Thank you so much for this. I've been a fan of Laura's from the start, and I know her music like I know the back of my hand. But your writing this made me experience her magic all over again. I was lucky enough to see Laura and then her return in 1975 and then see her final return in the 90s. There was never any other artist like her. Even Joni Mitchell admits that she took inspiration from Laura.
There's a quote from Joni saying that she'd be OK with being compared to Laura Nyro. I wish I could have been around to have seen her live, especially when Miles Davis opened for her at the Fillmore in June 1970. Now that would have been something else!
Glad you liked the start of the essay - I tried to find the words to describe how her music feels which is hard. It never gets old, it never feels stale. The excitement I felt when I first really heard it remains 20-plus years later.
Over the past few months and years I’ve often thought of your last foray into the head and heart of Laura Nyro — it meant so much to me! I wrote something in the Comments then about how I’d long felt that when I die I want to go to wherever Laura Nyro went. And now you’ve gone back and taken an even deeper dive into her work — I look forward to see where you’ll take us next, with parts two and three. Thank you.
Thank you, Bill. To think that she was 17 when she wrote 'And When I Die.' Laura was on a different level!
I got the big Madfish CD set about a month ago and got lost in the vortex and just felt the need to go deeper and try to sum it all up. Part two will deal with the seventies and part three will be about everything that came after (it's only been in the last month that I have heard everything she released after 'Nested').
As you've mentioned that you were working on this, I've been excited to see the final results and this is wonderful.
Reading it, I feel a variety of emotions. Enjoyment of your appreciation for Laura Nyro, of course, and it also makes me think that I can't recall the last album that I listened to all the way through eight times. There are many albums that I could say that about, but none recently. It is a comment on the coincidences and circumstances that shape what music is braided into our lives.
Obviously it's not possible to listen to all of the wonderful music in the world with that attention, so we pick and chose, sometimes consciously and sometimes by happenstance what music we hold dear. I salute you for honoring that connection in your essay.
Also, thinking of New York, it also makes me think about My Dinner With Andre (one of my favorite films) and the sense of the New York as a place that can be exhausting and inspiring. Intense, and overwhelming with room for so much searching.
Thank you, Nick! The comparison to 'My Dinner With Andre' is apt. When I saw it, I didn't think of a connection to Laura Nyro and her music but it's there. I also feel it in Chantal Akerman's News From Home.
I also can't recall the last album I listened to eight times (and prior to the past month, I had listened to 'Eli and the Thirteenth Confession' many times!) but, as I write in the essay, each time, it knocked me out. She wrote the album when she was 19 and recorded it when she was 20 - that, in itself, is stunning considering how complex and deep the music is. I came to her music at the right time - the day after a deeply exciting trip to New York - and it just hit me so hard - it was the same feeling the first time I heard Duke Ellington, for example, (and to me, she is at the level of Ellington) and how others felt when they first heard her music. Charlie Calello's story of hearing her perform 'Eli...' in her apartment and being barely able to speak afterwards resonates deeply with me, both as an example of how powerful her music is but that it was exactly how I felt.
Thinking about it now, I realize that I thought of My Dinner With Andre not only as a companion New York piece (which it is) but also because Wallace Shawn's arc is a more dramatic version of the story about Artie Mogull in the piece. He starts out trying to fit Andre Gregory into a comfortably structure and ends up appreciating the insights from Gregory's boundary-pushing.
And, yes, of course you've listened to 'Eli and the Thirteenth Confession' more than eight times in total, but I was still struck by that note about both giving attention and fully entering the world of the album.
Any time you do that it says something both about the album (which is brilliant) and about you. That, of the various brilliant recordings in the world this music has spoken to you. I appreciated that aspect of the piece.
