| We live in rhythmic times, and I ache for somebody with the
sheer teeth-gritting fury of Joni Mitchell circa 1976, who in
that disco-burgeoning year made a near-drumless album called
Hejira, which my friend Erin once suggested might be better than
Blue. She may be right. I listened to Blue while driving through
Wyoming a month ago and it was incredible, of course, but there’s
a depth to Hejira that’s downright harrowing. Playing in
the kitchen right now, it’s like invasive flora, subjecting
everything around it to its simple, self-perpetuating will with
an awe-inducing ease. |
