Bob Gluck's Blog

One of entries in this blog that continues to regularly find new readers is a piece I wrote in August 2013 about Laura Nyro and Miles Davis at the Fillmore East. I noticed this only recently, but it now leads me to add a second piece about Laura Nyro. This entry treats a recording released not long after the blog essay, a set of wondrous interpretations by Billy Childs of Nyro’s music. I dedicate this piece to my partner, Pamela Lerman, who has loved Laura Nyro’s music forever and ever and deeply appreciates Childs’ interpretations.

I have long admired Laura Nyro as a songwriter and a singer. I had the good fortune of hearing her perform twice, in 1975 or 76, around the release of Smile, and in 1995, at a small club in the mid-Hudson Valley nearing the end of her life. Nyro’s work fully gained my attention when I heard New York Tenderberry in college. I admired the depth and nuance of Nyro’s melodies, so often paired with sophisticated and thoughtful song structures and arrangements. Her lyrics were (and remain) evocative and poetic and strengthened in their poignance by her impassioned delivery. After moving several hours distance from New York City and its environs, where I grew up, I’d periodically find myself thinking about the album’s songs which seemed so clearly to evoke the City of my birth and to which I’ve periodically returned.

In the early 2000s, I returned to Laura Nyro’s music, which became a focus of a few of the concerts I gave at that time. The idea of doing something larger with these songs remained in the back of my mind until I put that idea to rest upon the release of Billy Childs’ Map to the Treasure, in 2014. I listened to the album many times when it first came out (and soon after, I had the fortune of attending a live performance in New York City of the music), and I find myself returning to it again and again. Laura Nyro’s work had, for me, always presented a musical paradox – how could one recast rather than reiterate Nyro’s own versions of her music – but Billy Childs had found a path that emphatically answered my question.

I was well prepared for Childs’ lush arrangements after hearing a work he composed for the Kronos string quartet and his own jazz quartet, performed in 2010. His timbrally keen ear netted an effective blend of the sumptuous sounds of a string quartet with the balance of a broad instrumental pallet – the incisive clarity of the piano, the sizzle of cymbals, and the penetrating warmth of a saxophone. The interplay between composed segments and improvisatory solos rendered this well-crafted work musically compelling.

I first become aware of Billy during his late 1970s-early 1980s tenure with Freddie Hubbard’s band. Also in the band was Child’s friend from childhood, bassist Larry Klein. Klein’s subsequent career as producer is well known, for good reason. His work on Billy Child’s Map to the Treasure reflects this skillfulness and imagination (also found on Herbie Hancock’s River, the Joni Letters (2007). Childs’ career as a jazz pianist had always run in parallel with his steady development as a gifted instrumental composer of music for orchestra and chamber ensembles. His college degree is in fact in musical composition. Childs’ place in the world of composed music extends to significant organization work, which includes a term in the mid-2010s as president of Chamber Music America.

One of the substantial challenges in crafting Map to the Treasure was surely how to select singers best suited to the emotional and dynamic qualities of each individual song. Childs and Klein scouted across a wide array of possibilities, netting consistently effective (while sometimes surprising) pairings. I would not have expected opera soprano Renée Fleming to sing the opening track “New York Tendaberry” (the title song of Nyro’s 1969 album by that name). But the choice works really well, and for this plus the arrangement and instrumentals, the recording was awarded a Grammy. Maybe selecting an opera singer shouldn’t in fact have been all that much of a surprise given Herbie Hancock’s choice of Kathleen Battle for his 1998 album, Gershwin’s World. Or maybe the idea of categorizing any singer, irrespective of the source of their reputation, is of limited use.

Backed by cellist Yo-Yo Ma, Fleming begins the song in her huskier low register. As the song proceeds through Nyro’s poetic sound play, her marked consistency of tone and quiet intensity is uplifted by sustained low strings, as she sings: “A rush on rum / Of brush and drum…” The instrumentation thins as if suspended in time while the lyrics continue “And the past is a blue note / Inside me…” The pace speeds up ever so slightly towards a cadence punctuated by the piano and cymbals (Brian Blades plays drums on this and the subsequent three tracks), underscoring the words “So I ran away in the morning.”

The second verse begins in the framework of a jazz ballad, slow and stately; a cello obligato suddenly opens the door to a rich, harp embroidered repetition of the words “blue berry.” The listener perceives the pace as again picking up, this time even more, with Debussy-esque broken chords in the strings as Fleming sings broadly and at times breathily, carefully evenly marking the time.

The level of emotional intensity builds as Fleming sings “Now I’m back, unpacked.” What follows is a beautifully coloristic instrumental segment joined by a cello counter melody played by Yo-Yo Ma. The music crescendos, building to a frenzied pitch, setting up an emotional high point as Fleming sings “You look like a city / But you feel like religion to me.” I find myself resisting literal interpretation of this coming of age song of love and loss, departure and return, pain and self-discovery. I’d prefer to allow Nyro’s use of language stand as-is with its hints, allusions, and pure joy in alliteration. Nyro’s lyrics are innately musical in themselves. Billy Childs goes further than Nyro by dramatizing poignant phrases and the overall poetic arc of this and every subsequent song.

