Word: albums
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...BEGINS "The Silky Veils of Ardor," the last song on Joni Mitchell's newest album, Don Juan's Reckless Daughter. Throughout her career, Mitchell has been traveling--a hitcher, a wanderer, a tourist, a pilgrim with no destination. Her albums are not so much a chronicle of her travels as a portrait of the traveler. And the traveler is slowly, sadly, desperately slipping away...
...Juan's Reckless Daughter is a demanding double album, for it makes few concessions to the exigencies of commercial appeal. It refuses to be tossed into one of the catch-all bins that are labeled folk, jazz or rock. The kind of freedom Mitchell enjoys on this album is rare, and refreshing, but it is also a perilous freedom: Leave the clearly marked paths of standard meter and concise rhyme schemes, and walk the untrammeled, impressionistic woods. But take care you don't get lost. While some of the songs on Don Juan's Reckless Daughter pass through those woods...
Musically the album is creative and rewarding. Like Hejira, her last album, Don Juan's Reckless Daughter continues to move away from the tight jazz-rock style of The Hissing of Summer Lawns. Several of the extraordinary musicians who played on Hejira contribute to the new album, particularly bass player Jaco Pastorius of Weather Report and drummer John Guerin of the L.A. Express...
There are other sides of Byrne's psyche that get play on this album as well. An especially interesting tidbit is a song called "Psycho Killer." This number could well be dedicated to David Berkowitz, with such lines as, "I hate people when they're not polite." Byrne lapses into French on the chorus, just to let us know that our friendly psycho is not dummy...
...blend of musical and lyrical avantgardness. The Head strive for a pop sound that is quirky enough to interest an intellectual audience, and Talking Heads: 77 is truly a modernist product to use the old sales pitch: If you liked Waiting for Godot, you'll love this album. But if you are turned off by the idea of troubled monologues, spoken by a "70s Man" surveying the new vacancy, devoid of the anger that animates a punk like Johnny Rotten, then save your bread. "Q'est-ce que c'est Talking Heads" indeed...