Carey by Joni Mitchell Lyrics Meaning – Unraveling the Tapestry of Nostalgia and Escape
Lyrics
Last night I couldn’t sleep
Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here, Carey
But it’s really not my home
My fingernails are filthy
I’ve got beach tar on my feet
And I miss my clean white linen and my fancy French cologne
Oh Carey, get out your cane (Carey, get out your cane)
And I’ll put on some silver (I’ll put on some silver)
Oh, you’re a mean old Daddy, but I like you fine
Come on down to the Mermaid Cafe
And I will buy you a bottle of wine
And we’ll laugh and toast to nothing and
Smash our empty glasses down
Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
A round for these friends of mine
Let’s have another round for the bright red devil, who
Keeps me in this tourist town
Come on, Carey, get out your cane (Carey, get out your cane)
And I’ll put on some silver (I’ll put on some silver)
Oh, you’re a mean old Daddy, but I like you
I like you, I like you, I like you
Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam
Or maybe I’ll go to Rome
And rent me a grand piano and put some flowers ’round my room
But let’s not talk about fare-thee-wells now
The night is a starry dome
And they’re playin’ that scratchy rock and roll
Beneath the Matala Moon
Come on, Carey, get out your cane (Carey, get out your cane)
And I’ll put on some silver (I’ll put on some silver)
You’re a mean old Daddy, but I like you
The wind is in from Africa
Last night I couldn’t sleep
Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here, but it’s
Really not my home
Maybe it’s been too long a time since I was
Scramblin’ down in the street
Now they got me used to that clean white linen and that
Fancy French cologne
Oh Carey, get out your cane (Carey, get out your cane)
I’ll put on my finest silver (I’ll put on some silver)
We’ll go to the Mermaid Cafe, have fun tonight
I said, oh, you’re a mean old Daddy, but you’re out of sight
Encapsulating a mosaic of emotions against a backdrop of Greek isles, Joni Mitchell’s ‘Carey’ is more than a melodic jaunt; it’s a raw reflection of wanderlust, nostalgia, and self-discovery. With its striking imagery and folk rock resonance, ‘Carey’ captures the zeitgeist of the early ’70s, propelling listeners into the heart of Mitchell’s bohemian odyssey.
Born from a sabbatical in the bohemian haven of Matala, Crete, ‘Carey’ is an intrepid traveler’s memoir that flutters with the complexity of Mitchell’s textured experiences. Each verse unfolds like a creased map, charting a course through the craggy landscapes of memory and moment.
The Winds of Change and the Comforts of the Familiar
Mitchell’s opening lines are suffused with the tension between the allure of the exotic and the comforts of the familiar. The sleepless night, ‘the wind is in from Africa’, speaks to a mind stirred by distant adventures, yet the declaration that this exciting, yet transient, place is ‘really not my home’ is a longing for the familiar—the ‘clean white linen’ and ‘fancy French cologne’.
The juxtaposition of ‘filthy fingernails’ and beach tar with nostalgic luxuries paints a vivid portrait of a traveler caught between two worlds: one’s untethered freedom and the other’s structured elegance. It’s a duality that resonates with any sojourner who has felt the tug-of-war between the road’s liberation and home’s comforting embrace.
An Ode to the Rough Edges: Embracing the Imperfect
‘Oh, you’re a mean old Daddy, but I like you fine’—these lines sketch an affection for imperfection and the allure of the unrefined. Carey, presumably a companion on this journey, embodies the ‘mean old Daddy’, a figure both endearing and flawed. Mitchell finds comfort in this complexity, an embrace of life’s rougher textures.
The song’s chorus revolves around this celebration of raw humanity. It’s a toast to those who don’t glimmer but rather shine with a more subdued, lived-in patina. The ‘mean old Daddy’ is not just a person but a metaphor for those experiences and individuals who challenge us yet charm us with their candid realness.
A Merry Band of Misfits: The Community of the Wayward
Delving deeper into the song’s heart, ‘a round for these freaks and these soldiers’ is a salute to the chosen family of outsiders and wayfarers. It’s a celebration at the Mermaid Cafe, a sanctuary for the ones living on the tangents of society. Mitchell’s lyrics crystallize the momentary kinship found in such transient communities.
This transient kinship offers a shared sense of momentary belonging amidst the nomadic lifestyle. In raising a glass ‘for these friends of mine’, Mitchell encapsulates the deep connections that can be formed in the most fleeting of circumstances—a testament to the enduring human need for companionship and recognition, no matter where life takes us.
The Siren Call of Freedom in ‘Carey’s Hidden Meanings
Peering through the song’s lens, listeners discover layers of symbolism and hidden meanings. Amsterdam and Rome are not merely destinations but symbols of potential, of paths not yet taken. The grand piano adorned with flowers is not just an object but an autobiographical window into Mitchell’s soul—a musician’s creative sanctuary.
The ‘bright red devil’ keeps Mitchell in the tourist town, a nod to the temptations and vices that entangle one in a place of transient pleasures. It’s a whisper of inner conflict—the seduction of a carefree life that dances on the strings of one’s more profound, existential yearnings.
‘Put on Some Silver’: The Memorable Lines that Define Liberation
The recurrent entreaty to ‘put on some silver’ serves as a motif of self-expression and joyous rebellion. It’s a signal to dress up not for others, but for the sheer delight of it, and to revel in the freedom of the night, regardless of its eventual end. This line is quintessential Mitchell: an invitation to experience life in its full, radiant splendor.
The song’s final stanzas bring a full-circle echo of its beginning—the return of the African wind, the restless night. Yet now, there’s recognition in Mitchell’s voice: of the personal growth gleaned from her journey and the almost gravitational pull back to the security of the known. It is a serene acceptance that even the most fervent escapist must eventually reconcile their free spirit with the rhythms of a life less wild.
