth? Reveal that she couldn’t sing, something that everybody saw on international television?<\/p>\n But modern life is first and foremost about loyalty. You say nothing negative about your friends, no matter their choices. If they rob a bank or steal a husband or wife, you’re not entitled to judge, you’re forced to stand by in solidarity. Huh?<\/p>\n And you’ve got to hold your tongue for fear of hurting anybody’s feelings. It’s not only politicians who can’t speak the truth. We’re all living in Lake Wobegon, where not only are all the kids above average, they make no mistakes, everything they do is trophy-worthy.<\/p>\n I’ve hung with Joni Mitchell a few times. If I reminded her, she might remember. But I’m not that important, certainly not to her. But what stunned me in these interactions was she was difficult. Questioning. The opposite of the mealy-mouthed celebrities of today. Hell, make her an “American Idol” judge. Nobody would win, nobody would be good enough in her eyes.<\/p>\n Joni’s three-dimensional. She’s got warts. She’s imperfect. And she’s not always right.<\/p>\n And she used to sing about this. Not only her hopes and dreams, but her experiences and flaws. She wasn’t keeping score, she was trying to figure it out.<\/p>\n We’ve lost sight of this. What an artist used to be and still is.<\/p>\n An artist is not someone with a song that tops the chart, but someone constantly developing his or her skills on an adventure, an exploration in search of truth.<\/p>\n And we pay attention to the best. Not because some magazine or TV show tells us to, but because we need the insight.<\/p>\n I was in college when I bought “For The Roses.” I can honestly say I learned more listening to this album than anything I learned my junior year. I can’t remember what classes I took, never mind what was taught, but I still quote “Woman Of Heart And Mind,” I still listen to this album. Because it’s life.<\/p>\n College was preparing someone else for a world I wanted no part of.<\/p>\n And I’m first and foremost proud I made it this far. That I didn’t commit suicide along the way. I could blame my ex-wife who left me, my mother who judged me, but I chose this path. It was the only one I could take.<\/p>\n And it was not lucrative. Hell, I don’t even qualify for the maximum social security, assuming I live that long. But I’ve got no regrets. Oh, I’ve given up a lot, but this is the life I wanted to live. One in search of excellence.<\/p>\n I hate your record because it’s not good enough.<\/p>\n I won’t go to the movies because they’re exercises in money, not art.<\/p>\n And I’m a constant warning to take the other direction.<\/p>\n Take that Taylor Swift.<\/p>\n
\n Campers in the kitchen <\/em>
\n That’s fine sometimes <\/em>
\n But I know my needs <\/em>
\n My sweet tumbleweed <\/em>
\n I need more quiet times <\/em>
\n By a river flowing <\/em>
\n You and me <\/em>
\n Deep kisses <\/em>
\n And the sun going down <\/em><\/p>\n
\n Maybe it’s sensitivity <\/em>
\n Your friends protect you <\/em>
\n Scrutinize me <\/em>
\n I get so damn timid <\/em>
\n Not at all the spirit <\/em>
\n That’s inside of me <\/em>
\n Oh baby I can’t seem to make it <\/em>
\n With you socially <\/em><\/p>\n
\n Was very late when I walked in <\/em>
\n My talking as it rambled <\/em>
\n Revealed suspicious reasoning <\/em>
\n The visit seemed to darken him <\/em>
\n I came in as bright <\/em>
\n As a neon light <\/em>
\n And I burned out <\/em>
\n Right there before him <\/em><\/p>\n
\n With time on her hands <\/em>
\n No child to raise <\/em>
\n You come to me like a little boy <\/em>
\n And I give you my scorn and my praise <\/em><\/p>\n
\n Or another lover or your sister <\/em>
\n Or the queen of your dreams <\/em>
\n Or just another silly girl <\/em>
\n When love makes a fool of me <\/em><\/p>\n
\n You’re always disappointed <\/em>
\n Nothing seems to keep you high <\/em><\/p>\n
\n Push your papers <\/em>
\n Win your medals <\/em>
\n Fuck your strangers <\/em>
\n Don’t it leave you on the empty side <\/em><\/p>\n
\n A little passion <\/em>
\n And you want stimulation-nothing more <\/em>
\n That’s what I think <\/em>
\n But you know I’ll try to be there for you <\/em>
\n When your spirits start to sink <\/em><\/p>\n
\n You imitate the best <\/em>
\n And the rest you memorize <\/em>
\n You know the times you impress me most <\/em>
\n Are the times when you don’t try <\/em>
\n When you don’t even try <\/em><\/p>\n\n