(I do wonder if you may intimidate some readers with the comment, "There is, at least it’s what I have found, no such thing as being a casual fan of hers. To answer that question: are you in or are you out?, the answer can only be one of two things: I am in as deep as can be or I am stuck on the outside, peering in . . . " For myself I am, more or less, a casual fan. I deeply appreciate some of her music but haven't ventured as deeply into her world as you have, but I appreciate you marking the path inward . . . )
I hope you feel better soon and will enjoy the first part of the essay. Spreading the word about Laura Nyro is one of the reasons I do this work, and immersing myself in her music (and continuing to do so - I still have lots to write!) have been a joy and invigorating.
Great essay! She was very influential on other musicians, in particular Todd Rundgren who was "knocked out" (his words) by her first album. On his first album Runt, the song "Baby Let's Swing" is for/about Laura, and her influence is very evident on his next LP Ballad of TR as well.
Thank you. Mr. Gilbert for you this stunning piece. I can’t say I was a Nyro obsessive from the beginning — I had to work my way backward from Gonna Take a Miracle, released when I was 12. But over the ensuing 54 years, my enthusiasm has never waned. (Meanwhile I fell in and out of love with the Beatles a half-dozen times).
You capture the essence of Nyro’s music with not just passion , but precise, musically literate detail. (The latter is conspicuously absent in almost anything I’ve read about her.) That’s particularly true of your passages regarding New York Tendaberry, which for me remains the loftiest peak among her greatest albums. Bravo.
My career has toggled between musician and music journalist. I’ve been privileged to record and perform with great songwriters (Tom Waits, Tracy Chapman, PJ Harvey, etc.) and I’ve been lucky enough to interview hundreds of artists (everyone from Ray Charles to Ennio Morricone). But one of the great disappointments of both careers was never having the opportunity to talk to or play with Laura Nyro.
I’m eager to read your take on the latter part of her career. Like many, I lost the thread a bit from Smile onward, though I did see a fantastic show during the Season of Lights tour, and even better, a solo performance at the Roxy in LA in 1977.
One of the nicer things about getting older is having the opportunity to listen to the same music from varying perspectives as you age. Experiencing Nyro’s music as a wide-eyed tween and as a jaded old musician are very different things! Listening back today, there’s is the occasional lyrical cringe. And while I wouldn’t use the word “shrill” to describe Nyro’s voice, listening to Eli or Tendaberry in its entirety can be a sonically exhausting experience.
But I still get chills whenever I hear “Little girl of all the daughters, you were born a woman not a slave.”
Thank you. Mr. Gilbert for you this stunning piece. I can’t say I was a Nyro obsessive from the beginning — I had to work my way backward from Gonna Take a Miracle, released when I was 12. But over the ensuing 54 years, my enthusiasm has never waned. (Meanwhile I fell in and out of love with the Beatles a half-dozen times).
You capture the essence of Nyro’s music with not just passion , but precise, musically literate detail. (The latter is conspicuously absent in almost anything I’ve read about her.) That’s particularly true of your passages regarding New York Tendaberry, which for me remains the loftiest peak among her greatest albums . Bravo.
My career has toggled between musician and music journalist. I’ve been privileged to record and perform with great songwriters (Tom Waits, Tracy Chapman, PJ Harvey, etc.) and I’ve been lucky enough to interview hundreds of artists (everyone from Ray Charles to Ennio Morricone). But one of the great disappointments of both careers was never having the opportunity to talk to or play with Laura Nyro.
I’m eager to read your take on the latter part of her career. Like many, I lost the thread a bit from Smile onward, though I did see a fantastic show during the Season of Lights tour, and even better, a solo performance at the Roxy in LA in 1977.
One of the nicer things about getting older is having the opportunity to listen to the same music from varying perspectives as you age. Experiencing Nyro’s music as a wide-eyed tween and as a jaded old musician are very different things! Listening back today, there’s is the occasional lyrical cringe. And while I wouldn’t use the word “shrill” to describe Nyro’s voice, listening to Eli or Tendaberry in its entirety can be a sonically exhausting experience.
But I still get chills whenever I hear “Little girl of all the daughters, you were born a woman not a slave.”
