Aimee Mann Wishes She Had a River She Could Skate Away on...

Joni Mitchell must be the elder, milder-in-temperament sister of Aimee Mann.

If I were to put their portraits side-by-side, they would both be smiling: Joni Mitchell's would be wistful and Aimee Mann's would be sarcastic. But both smiles will be sad, that I'm quite sure of. Both will have a look of (faintly feigned) smugness about them--hey, they've both been there (wherever or whatever that may be), but Joni has emerged wise, knowing she's alive and has to make the best of things, anyway; while Aimee came out angry, struggling against her walls, realizing she's alive and that she has to live with it, anyway.

And so they wrote songs, and these songs were things they've said to each other, long, lonely conversations they've had on those nights when they held vigils under a watchful moon, or on those grey afternoons when there was nothing one could do but to keep one's mind company. They must've had grand times, laughing at the rest of the world because they knew that they knew more than the others did. But they must have argued, as well, oh yes, 'cause one of them was angry, don't forget, and one of them, wise. I'd like to think that it was Joni who usually won, but Aimee wouldn't have given up without putting up a fight. It didn't matter that she realized Joni was right, after all. It just wasn't in her to show that she agreed.