By hannover-web.com The author of a beloved memoir inspired by Joni Mitchell’s iconic album *Blue* is finally living out her dream of seeing the famously reclusive singer perform at the Hollywood Bowl. Amy Key, who recently returned to Los Angeles, reflects on her journey from a white lie to a deeply personal experience with Mitchell’s music.
During a trip in February 2020, I lied to my taxi driver about my reason for being in LA. “I’m here to write about Joni Mitchell,” I said, hoping to craft a story. Fast forward to earlier this month, and I found myself returning to Los Angeles, excited to witness Mitchell perform at the Hollywood Bowl.
Back in 2020, it felt like a fantasy to think she’d ever perform again. After suffering an aneurysm in 2015 that hindered her ability to speak or walk, public appearances were few and far between. However, over the years, she has opened her home for jam sessions, slowly returning to the stage. A surprise appearance at the Newport Folk Festival in 2022 captured the world’s attention, and when she headlined a show in Washington last year, I faced heartbreak as I missed out on tickets. I watched Instagram clips with the sound off, trying to preserve the dream that I’d someday hear her sing live.
My previous visit to LA inspired me to write *Arrangements in Blue*, a book that dives into the intimate self-reflection that defines Mitchell’s artistry, particularly in her album *Blue*. For millions of fans like myself, *Blue* feels both deeply personal and universally relatable, influencing our views on love and identity. With the book’s release last spring, I became figuratively tethered to Mitchell, receiving messages from readers sharing their own connections to her music.
When Mitchell announced another show this January, I panicked and splurged on two tickets for nearly $2,000. The shock of this purchase and the prospect of finally seeing her perform left me reeling. How would I process such an emotional experience, and could I ever be deserving of such a moment?
Upon arriving in LA, I settled into my hotel courtyard, comforted by the sound of water trickling from a stone lion. A conversation with my Uber driver, Gregory, amplified my nerves as he expressed excitement for my upcoming concert. Despite his enthusiasm, I couldn’t shake off my fears.
This trip was haunted by the recent loss of my friend, the Scottish poet Roddy Lumsden, who died just before my last visit. His absence shadowed my experiences, forcing me to confront the pain I had long suppressed. My pilgrimage to Mitchell’s old home in Laurel Canyon ignited a transformative realization about the emptiness that had defined my life. That journey ultimately led to the creation of *Arrangements in Blue*, a book that, while not solely about Mitchell, was inspired by her work.
It’s surprising how closely I’ve linked my life to someone I’ve never met. Though I revel in being a fan, I don’t engage in online debates about her music. Yet here I am, having written a book born from her art, pondering the significance of fandom. The thought of sharing the same space as her, of hearing her voice live, filled me with a dreamlike panic.
As the concert neared, I daydreamed about my social media posts. I even wore a custom jacket inspired by a 1976 tour, hoping to attract her attention. Like many fans, I felt an urgency to connect and identify myself within the community.
On my first trip, I tried to trace Mitchell’s steps, but this time it felt like I was retracing my own journey. LA offered surprises at every turn; I even ran into Gregory again, which felt like a sign. The day before the concert, I visited iconic spots, including the Canyon Country Store and once more walked down Mitchell’s street, reflecting on my past and growth.
On concert day, I met with my friend and fellow Mitchell fan, writer Dolly Alderton, sharing our anxious excitement over bloody Marys. I attended with my friend Doug, and as we approached the Bowl, I soaked in snippets of conversations that captured the vibrant energy within the crowd.
When the lights dimmed and the stage rotated to reveal Mitchell, I was overwhelmed. Dressed in purple velvet, the ambiance of her stage was intimate yet grand, inviting us into her living room. As she began with two unfamiliar songs, I felt detached yet grounded, realizing I was truly there.
The moment she began to sing *Hejira*, a song I had hoped for, my emotions surged. For 18,000 others and me, she opened her heart and shared a piece of her soul. The experience was both personal and collective, a powerful reminder of the music’s impact.
In the second half of the concert, special guests joined her, creating a lively atmosphere. Mitchell’s performance transcended time, with every lyric echoing her remarkable journey from the vigor of youth to the wisdom of age. Each note was an encapsulation of life’s complexities, and as I scribbled down lyrics that resonated with my own journey, I felt a profound connection with her.
That night, among fellow fans at the Bowl, I realized the enormity of the experience I had just lived. It was both a shared celebration and an intimate moment etched within me. Reflecting on a postcard I found earlier, I understood the thrill of being present under the stars, knowing that profound experiences often defy language. And as I looked up at the night sky, I spotted shooting stars—an enchanting reminder of the magic that unfolded that evening.