Thank you so much for this. I've been a fan of Laura's from the start, and I know her music like I know the back of my hand. But your writing this made me experience her magic all over again. I was lucky enough to see Laura and then her return in 1975 and then see her final return in the 90s. There was never any other artist like her. Even Joni Mitchell admits that she took inspiration from Laura.
There's a quote from Joni saying that she'd be OK with being compared to Laura Nyro. I wish I could have been around to have seen her live, especially when Miles Davis opened for her at the Fillmore in June 1970. Now that would have been something else!
Glad you liked the start of the essay - I tried to find the words to describe how her music feels which is hard. It never gets old, it never feels stale. The excitement I felt when I first really heard it remains 20-plus years later.
Over the past few months and years I’ve often thought of your last foray into the head and heart of Laura Nyro — it meant so much to me! I wrote something in the Comments then about how I’d long felt that when I die I want to go to wherever Laura Nyro went. And now you’ve gone back and taken an even deeper dive into her work — I look forward to see where you’ll take us next, with parts two and three. Thank you.
Thank you, Bill. To think that she was 17 when she wrote 'And When I Die.' Laura was on a different level!
I got the big Madfish CD set about a month ago and got lost in the vortex and just felt the need to go deeper and try to sum it all up. Part two will deal with the seventies and part three will be about everything that came after (it's only been in the last month that I have heard everything she released after 'Nested').
What a lovely opening essay.
As you've mentioned that you were working on this, I've been excited to see the final results and this is wonderful.
Reading it, I feel a variety of emotions. Enjoyment of your appreciation for Laura Nyro, of course, and it also makes me think that I can't recall the last album that I listened to all the way through eight times. There are many albums that I could say that about, but none recently. It is a comment on the coincidences and circumstances that shape what music is braided into our lives.
Obviously it's not possible to listen to all of the wonderful music in the world with that attention, so we pick and chose, sometimes consciously and sometimes by happenstance what music we hold dear. I salute you for honoring that connection in your essay.
Also, thinking of New York, it also makes me think about My Dinner With Andre (one of my favorite films) and the sense of the New York as a place that can be exhausting and inspiring. Intense, and overwhelming with room for so much searching.
Thank you, Nick! The comparison to 'My Dinner With Andre' is apt. When I saw it, I didn't think of a connection to Laura Nyro and her music but it's there. I also feel it in Chantal Akerman's News From Home.
I also can't recall the last album I listened to eight times (and prior to the past month, I had listened to 'Eli and the Thirteenth Confession' many times!) but, as I write in the essay, each time, it knocked me out. She wrote the album when she was 19 and recorded it when she was 20 - that, in itself, is stunning considering how complex and deep the music is. I came to her music at the right time - the day after a deeply exciting trip to New York - and it just hit me so hard - it was the same feeling the first time I heard Duke Ellington, for example, (and to me, she is at the level of Ellington) and how others felt when they first heard her music. Charlie Calello's story of hearing her perform 'Eli...' in her apartment and being barely able to speak afterwards resonates deeply with me, both as an example of how powerful her music is but that it was exactly how I felt.
Thinking about it now, I realize that I thought of My Dinner With Andre not only as a companion New York piece (which it is) but also because Wallace Shawn's arc is a more dramatic version of the story about Artie Mogull in the piece. He starts out trying to fit Andre Gregory into a comfortably structure and ends up appreciating the insights from Gregory's boundary-pushing.
And, yes, of course you've listened to 'Eli and the Thirteenth Confession' more than eight times in total, but I was still struck by that note about both giving attention and fully entering the world of the album.
Any time you do that it says something both about the album (which is brilliant) and about you. That, of the various brilliant recordings in the world this music has spoken to you. I appreciated that aspect of the piece.
(I do wonder if you may intimidate some readers with the comment, "There is, at least it’s what I have found, no such thing as being a casual fan of hers. To answer that question: are you in or are you out?, the answer can only be one of two things: I am in as deep as can be or I am stuck on the outside, peering in . . . " For myself I am, more or less, a casual fan. I deeply appreciate some of her music but haven't ventured as deeply into her world as you have, but I appreciate you marking the path inward . . . )
Robert, a sinus headache will keep me from this for today, but I want to tell you how grateful I am that you are doing it.
