This essay was originally written in 2020 and shared with a limited audience on Facebook during the early days of the pandemic. I’m reposting it here so that more people can read it, and because I want to revisit the music and memories myself. It’s part of a four-part look back at the music of 1974, a year that sounded a lot different than I remembered.

1974 Part III – Discovery

When I started this project, I didn’t realize how much time I’d spend rediscovering music I had forgotten, ignored, or outright dismissed as a kid. Case in point: Joni Mitchell.

As I neared the mid-70s in my music journey, I dug deeper into the popular hits that defined each year. I was buying music at the time, but not what was on the charts. I wanted to know what albums were considered the best and why. This led me to a lot of new (to me) music. Some of it hit me in ways it never had before. Some still bounced off. But the process itself was enjoyable.

Joni Mitchell released Court and Spark in 1974. By most accounts, it was the best album of the year. I had never listened to it. In fact, I had never really paid attention to Joni Mitchell. She seemed to appeal more to older women, or at least not to 13-year-old boys trying to find rock guitar riffs.

I ignored her music. I was a fool.

Rolling Stone currently ranks Court and Spark at No. 111 on its list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. It was voted Best Album of the Year by The Village Voice Jazz & Pop Critics Poll. The singles from it were staples on Top 40 and easy listening radio. You couldn’t avoid Joni Mitchell in 1974.

I listened to the album on a lazy Saturday morning. The house was quiet. The dog napped in a patch of sunlight. I knew “Help Me” and “Free Man in Paris.” I vaguely remembered “Raised on Robbery.” But the rest was brand new. I played the album through twice. Then a third time.

It was beautiful. Her voice is amazing. I know that sounds obvious, but it hit me hard. I had closed myself off from decades of good music without even thinking about it. I’m trying to fix that now.

One song that shook me was “Woodstock.” I knew the version by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, but I hadn’t heard Mitchell’s original. I found a live performance from 1970 and was floored. It was haunting and raw. It made me reconsider what the song was about. Joni Mitchell is, quite simply, a poet.

I’ve started working my way through her full catalog. So far, it’s been delightful.

One song in particular stands out: “The Magdalene Laundries.” It tells the story of Irish women imprisoned in Catholic institutions, forgotten and discarded. It’s a soul-crushing narrative about faith gone wrong. The song is both inauspiciously beautiful and gracefully horrible. It speaks to me in a way few songs do.

It was the final confirmation: I should have been listening to Joni Mitchell all along.

Peanuts In My Pocket