Refreshed

LAURA NYRO
Eli and the Thirteenth Confession
New York Tendaberry
LAURA NYRO AND LABELLE
Gonna Take a Miracle
(Columbia/Legacy)
The late Laura Nyro has always enjoyed a stellar reputation within the circles of musical cognoscenti. Though her name would probably induce puzzled head-scratching from casual music fans who don't closely peruse songwriter credits on other folks' albums, it's revered by critics and diehards who look beyond the top 40 for inspiration. Nyro recorded a relatively small number of records between her 1966 debut and her death from ovarian cancer in 1997, but they're all treasured by her cult audience, and all have their charms. Arguably, however, her most fruitful period came with her signing to Columbia in the late 60s. More Than a New Discovery, her debut for Verve/Forecast, had tanked commercially, though it had spawned hits for the Fifth Dimension ("Wedding Bell Blues," "Blowin' Away"), Blood, Sweat & Tears ("And When I Die") and even Barbra Streisand ("Stoney End"). But on the strength of that album and her idiosyncratic performance at the Monterey Pop festival, she found herself with future music biz mogul David Geffen in her corner, and it was through his persistence and influence that she found herself sharing a label with Miles Davis and Bob Dylan.

The breadth of music by her labelmates is telling, as Nyro herself couldn't be pinned down to one genre. Soul, folk, jazz, blues, rock & roll, Broadway show tunes and gospel intermingled in her music so seamlessly it was impossible to tell where one strain left off and another began; while such eclecticism is often taken for granted now, in the late 60s neither audiences nor record companies knew what to do with an artist so shamelessly versatile. As a result, Nyro never gained more than a cult audience, despite the many covers of her tunes by contemporary hitmakers. But her best work has earned its lofty reputation as classic musical art, and the visionary quality of her music can be heard in the work of Rickie Lee Jones, Todd Rundgren, Steely Dan, Tori Amos, Phoebe Snow and a host of others. Her records hold up extremely well even today.

Eli and the Thirteenth Confession, released in 1968 and her first album for Columbia, is usually designated her greatest work and it's easy to hear why. Barely 21 when she recorded it, Nyro somehow created a timeless classic with its own distinctive sound and style. Her complex songs meld melodies derived from Tin Pan Alley, blues and folk music to jazz harmonies and Motown rhythms. Add to this her introspective lyrics, which draw equally from Romantic poetry and the language of the blues, and you have what was then a totally unique combination. It's a brew that present-day musicians would have no problem quaffing, but at the time sidemen had difficulty keeping it down, as evidenced by her near-disastrous Monterey show with an ill-equipped backup band. Producer Charlie Callelo knew how to capture her in the studio, however, and the combination of experienced, adventurous studio pros with Nyro's astonishing material strikes gold. The rhythm section follows her frequent tempo changes in anthems like "Once It Was Alright (Farmer Joe)" and "Eli's Comin'" (later a hit for Three Dog Night) with fluid precision, and the horn section augments her nimble piano licks perfectly. Callelo wisely eschews backing singers, allowing Nyro's stunning voice, a clear-toned soprano that's as soulful an instrument as any of the greatest gospel singers, to soar unhampered by harmonies. Both her lyrics and singing find the middle ground between the sensual and the spiritual, the sacred and the profane, if you will, with numerous references to God as well as intimations of the more physical aspects of romance. Like Van Morrison, she finds love to be the greatest gift from on high, and its expression is her benediction and baptism. She moves from the unabashed poetry of lines like "Kisses from you/In the flames of December's boudoir/They fill me like melons"(from "December's Boudoir") to the equally unbridled lust of "My lover's mouth/Been so good to me" ("Woman's Blues"), and makes the pairing of both seem natural. Most explicit in its sexual spirituality, Nyro earthily declares "Love my lovething/Super ride inside my lovething" and "I would love to love you baby/Would you love to love me baby" in the gentle but passionate "The Confession," closing with a line that is her virtual theme: "Love is surely gospel." From the psychedelic folk rock of "Poverty Train" to the music hall soul of "Lu," no stylistic detour is beyond Nyro's grasp, no lyrical whimsy out of her range, no performance without emotional heft and poetic grace. With the addition of three voice-and-piano demos (including "Stoned Soul Picnic," which would become another hit in the hands of the Fifth Dimension), Eli and the Thirteenth Confession solidifies its status as not only the finest work of a remarkable career, but one of the most astounding albums to come out of the 60s.

The follow-up, 1969's New York Tendaberry, is less a progression than a refinement. Conceived as a love letter to Nyro's beloved hometown, the record was created in stages, with producer Roy Halee recording her solo at her piano, then adding arranger Jimmie Haskell's orchestrations later. Nyro shifts the rhythms according to her whim, moving from soft to loud, slow to fast, sedate to aggressive at the drop of a hat, always following her own emotional instinct. She also hones her idiosyncratic but beautifully melodic mixture of soul, jazz, blues and Tin Pan Alley to a razor-sharp point on tunes like "Time and Love." Yet the musicians organized by Haskell and Halee manage to keep up with her anyway, adding tasteful accompaniment to dramatic songs like "Mercy on Broadway, "Captain For Dark Mornings" and "Save the Country," the gospel anthem that's the easy standout on this record. (A truncated single version, produced by Bones Howe, is also included and provides a fascinating contrast.) Her lyrics this time out are more impressionist and elusive, though rarely obscure; she sings lines like "So winter froze the river/And winter birds don't sing/So winter makes you shiver/So time is gonna bring you spring" (from "Time and Love") with just as much passion and soul as straightforward sentiments like "I want to die/You don't love me when I cry" ("You Don't Love Me When I Cry"). The title track is a gorgeous invocation of the Big Apple's spirit—"You look like a city/But you feel like a religion to me," she sings—and it closes out the album (save for the two bonus tracks tacked on to this edition) in sweet style. (more)

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