It was an expansive, eclectic setlist: not just the hits or the crowd pleasers, but impassioned reimaginings of material from across Mitchell’s back catalogue, such as the romantically tranquil title track from the 1991 album ‘Night Ride Home’ and the fiery social commentary on ‘Sex Kills’ from 1994. A clear highlight was ‘Amelia’, a deep, light meditation on freedom and flight. Mitchell’s vocals sounded especially muscular, and musician and producer Blake Mills gracefully and deftly accompanied her on Mitchell’s own guitar. Backing vocals from Lucius, percussion from Marcus Mumford, and guitar and vocals from Celisse Henderson (whom Mitchell admiringly called “a lady Jimi Hendrix”), among other musicians, completed the set’s luscious sound.
Mitchell can’t get those canary high notes anymore. So. As she put it Saturday night in a sonorously sung “Both Sides Now,” “Something is lost but something is gained by living each day.” What Mitchell has gained is a fine command of her luscious lower register – an androgynous, omniscient voice, like a wise, benevolent god. Given this unexpected third act as a performer, Mitchell has become resourceful with what others may see as potential limitations. As she and the others around her sang, the cane she uses to aid her mobility – on Saturday it was topped by a glittering wolf’s head – became both a percussion instrument and a royal staff.
As the night progressed, Mitchell became more and more chatty, telling delightful stories about friends and colleagues such as Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. She remembered the time Prince invited her onstage to sing on the “Purple Rain” tour, and confessed that she didn’t know the words to the title track; he assured her that there were really only two of them. While Mitchell rivals any rock icon, she didn’t always gain the respect of her male contemporaries throughout her career. Lennox acknowledged in one of the night’s most heartfelt monologues, “There used to be so few women doing this thing that we did.”
However, since Mitchell’s recovery from her aneurysm, the world seems to be catching up on lost time, belatedly acknowledging her extraordinary influence on popular music and bestowing her with one award after another. In recent years, she has received a Kennedy Center Honor, the MusicCares Person of the Year award from the Recording Academy, and most recently the Gershwin Prize for Popular Song from the Library of Congress.
So many laurels hanging around your neck can easily get heavy, but Mitchell has welcomed all this fanfare with an amused lightness – a shimmy, a chuckle and a fresh round of pinot grigio. And of course another song. She sang some lively covers of classics from what she called her “rock ‘n’ roll dance days” — “Love Potion No. 9,” “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” — but closed with what she introduced as a “Frank Sinatra song,” “Young at Heart.”
