'California' by Joni Mitchell
Or a song that is near and dear to my California heart.
Honestly, I just felt like writing about this song, so here goes…
Joni Mitchell I discovered when I was about 26. I was dating an older gentleman we’ll call William. I wrote about it at the time, here’s an excerpt.
I even have a soundtrack in my mind of our relationship. “Our Love” by Donna Summer was the beginning—it blared in the basement dance floor of an abandoned mansion as our shirtless bodies danced amidst a gay rave on a hot, electric Halloween night. Then “Heroes” by David Bowie, playing on his bedroom record player on a lazy Sunday morning, the two of us lying arm in arm on his queen bed singing the worlds softly to ourselves and to each other. Then “Blue” by Joni Mitchell, her voice coming out smooth and sultry on his living room speakers as he cooked me dinner in his kitchen.
After I was introduced to that ‘smooth and sultry’ voice, I was hooked. Particularly on the album Blue. Arguably her best work. But what I didn’t know then was that over the years, I would keep coming back to one song: “California.”
Oh, but California
California, I'm coming home
I'm going to see the folks I dig
I'll even kiss a Sunset pig
California, I'm coming home
Joni Mitchell was one of the Laurel Canyon musicians who lived in the hills of Hollywood writing folk songs that would culminate into her 1971 album, Blue. And listening to her music always makes me picture Lauren Canyon Blvd. The only road that can take you from West Hollywood to Studio City in the Valley in a quick 15-20m (if there’s no traffic). As you wind the paths, you lose sense of even being in the sprawling metropolis that is Los Angeles. Because next to you are hills. Trees. Dried grass. And houses tucked inside the alcoves of those hills. They actually are just the tip of the iceberg, because if you veer off onto any of the roads, they go up and up and up into the hills so that people who own houses there can be completely removed from the city, as though they live on a farm. Or a hippie compound. And that’s what makes me think of Joni Mitchell.
But let’s talk about “California.” California! There’s so many reasons to love this song, but the obvious one is that I grew up in Southern California. So when she sings, “California, I’m coming home,” it’s exactly what I think about when I’m about to touch down on a plane at LAX. I’m home. Because I’ve always lived in California. May always live in California. And when I say it, I have such pride. Because it’s a state known for adventure, leftism, overt racism, tech, coastlines, tall redwood trees, and one of the best state university systems in the country. But it’s also where my grandparents grew up - in Rialto, CA. And where my mom grew up, in that same city. And where I grew up, only about a 30 minutes from there. It’s where I went to school. It’s where I came out. It’s where I started my adult life, in a crummy 2-bedroom apartment in Hollywood with an Australian actress for a roommate. It’s where most of my extended family lives. Whenever I visit family, I only ever have to drive. I’ve never taken a plane to another state or had to book an overseas trip. They’re all here. Have been here for generations, both the Mexican and the White side. It’s why Joan Didion holds a special place in my heart as well. She’s a writer that taught me I was one, too. And she was from Sacramento. Went to UC Berkeley. Sure, she was a New Yorker as well, but she came from California. That’s two great women with J names that came from this state which has the 5th largest GDP in the world.
Anyway, back to the song. Joni is known for crooning about the men in her life. Lovers upon lovers. And there’s a line in California that has always resonated with me:
Oh, will you take me as I am?
Strung out on another man
California, I'm coming home
Strung out on another man! As though it’s this common thing, a constant in her life, and no matter how often they break her heart (or she breaks theirs), she’s always welcome back home in California. And I feel that, because I’ve been strung out on men and had to find comfort coming home.
I don’t know, it’s also home to San Francisco, where gay men flock every year to escape the midwestern or east coast conservative enclaves that stifle them. It’s where pioneers went in search of a better life, and even died for it. It’s the origins of Mexico in this country, taken by force from the Mexican government.
I got on a plane to Spain
Went to a party down a red dirt road
There were lots of pretty people there
Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue
They said, "How long can you hang around?"
I said a week, maybe two
Just until my skin turns brown, then I'm going home
I love that line “Just until my skin turns brown.” As a brown-skinned person who loves to tan, I’ve actually felt this. Traveling in Greece or Mexico, on a beach, sun shining. I was there to have fun. To tan. To drink on the beach. But I knew I’d be coming home, because California was where my friends were, my family, my job, my career, my future, my past. Why would I choose to stay anywhere else? Though I’ve often thought of leaving, and currently am what with the wild fires and cost of living, I still haven’t. And I don’t know if calling California my home would ever change. Would I always feel like I was somewhere else, even if I lived there for years? That it wasn’t truly home?
I’ve thought a lot about where I want to retire. It’s funny because the only places I can think of are in California. I either want to complete my full circle of life by ending up in the place I was born, the desert of Palm Springs. Or I want to fight cold winters and icy mountain paths in Tahoe as an old man, just to be close to nature and (maybe) have a vacation home I can use to enjoy the lake or some snowboarding throughout my adult life that I eventually retire in. That’s a dream, because right now there’s no $$ to speak of for that. But still. What is it about thinking about the end of my life that I feel like I want to end it here, in California? It’s not what happened to Joan Didion. It might be what happens to Joni Mitchell. Will it happen for me? Time will tell.
Anyway, I hope you listen to the song, and the rest of that album. And if you’re from California, I hope you continue looking for other ways people have expressed their love for it. Like Joan’s Where I Was From, a jouranlistic-personal memoir exploring the state she was born.