“Those Who Were Dancing” is a column for the music lovers and learners who find themselves thinking about songs long after they stop playing. Whether it’s advice, reflection or analysis, Carly Green ’28 wants to convey what music has offered to her and how it has helped her develop.
As I leaned back into the grass of Meyer Green, I heard the ghost of a familiar dulcimer riff. A friend I’d just made placed the tune’s origin before I did.
“Is that ‘California’ by Joni Mitchell?” he asked. I smiled, satisfied that he was as joyful about the song as I was. We spoke Joni Mitchell and our music tastes for a minute before returning to our work. A few minutes later, we were gracefully interrupted yet again by the dulcimer. “Sitting in a park in Paris, France…”
We looked at one another and laughed. “California” again, this time from a different gaggle of friends sprawled out in the other direction. I felt pleased knowing that in the circle around me on the green, there were a number of us that enjoyed Mitchell’s stream of consciousness and unique voice. It felt amazingly cheesy to be relishing a sunny California winter while listening to romantic songs about it. I swore I heard it playing a third time a few minutes later from a different cluster of sun-bathing students.
After that instance, I was sent into an orbit of thoughts about the representation of California in songs. California loves to party, it’s infused into a captivating hotel, it has girls that are undeniable and it can convert people to become more superficial or fake — a process coined as Californication by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. California is many things to many people.
Some see a romantic image, others see a superficial one. Some admire the state through rose-colored glasses, others glare through the distortion of the rearview mirror as they wave goodbye. Some examine the simple concepts, the sun, the beach or the vibes. Others examine the nuanced scandals. There is no definitive Californian angle. I’m constantly reminded and shocked by how massive this state is; on the east coast, I can cross multiple state lines in short trips. The more time I spend here, the more is revealed to me about the distinct personalities that exist just half-hour stretches away from one another. During my few road trip experiences, I’ve been floored by the delicacy of a mountain range perched just to the side of a highway. We don’t have those where I come from. I see why California is such an inspiring muse.
If you haven’t heard “California” by Joni Mitchell, please exit this article without delay and listen to it. Mitchell’s voice has this mesmerizing ability to flutter effortlessly between beautiful notes. It’s admittedly not for everyone, but I encourage you to lean into the unpredictability of her voice. If you try singing it, you’ll probably end up laughing at yourself (not that I’ve tried). This masterpiece was written in 1970 while Mitchell was venturing through Europe, and the vividness of her descriptions can be attributed to the fact that she did actually write the verses in France, Greece and Spain, respectively. You can literally feel Mitchell’s longing for California grow throughout the piece, parallel to the way it did during her travels.
I find this song easy to relate to. I was born in San Diego, and I have foggy memories of relishing palmiers with my parents at the local coffee shop, carelessly sprinting alongside sandpipers on the beach and admiring the two palm trees in my backyard that I declared were the spirits of me and my sister. My whole life, as I drifted from state to state, I’d melt into reveries of returning to California.
To say California is my home as Joni Mitchell does is a bit of a stretch. However, throughout my short lifetime, I’ve never established fully-formed roots. As somewhat of a wanderer, I let the visions of the bright sun, the burning hot empanadas at the local farmer’s market, the homemade popsicles in the summertime, the music videos my sister would make, the time our friend threw up on our trampoline and so many other moments store themselves in the “To Revisit” section of my mind. I had a strong and lingering conviction that I would return to California. It was always the place I wanted to come back to, just as it was for Joni Mitchell.
Now that I am here, I cannot say Palo Alto rings similar to the experience of San Diego (not that I expected it to, either). But it’s still California. It still has that enthralling, romantic component that so many artists have articulated.
Joni Mitchell and I ask this state the same question: “Will you take me as I am?” Strung out on so many other things? With nearly everything and everyone I know thousands of miles away? I think California is yet to answer. It could be my future, which would be a sentimental conclusion to the story of someone who was born here. Or maybe after a few years, the east coast will be the home I long to venture back to — my new figurative California. No matter the outro, I’m glad to be here in this moment.