BLUE BOLLOCKS

Wow, who does she think she is?








Normally, I would be giving this book a full review at http://www.boomermediareview.com/ but since I generally review things I find worthwhile, I'm gonna pass on this tome for the site.
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But, I will say here that when an author builds an entire book around the premise that a pop singer-Joni Mitchell-made one of the "greatest albums" of the genre by "confessing" her private life and thoughts, then that writer has one hell of a lot of splainin' about it, to do.
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And even though Michelle Mercer gives it the old college try, I could not help but feel that she
really does not have that much to say, or explain, about Mitchell, other than she thinks the singer/songwriter was/is a genius, etc., etc., etc.
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In fact, Mercer's thesis that Mitchell is at her best a "confessional" writer is not even fully endorsed by the singer herself, and it ends up seeming like Mercer is obsessed with Mitchell's "Blue Period," of which Blue is bluest.
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In fact, I was reminded of John Lennon explaining over and over-and over-again that just because the listener had felt, or believed certain things about a certain song he had written or performed did not translate directly to the writer/singers original intent.
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And Mercer spends a good many pages apologizing for Mitchell's notoriously quirky relationship with the press, and closes the book with pages of "positive" utterances from Joni, collected through the years.
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But that is after Mercer quotes Mitchell as calling Jackson Browne a "phony," who doesn't really care about all the deep emoting he writes (about).
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Joni Mitchell wrote and sang some fine songs-Woodstock among the best-yet I'd wager Browne, on balance, would be viewed as the superior artist, "phony," or whatever.
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Because in the end-and this is what many rock critics/analyzers fail to appreciate, the music is the thing, and the rest is just really nothing. Or at best, nothing much.