On Joni Mitchell and Self-Expression in Microcosms
written by Shane Cook
Bahlest Eeble Readings Cycle 15 Fellow
...and her heart is full and hollow, like a cactus tree...
- Joni Mitchell, "Cactus Tree"
I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I have spent a large percentage of my twenties worrying. The worries come in all sorts of colors, shapes and sizes, and my mind sometimes fixates on one like it is selecting a pastry from a dessert case: which will it be today? Historically, some worries have been practical (where is my next paycheck coming from?), some frivolous (why can’t I seem to take a flattering picture of myself?), some romantic (when will I find someone to meet me where I am?), and some existential (do my small actions make a difference to our dying planet?).
As a young creative finding my footing on this career path, I’ve spent countless hours worrying over the music I bring into the world. I’ve agonized wondering if my music is innovative enough, or if it’s become so challenging to the listener that it is losing its relatability. I’ve worried that no one will hear my work, but also that my work is too public when it’s been released on large platforms. I’ve worried that my music cannot compete for an audience’s attention in a world oversaturated with content. When the opportunities feel scarce, each commission, song or project practically buckles under the weight of my expectations: Is this what X panel, judge, or commissioner is looking for? Have I blown their expectations out of the water, or have I even met them at all? What prizes will this project earn me? What career milestone is this piece going to help me move towards?
Sometimes it feels as though every work I create has to show the entire scope of what I have to offer as an artist and as a human. Why bother creating at all if this next work isn’t going to change the world?
Growing up has meant learning that the scope of the worrying is actually anxiety speaking to me, and that there are methods to combat the thought patterns when they become overwhelming and unhelpful. These methods have become easier and more effective after years of practice, with the help of professionals and support from my friends and family. Now that the smoke has cleared, I can look through the mist and decipher which of these worries actually have legs to stand on. In my artistic life, I’ve found that there are some practical concerns that are worth me spending a little time to wrestle with. One that comes to mind is learning how to balance making the most of each project that comes my way, without putting so much pressure on it coming out perfectly that it becomes a Herculean task just to write the damn thing.
Here is where Joni comes in. Joni Mitchell has been an artistic beacon for me since I first heard her music years ago. I vividly remember my first experience of Blue, her most well-loved album, after the recommendation of a friend. In the very first moments listening, I recognized a musical soul-match. Her music speaks to me for so many reasons - her emotional, virtuosic vocal performance; her intricate guitar picking and inventive tunings; the odd, wandering phrases of her compositions.
Recently, as I packed up my apartment in Chicago to move to Northern California for a year-long artist residency, I realized I was overdue for a listen of Blue. I let myself sink into the world of "All I Want", the first song on the album, and the very same song that grabbed my attention in my first listen all those years ago. I’ve probably listened to it several dozen times since then. But somehow, as I stored my sweaters, books, and guitars in boxes and cases and prepared myself to enter a new chapter of my life, the lyrics of the song struck me in a new way.
In first verse of the song, Mitchell expresses her craving for the feeling of life, the feeling of not being tied down, and the feeling of not knowing what is next:
Oh, I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some
Oh, I love you when I forget about me
I wanna be strong, I wanna laugh along
I wanna belong to the living
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some jukebox dive
In the second verse, her craving is the opposite. She longs for the feeling of intimacy and stability and the mundane with someone:
All I really, really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you
I wanna talk to you, I wanna shampoo you
Wanna renew you again and again
Applause, applause, life is our cause
When I think of your kisses my mind see-saws
The result of holding these conflicting feelings at the same time? That she just isn’t sure what she is looking for, even though she recognizes she is searching for something:
I am on a lonely road and
I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be?
This song seems to be about a specific moment or situation in Mitchell’s life; she at least writes from a point of view where she longs to be with a specific person. What seemed counterintuitive to me was that within this specificity (and probably because of it), I felt like somebody had been through my experience and known the emotions I was experiencing at the current crossroads of my life: feeling torn between excitement of new chapter before me, and the sorrow of leaving behind friends, family, lovers, the familiar, to experience newness and freedom.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do as artists is just to create a snapshot of where we are currently sitting. By focusing on expressing a specific moment or sentiment in our work, maybe we can hope to catch the intricacies of the mundane. It’s like a single paragraph pulled from a diary entry - we can learn so much about someone when there is space for us, the audience, to fill in some gaps and bring our own life experience to the table. And isn’t it enticing to be served just a small, concentrated slice of someone’s life, and be left craving more?
From this, I’ve really strived to learn that each piece of work I produce doesn’t need to express my thoughts and feelings on everything I’ve ever experienced. It doesn’t need to express the full breadth of my compositional toolkit either - there will be other songs and other pieces that can explore all the fancy things I’ve learned at conservatory. Lastly, and most importantly, I am striving to remember every day that each work that I create absolutely should not carry the weight of my entire career on their shoulders. I’m trying to view each of my works as patches on the quilt of my career. They can each be their own precious little world, and when they are stitched together, they unite to make up a rich and diverse body of work. If each of my songs and compositions can give someone a tiny, nuanced glimpse into where I was at a certain moment in my life, I will be content.
Composer and percussionist Shane Scott Cook (b. 1994) was born and raised in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. His work has been performed by New Jersey Percussion Ensemble, Joseph Morris, Ilan Morgenstern, Hindustani vocalist Saili Oak and tabla virtuoso Shawn Mativetsky.