“Serious clowning”: The jazz artist Joni Mitchell called “less a band and more a being”
Band synchronicity isn’t always the easiest concept to master. For solo artists, most of this centres around the collective understanding of being in touch with one another, whether through trust or more fundamental musical alignment. For Joni Mitchell, this reaches its most magical form when everyone plays as one, much like the greatest jazz ensembles in history.
Aside from her own jazz stint, the idea that Mitchell would understand the value of unanimous musical dynamics isn’t entirely out of reach. After all, this interplay feeds into many of her other musical facets, namely her penchant for capturing some of the more ambiguous chapters of life where everything feels simultaneously uncertain and poised for pastures new.
There are countless examples of this, from the dreamy haze and emotional processing of Blue to the more technically proficient refinement of Hejira. By capturing specific moments in time, Mitchell redefines the ways intimacy converges with artistic expression, signalling a broader, more accomplished understanding of what it truly means to create music as a complex conversational tool.
Part of this strive to be constantly moving and shifting is what made Mitchell explore jazz in the first place. As a skilled player when it comes to collecting cultural screenshots, jazz schooled her in the art of harmonic band unity while also allowing her to explore the boundless limitations of flexible soundscapes. At the same time, it pushed her to take risks, which ultimately shaped her broader artistic viewpoint when it came to boundary-pushing.
As she once explained to Rolling Stone: “You have two options. You can stay the same and protect the formula that gave you your initial success. They’re going to crucify you for staying the same. If you change, they’re going to crucify you for changing. But staying the same is boring. And change is interesting. So, of the two options, I’d rather be crucified for changing.”
For this reason, among many others, she fell in love with Duke Ellington, specifically his orchestration ‘Subtle Lament’, which managed to tick all the boxes that signified the full potential of band interplay. “I love this arrangement, the way the colours change, but it’s the sound of the band, the warmth of it, the heart, the humour, the spiritual synchronization, that makes this music so inimitable,” she explained.
Adding: “This is less a band and more a being. They play together like one instrument – one soul. Listen to Duke as he comes tickling in – the notes wink at you – like the Harlem Globetrotters- delightful! – serious clowning.”
Mitchell’s entire venture into the world of jazz became about learning how these independent components contribute to a broader whole and how such an amalgamation can make music feel more immersive than any other. For many, the vastness of jazz music is precisely what makes it feel this way, and while that’s a similar situation for Mitchell, it’s also a personal affair, even in moments when it feels entirely fluid.
Even beyond Mitchell’s jazz projects, she manages to blur similar boundaries and challenge the same structures, creating sounds that feel like they’re evolving in the moment, even when rooted in a specific time and place. Sometimes, this blend can culminate in a capturing of worlds, where various genres come together in the subtlest ways, but that’s what ultimately makes Mitchell more seasoned than most.