I hope you feel better soon and will enjoy the first part of the essay. Spreading the word about Laura Nyro is one of the reasons I do this work, and immersing myself in her music (and continuing to do so - I still have lots to write!) have been a joy and invigorating.
Great essay! She was very influential on other musicians, in particular Todd Rundgren who was "knocked out" (his words) by her first album. On his first album Runt, the song "Baby Let's Swing" is for/about Laura, and her influence is very evident on his next LP Ballad of TR as well.
Thank you. Mr. Gilbert for you this stunning piece. I can’t say I was a Nyro obsessive from the beginning — I had to work my way backward from Gonna Take a Miracle, released when I was 12. But over the ensuing 54 years, my enthusiasm has never waned. (Meanwhile I fell in and out of love with the Beatles a half-dozen times).
You capture the essence of Nyro’s music with not just passion , but precise, musically literate detail. (The latter is conspicuously absent in almost anything I’ve read about her.) That’s particularly true of your passages regarding New York Tendaberry, which for me remains the loftiest peak among her greatest albums. Bravo.
My career has toggled between musician and music journalist. I’ve been privileged to record and perform with great songwriters (Tom Waits, Tracy Chapman, PJ Harvey, etc.) and I’ve been lucky enough to interview hundreds of artists (everyone from Ray Charles to Ennio Morricone). But one of the great disappointments of both careers was never having the opportunity to talk to or play with Laura Nyro.
I’m eager to read your take on the latter part of her career. Like many, I lost the thread a bit from Smile onward, though I did see a fantastic show during the Season of Lights tour, and even better, a solo performance at the Roxy in LA in 1977.
One of the nicer things about getting older is having the opportunity to listen to the same music from varying perspectives as you age. Experiencing Nyro’s music as a wide-eyed tween and as a jaded old musician are very different things! Listening back today, there’s is the occasional lyrical cringe. And while I wouldn’t use the word “shrill” to describe Nyro’s voice, listening to Eli or Tendaberry in its entirety can be a sonically exhausting experience.
But I still get chills whenever I hear “Little girl of all the daughters, you were born a woman not a slave.”
Again, thanks for this superb article!
Whoopsie! Sorry for the double post.
Thank you. Mr. Gilbert for you this stunning piece. I can’t say I was a Nyro obsessive from the beginning — I had to work my way backward from Gonna Take a Miracle, released when I was 12. But over the ensuing 54 years, my enthusiasm has never waned. (Meanwhile I fell in and out of love with the Beatles a half-dozen times).
You capture the essence of Nyro’s music with not just passion , but precise, musically literate detail. (The latter is conspicuously absent in almost anything I’ve read about her.) That’s particularly true of your passages regarding New York Tendaberry, which for me remains the loftiest peak among her greatest albums . Bravo.
My career has toggled between musician and music journalist. I’ve been privileged to record and perform with great songwriters (Tom Waits, Tracy Chapman, PJ Harvey, etc.) and I’ve been lucky enough to interview hundreds of artists (everyone from Ray Charles to Ennio Morricone). But one of the great disappointments of both careers was never having the opportunity to talk to or play with Laura Nyro.
I’m eager to read your take on the latter part of her career. Like many, I lost the thread a bit from Smile onward, though I did see a fantastic show during the Season of Lights tour, and even better, a solo performance at the Roxy in LA in 1977.
One of the nicer things about getting older is having the opportunity to listen to the same music from varying perspectives as you age. Experiencing Nyro’s music as a wide-eyed tween and as a jaded old musician are very different things! Listening back today, there’s is the occasional lyrical cringe. And while I wouldn’t use the word “shrill” to describe Nyro’s voice, listening to Eli or Tendaberry in its entirety can be a sonically exhausting experience.
But I still get chills whenever I hear “Little girl of all the daughters, you were born a woman not a slave.”
Again, thanks for this superb article!