“I couldn’t look at people without weeping,” Joni Mitchell said, about the time she wrote Blue, her best-loved album, which is 50 years old today. Like every aspiring literary sad girl, I know Blue by heart, though I have loved it for only 20 of its 50 years. I haven’t been to California, either, nor did I live through the sexual revolution, or know the pain of giving up a child for adoption. Yet this album has seen me from childhood through to adulthood; its essence has fused with my own.
In her essay The Joni Mitchell Problem, Meghan Daum wrote of the album’s unparalleled adulation: “The clause ‘Joni and
→ Continue reading at The Guardian – News