Feminist Music Geek

Laura Nyro; image courtesy of worldofkane.blogspot.com

The late Laura Nyro, the lady for whom I devote today’s post was a real voice for women coming of age in the latter half of the 1960s, performing at such hallowed, storied festivals as the Monterrey Pop Festival. Many of her peers admired her clear voice and challenging bric-a-brac jazzy pop compositions, some of which were covered by people like The 5th Dimension. Joni Mitchell considered her one of her few female musical contemporaries. Steves as diverse as The Blues Project’s Steve Katz to composer Stephen Sondheim loved “Stoned Soul Picnic,” the former of whom argued that it should be America’s national anthem. Move over, Francis Scott Key!

Yet how come I’ve only listened to her recently, after years of only hearing her name? How come my partner, whose parents were totally of the love generation (while my mother was not), had never even heard of her? Maybe you haven’t either.

In Sheila Weller’s book Girls Like Us, the author supposes that the reasons for Nyro’s obscurity are two-fold: 1. Her music was too complicated. 2. She wasn’t pretty.

As I know Weller is critical of these reasons, please read my next sentence as being removed from being critical toward the author. These reasons are total bullshit. Her music was too complicated? I find that hard to believe — I mean, were they more complicated than Joni Mitchell’s? If Nyro had gotten started around the time of, say, a Patti Smith or a Kate Bush, I don’t think this would have been an issue for her. Because of a Laura Nyro, someone like Joanna Newsom can wield a harp for long stretches while singing abstract narratives in a voice that recalls Lisa Simpson.

By the way, while Newsom is admittedly a rad harp player, I’ve warmed from “the emperor is naked” to “yeah, fine.” Ys was good. That said, I can do a pretty mean impression of her, and will launch into it with a gentle nudge.

The second reason, while more logical in terms of how mass culture is filtered through and framed by patriarchy, makes more sense. Nyro wasn’t pretty. What is really meant by this statement is that Nyro was normal looking, with an in-between body type. She wasn’t stick-thin and built for the mini-dresses and tight jeans created with a Joni Mitchell or a Michelle Phillips in mind. She also wasn’t fat like Cass Elliot, who was often cast as the earth mother before her death (when she has since become, by turns, a tragedy or a punch line).

But Nyro wasn’t pretty? Bullshit. Just watch her sing. Hear and watch. It’s amazing what doing an activity that clearly enlivens and excites you will do to your face, especially when the activity is as of-the-body as singing. For this exercise I elect the song I’d like to consider for our national anthem, “Save the Country.” Enjoy.