If there are 'perfect' albums, Blue has as much right to claim that title as any other I can think of. Sure there are sidemen, but pure Joni Mitchel, the soul of the young woman, her strained, almost oriental, guitar plucking, pour through the speakers. This album is spun of tears and laughter. "My Old Man" reveals an ironic portrait with full brush stokes of love, hurt, and honesty like you can only hear in a few rare gems like John Stewart's "Cheyenne" and Randy Newman's "Marie." "California" is a good candidate for a trilogy set with John Mayall's "Walkin' Down Sunset" and a song he too calls "California." The lyrics and delivery of the title song could serve to define the word 'blue' as well as anything you will find in any dictionary, or on Beale Street or in the French Quarter, for that matter. There's not a song here that is less than captivating, less than everything a song should be. The Stones were wrong. Once in a while it's the singer AND the song.