An impassioned cello passage carries us into the third stanza, which Fleming delivers as a regal ballad, “… Where Quakers and revolutionaries…” but Childs’ surprises us by once again dramatically increasing the musical intensity, musically underscoring Nyro’s words: “Join for life / For precious years…” This is reinforced with a piano-led ostinato before the instrumentals seemingly vaporize. We enter a beautiful vocal-cello duet articulating the penultimate words, with Fleming then sustaining the final syllable “tears.” This provides a bridge to Billy Child’s languid piano solo, backed by a quiet pizzicato strings ostinato. The song concludes with a final solo cello line’ Fleming rearticulates the words “New York Tendaberry.”

“The Confession” (Eli and the Thirteenth Confession, 1968) looks to Becca Stevens to interpret this song of sexual awakening. Billy Childs captures well the happy go lucky, innocent opening, “Super summer sugar coppin’ / In the mornin’ / Do your shoppin’ baby.” In her own version, Nyro’s understated and intimate vocal treatment garbs her “confession” of previously unspoken longing and anxiety. Billy Childs alternates the song’s most tender, internal moments – the refrains “Would you love to love me baby? / I would love to love you baby now,” her pained anguish, “Oh I hate my winsome lover… But tell him he held my heart…,” and instances of self-reflection “I keep hearin’ mother cryin’ / I keep hearin’ daddy through his grave” – with hints of a substantive change ahead. Nyro declares “Super ride inside my lovething” and then assertively and exuberantly declares in self-affirmation, a blend of sexual and religious language, “Love my love thing / Love is surely gospel.” The latter is set by Childs within a rhythmically pulsing musical backdrop that leads to a rollicking, extroverted electric piano solo by Childs, maybe evoking Ramsey Lewis.

The third track is Lisa Fischer’s understated yet soaring rendition of Nyro’s song of yearning for love from someone who loves someone else, “Map to the Treasure” (Christmas and the Beads of Sweat, 1970). Billy Child’s arrangement takes an optimistic turn at “Take my hand now / There is a land now / In the treasure of love,” backed by rhythmic piano comping and broken chords and by a sonorous pizzicato bass line. The impressionism of Laura Nyro’s lyrics are paralleled in Child’s colorful orchestration. Quiet, sustained descending string notes then accompany the optimistic words “Come to me baby / You got the look that I adore, that I understand / My pretty medicine man.”

The fourth track, “Upstairs by a Chinese Lamp” (New York Tendaberry, 1969) opens with shimmering strings, wind chimes, and sonorous piano, setting the stage for the song’s rich poetic language, “women buy Milk, tobacco, soap and matches… Spring whispered in her ear / Like soft Mediterranean wailin’.” Esperanza Spalding’s gentle voice captures the breezy quality of the song, punctuated with Wayne Shorter’s darting soprano saxophone. The lyric “You could hear the woman sing / In the soft flames of spring” is followed by a more extensive Shorter solo backed by Brian Blades’ drums, bass, and Childs, displaying the pianist’s gifts as an accompanist. This leads into the core piano motif that Laura Nyro composed for the opening, which in the original served as a leitmotif for this song. Spaulding concludes, following the lyrics “Winds caress, undress, invite / Upstairs by a china lamp / They softly talk in the cool spring night,” with a sweet vocalization: “la-la-la-la-la…”

In contrast, Rickie Lee Jones’ delivery of Nyro’s reportorial depiction of a discovering a dying drug addict, “Been on a Train” (Christmas and the Beads of Sweat, 1970) captures the grim scene. The song opens with expressionistic string quartet sonorities, followed by a spare tom-tom beat punctuated by a periodic two-note descending string figure. The double meaning of the word “tracks” appears during quicker, steadily pulsing repeated chord, also on the strings, and Jones’ vocals turn more anguished “no, no, damn you mister,” answered by an intense, angular solo by saxophonist Chris Potter, prefacing the hopelessness of the addicted man, to whom Nyro’s character responds with “I’m going to sing my song for you” yet “I’m never going to be the same.” The crisp drumming on “Been on a Train” is by Vinnie Colaiuta, who also plays on the subsequent tracks.

Billy Childs follows the tragic tone of “Been on a Train” with the light, upbeat “Stoned Soul Picnic,” sung by Ledisi. The lyrics “There’ll be lots of time and wine / Red yellow honey / Sassafras and moonshine” call to mind a carefree time, reinforced by the funk-inflected rhythmic repetition of the word “surry.” Childs’ setting also captures Nyro’s impressionistic painterly side, referencing “trains” here in a manner in sharp contrast to “Been on Train.” Now, the lyric “There’ll be trains of blossoms / There’ll be trains of music / There’ll be trains of trust” is supported with harp and gentle strings. Ledisi’s vocal delivery continues broadly across a circle of fifths progression into a cadence. This heralds a return of the cheerful opening mood. This time, the rhythmic patterns guide us into a funky acoustic piano solo, out of which the song fades. Yet the track continues with a segue to the next song, by means of an abstract, pointalistic string segment.

