Weâ€™ve all said stuff at times that we didnâ€™t really mean (e.g. â€œIâ€™ll never drink that much again,â€ â€œThat new Rihanna jam is twee as fuck,â€ â€œSure honey, Iâ€™d love to have breakfast at Dennyâ€™s with your parents on my only day off,â€ â€œWhatâ€™s so bad about Sum 41?â€), but I guess I just hold Joni Mitchell to a higher standard than most. So I was more than a tad bit crestfallen to hear that the Canuckâ€™s newest disc since 1998â€™s Taming the Tiger would be brought to us by the bad-meaning-bad not bad-meaning-good peeps over at your suspiciously friendly neighborhood Starbucksâ€¦all 47 of â€˜em. A mere five years ago, Joan Baezâ€™s worst nightmare told the sycophants over at Jann Wennerâ€™s douche rag that sheâ€™d never record another album for another major label.
â€œIâ€™ll be damned if Iâ€™ll line their pockets,â€ the indignant, sometimes (mostly derivative) painter said.
Well, I hate to be the one to break it to Mrs. Roberta Anderson, but Starbucksâ€™ Hear Music label – which as 800-pound laissez faire gorillas are prone to do, outright bought the soul of the former catalog-only company back in 1999 for Allah only knows what – is one of thee biggest distributors of traditional, hold-it-in-your-grubby-little-hands CDs in all of Christendom.
First, it was that all-acoustic Alanis Morrisette treacle â€“ going down on Uncle Joey in a theatre without Glen Ballardâ€™s plug-ins is like Seals without Crofts, East coast without the LBC or Van Halen sans Michael Anthonyâ€™s Old No. 7 bass. Next it was that duets disc that cashed in on the Ray Charles is dead/letâ€™s celebrate like K.C. and The Sunshines hard-on. (Him and Johnny Mathis doing â€œSomewhere Over The Rainbowâ€ is about as listenable as Bing and Bowie bantering and butchering X-mas carols.) Then, and hereâ€™s the kicker, Thurston Moore tells Pitchfork that heâ€™s curetting a celebrity-picked mix tape of his bandâ€™s art school noise for the fart skooled boys who just canâ€™t start their day of popped-collar grab ass without a steaming cup of eight-dollar joe â€“ â€˜cause Iâ€™ve always wondered what Portia de Rossiâ€™s favorite part of â€œTeen Age Riotâ€ is. In the end, I guess itâ€™s perfect logic that the twits that made Sir Paul prance around in Chuck Taylors strumming that cheeky mandolin also convinced Joni to re-record â€œBig Yellow Taxiâ€ for topical reasons and have Herbie Hancock play keys on Rudyard Kiplingâ€™s incredibly inane â€œIf.â€ For what itâ€™s worth, hereâ€™s the track listing for Shine available anywhere â€œGrandeâ€ means small September 25th:
1. â€œOne Week Last Summerâ€
2. â€œThis Place
3. â€œIf I Had A Heart
5. â€œBad Dreams Are Goodâ€
6. â€œBig Yellow Taxiâ€
7. â€œNight of the Iguanaâ€
8. â€œStrong and Wrongâ€
Thanks a lot Seattle. Not only did you bless us with Singles and hoards upon whores of ersatz Nirvanas (have you heard the new Silverchair album and not thrown up in your mouth?), but now we have a new Joni Mitchell record thatâ€™s so environmentally green it smells like Kermitâ€™s dick. It reminds me of that scene in the Austin Powers sequel:
Austin: â€œThis coffee tastes like shit.â€
Basil: â€œIt is shit.â€
Worse yet, sheâ€™s signed a two disc deal. Three cheers for Shartfucks!