(born Roberta Joan Anderson; November 7, 1943) is a Canadian
, singer songwriter, and painter
. Mitchell began singing in small nightclubs in her native Saskatchewan
and Western Canada
and then busking
in the streets and dives of Toronto
. In 1965 she moved to the United States
and, touring constantly, began to be recognized when her original songs ("Urge for Going," "Chelsea Morning
," "Both Sides, Now," "The Circle Game") were covered by notable folk singer
s, allowing her to sign with Reprise Records and record her own debut album in 1968.
I need to explore and discover and so that has given me, really, to some what seems like courage, but really it's just in my stars, there's nothing I can do about it . . . . I guess I'll just take my award and run now.
I don't like being too looked up at or too looked down on. I prefer meeting in the middle to being worshipped or spat out.
Any time I make a record it's followed by a painting period. It's good crop rotation.
I was demanding of myself a deeper and greater honesty, more and more revelation in my work in order to give it back to the people where it goes into their lives and nourishes them and changes their direction and makes light bulbs go off in their head and makes them feel. And it isn't vague, it strikes against the very nerves of their life and in order to do that you have to strike against the very nerves of your own.
There's been a tremendous amount of growth. An actress is not expected to continue to play her ingenue roles, you know, I've written myself roles to grow into gracefully, but there is no growing into gracefully in the pop world. Basically the reason I'm so unruly in this business is because I never wanted to be a human jukebox.
In our possessive coupling So much could not be expressed So now I'm returning to myself These things that you and I suppressed.
You go down to the pick up station Craving warmth and beauty You settle for less than fascination A few drinks later you're not so choosy When the closing lights strip off the shadows On this strange new flesh you've found Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf You hurry To the blackness And the blankets To lay down an impression And your loneliness.
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine, You taste so bitter and so sweet Oh I could drink a case of you, darling And I would still be on my feet I would still be on my feet.
Rows and flows of angel hair, And ice cream castles in the air, And feather canyons ev’rywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, They rain and snow on ev’ryone, So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way.
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, From up and down, and still somehow It’s cloud illusions I recall, I really don’t know clouds at all.