Joni Mitchell continued her ill-advised exploration of 80s pop with 1985’s Dog Eat Dog, an album considered her worst by many fans.
For the first time she shared production duties, with husband Larry Klein as well as Mike Shipley and Thomas Dolby. Dolby contributed synths and excessive sampling, doubling down on the New Wave sound that proved such a weird fit. Mitchell doesn’t play guitar on a single track.
Joni Mitchell waited three years between studio albums, the longest gap in her career to that point, before diving into a new decade with 1982’s Wild Things Run Fast.
Typically unpredictable, and citing the influence of such bands as The Police, Steely Dan and Talking Heads, Mitchell set aside the jazz experimentation of her past few records and fully embraced an 80s pop sound.
I might have spoken too soon yesterday. I’ve finally arrived at a Joni Mitchell album that even her die-hard fans have a hard time defending.
1979’s Mingus, Mitchell’s 10th studio album, is the culmination of her jazz phase. A collaboration with jazz great Charles Mingus released just after his death, the album features two songs written by Mitchell and four with lyrics by Mitchell and music by Mingus. The other five “rap” tracks include snippets of studio banter.
Joni Mitchell continued her torrid pace in 1977, releasing her ninth album in 10 years. This one was a doozy.
Every major artist seems to have at least one grab bag double album in them, and Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter was Mitchell’s. This hour-long opus features only ten songs, including the 16-minute epic ‘Paprika Plains,’ which ran for the entirety of Side Two.
The record dived even deeper into her fascination with jazz fusion, and features contributions from celebrated jazz musicians, most notably bassist Jaco Pastorius and other members of his band Weather Report.
I’ve seen a lot of fans name 1976’s Hejira, Joni Mitchell’s eighth album, as their favorite of her releases. And I get it. This is a lush, emotional, warm record, brimming with great poetry and beautiful music.
But it’s also a bit of a chore. The nine-song cycle runs over 50 minutes, with multiple tracks topping the six-minute mark. None of the songs have traditional choruses, just four or five (or six) long meandering verses. This album requires you to either pay very close attention or pay no attention at all.
Meet Me In Montauk 