Susan Tedeschi delivers a powerful yet nuanced reading of “Gibsom Street” (New York Tendaberry, 1969). Each of the multiple emotional meanings found within this alternately mysterious, menacing, and assertive song find their place in Billy Child’s rendition. A paradoxically upbeat musical setting becomes the container for the lyric “they hang the alley cats on gibsom street.” A more plaintive musical environment, embroidered by saxophonist Steve Wilson shapes the lyric “I wish to keep my mirror hidden.” The music builds into grand Broadway swagger when Tedeschi continues: “to hide the eyes that looked on gibsom street.”

An introspective piano solo then casts the music in a darker mood. Childs’ chromaticism leads into rapid fire pianistic runs, bridging into a rhythmically pulsing ostinato played by the band. Layered above these phrases are repetitions of the melody (without vocals) to “all my sorrow, all my loving,” upon which Steve Wilson solos to fevered pitch. The ostinato builds and the door opens to Tedeschi’s joining with the lyrics to the phrase, again and again. A mood of foreboding returns, as Childs repeats low bass notes on the piano while the vocal continues. This is followed by a lighter mood which is brought into question when Wilson presents broken shards of saxophone lines, paired with pointillistic strings.

Chris Botti’s trumpet (Childs was for several years, Botti’s musical director and pianist) plays a mournful-yet-hinting-at-hopeful opening to “Save the Country” (New York Tendaberry, 1969). This song first gained fame by The Fifth Dimension. Vocalist Shawn Colvin brings to it a simple, wistful reading, a reminder of the optimism and determination of the Civil Rights and anti-war movement era: “I got fury in my soul / Fury’s gonna take me / To the glory goal / In my mind I can’t study war no more.” Botti’s solo, over sustained strings and spare piano comping, is bittersweet, befitting a period of hope and its complex, only partially fulfilled legacy. Billy Childs’ piano chorale provides a bridge to Colvin’s return, this time declaring optimistically “we can build the dream with love.” Sustained strings provide support. The song concludes with a broadly stated piano accompaniment, aligned with Colvin’s assertion of Nyro’s lyric, that we can “save the country now.” Botti’s trumpet coda restores the mood of the introduction.

“To a Child” (Mother’s Spiritual, 1984) is given a whimsical opening befitting this meditation on Nyro’s hopes for her newborn baby. Dianne Reeves’ gentle and emotionally subtle approach provides the most straight forward treatment of any of the songs on the album. Yet the strength and consistency of her voice, paired with Billy Child’s expansive mid-song instrumental chamber music segment, renders this as lovely a rendition as Nyro’s original. Child’s harmonic development of Nyro’s form adds enormous depth, particularly as Reeves articulates the closing words “And if I smile as you reach / above the climbin’ bars / To see the stars… Wish you harmony…” followed by Reeve’s soft, deeply felt vocalizations.

It would be easy to imagine that Billy Childs’s setting of “And When I Die” (More Than a New Discovery, 1967) was designed for Alison Krauss. The gentle guitar picking, piano punctuation, ticking of the drums, sustained strings, and dobro guitar (played by Jerry Douglas) render this an aspirational statement of personal freedom, acknowledgement of the finitude of life, and a recognition that a new generation will follow. This strikes me as quite different in tone than the upbeat anthem made famous by Blood, Sweat and Tears. The repeated refrain (sung in harmony by Allison Krauss and Dan Tyminski) “Don’t want to go by the devil / don’t want to go by the demon / don’t want to go by Satan / don’t want to die uneasy” builds suspense as the song moves towards its conclusion, “And when I die / And when I’m gone / There’ll be one child born / And a world to carry on.”

All in all, I just love this album, and find myself returning to it again and again. It is not my practice to write “record reviews.” I’ve done that just once in the past, and like that time, this wasn’t really my intent here either. I must say, though, that this one is on my “desert island” short list, as are Laura Nyro’s own versions of these and other songs.

This album was released in 2014 by Sony Masterworks

~ by bobgluck on April 11, 2024.

Posted in great musical thinkers, memories, Memories of shows, metahpor, metaphor, musical content, musical perception, Personal notes, Reflections on musical context, religion and music
Tags: album-review, album-reviews, Allison Krauss, And When I Die, Been on a Train, billy childs, Blood Sweat and Tears, chamber music, Chris Botti, chris potter, Christmas and the Beads of Sweat, debussy, Dianne Reeves, eli and the thirteenth confession, Esperanza Spaulding, Gibsom Street, herbie hancock, jazz, jazz ensemble, jazz fusion, jazz piano, Jerry Douglas, Joni mitchell, Larry Klein, laura nyro, Ledisi, Map to the Treasure, miles davis, More than a New Discovery, music, new york tendaberry, renee fleming, Rickie Lee Jones, Shawn Colvin, Stoned Soul Picnic, Susan Tedeschi, the confession, To a child, Upstairs by a Chinese Lamp, wayne shorter, yo-yo ma