I have difficulty finding Joni Mitchell as an object of conscious involvement. At this point the melancholy of her still being around reminds me too much of the melancholy of me still being around. The other side of both sides now is that both sides have faded into a time bound composite. Perhaps that is my Canadian composite that shaded, testured, and added some cold rolling plans to distant mountains with some of Joni’s thin and plaintive sounds.

I can easily identify the parts brought to me by Gordon Lightfoot and Ian & Sylvia but Joni built the intangible and floated like the deeper part of a faded memory.

It doesn't ask to be rediscovered. But that may be whatever has changed me over the last ten years or so as I find harder and harder to go back to my musical roots that were always so important to me.

I’ve watched several generations rediscover the radical songs of my youth that were so much more than that. But there is always irony as my daughter is closer to that than I am as I’m the one who has moved on. But that is not newer versus older but the changing empathy with the music for the emerging future that changes the sound of the past.

But maybe it is the taste of bitterness that comes in seeing the betrayals and unintended consequences of an earlier time of hope that was more wistful than we thought. And more naive.

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Educator, CIO, retired entrepreneur, grandfather with occasional fits of humor in the midst of disaster. . .

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