Laura nyro // eli + the thirteenth confession
Released in 1968, Laura Nyro’s Eli and the Thirteenth Confession is a stunning solo achievement: all the tracks are written, performed by, and produced by Nyro herself (something of a rarity for a woman in that era) and Nyro was only 21 at the time of the album’s release. This year, Rolling Stone named it one of their top 500 albums of all time. Yet it is still largely an underground sensation, as in its initial release it barely cracked the Billboard 200 and three of the songs went on to be top 20 hits for other artists covering Nyro’s work. The intensely personal work had a message it took me years to understand, long after it found a permanent place in my heart.
I discovered Eli in my sophomore year of college. A time of depression and self-discovery, I fell into the comfort of music and wore it like a security blanket. If the world didn’t quite understand me and I didn’t understand the world, at least there was Rufus Wainwright’s Want One, Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited, Joni Mitchell’s Blue, and Nyro’s Eli. Her voice felt instantly familiar, like the first time you meet someone you know will be a best friend. The unusual key and time signature changes reflected my direct experience of life: just when you think you recognize the pattern, it changes without warning.
The album starts with three absolute bops, upbeat tracks born of the 60s girl-group vibe. “Luckie,” “Lu” and “Sweet Blindness” are fun grooves, sonically deceptive in apparent simplicity while actually layered and complex (particularly “Sweet Blindness”). The album takes a turn with the fourth track, “Poverty Train.” Arguably Nyro’s finest performance both live and on the album, she slinks and slides to the bluesy, jangly barn burner of a song. A blues guitar opens the track and she wails “Last call for the poverty train,” emoting every line of the song with enough depth to make Billie Holiday envious.
“Lonely Women” and “Eli’s Comin’” follow, both extraordinary for different reasons. “Lonely Women” was written by Nyro at age 16, which is shocking given its musical twists and turns and lyrics that feel like a Tennessee Williams play. Blanche Dubois could have easily sung:
No one knows the blues like lonely women do
No one knows the blues like lonely women, yeah
Blues that make the walls rush in
Walls that tell you where you've been
And you've been to the hollow
Lonely women yeah
Let me die early morning
Whoa bitter tears, whoa bitter tears
Uptight downpour
“Eli’s Comin’” is emblematic of the era, a fun and catchy late 60s tune that hit #10 on the Billboard charts-- but when covered by Three Dog Night. The following track, “Timer,” holds the mantle as my favorite song. Not favorite song on the album or favorite song by Nyro, but favorite overall song of all the songs by all the people, and it’s a turning point for the album-- and it would be for me, as well.
I didn’t know when I discovered the album that “Timer” was written about a woman. I didn’t know that the thirteen tracks were thirteen confessions for Nyro, and I certainly didn’t know I would have “thirteen confessions” of my own. As I struggled with coming to terms with my own sexuality and the implications of it, I simultaneously fell in love with “Timer.”
Holdin' to my cradle at the start
But now my hand is open
And now my hand is ready
For my heart
So let the wind blow Timer
I like her song
And if the song goes minor
I won't mind
And Timer knows the lady's gonna love again
Time says the lady rambles never more
If you love me true
I'll spend my life with you
And Timer
You're a jigsaw Timer
God is a jigsaw
Soulin' with
Soulin' with Timer
The exhilarating time signature changes gave me the feeling of a roller coaster rising and dropping, as my heart was doing the same. I had an unrequited crush on my best friend, an ethereal California blonde prone to wearing 50s housewife dresses and possessing a preoccupation with the unusual. She made everything interesting and when I was around her, I felt like there was so much to discover about art and life. So maybe another of Nyro’s confessions, “Emmie,” hit me a little hard:
Touch me, oh wake me, Emily
You ornament the Earth for me
Emily, you're the natural snow,
The unstudied sea, you're a cameo
And I swear you were born a weavers lover,
Born for the loom's desire
…
You're my friend and I loved you,
Emily, Emily, Emily, Emily
She got the way to move me, Emmie.
She got the way to move me, yeah
“Timer” and “Emmie” provided the soundtrack of my longing.
The photo on the back of the Eli album features Nyro kissing the forehead of a woman; whether that’s someone she’s in love with or not is up to interpretation. The album does explore romantic love, particularly with the scintillating and steamy “December’s Boudoir.” Again, there are exciting time signature changes, this time accompanied to lush, lustful lyrics:
Love-colored soul, love-colored soul kissing spice,
Yes, my love, I take my coffee in the morning,
And all your love,
A spoonful or so make us grow
Kisses from you I'll remember,
Kisses from you in the flames of December,
Kisses from you, true they are,
Kisses from you in the flames of December's boudoir.
Oh, mainstream marzipan sweet,
Baking out in December heat
And on “The Confession,” the last track, the final words:
I confess
Love my love thing
Love is surely gospel
It took me ten years after finding this album to confess my truth to anyone other than myself. It’s humorously ironic that I was so captivated by an album I didn’t realize was a coming out message set to incredible multi-tracked vocals and strings. Eli will hold its place in music history for its complex but accessible bangers; it will hold a place in my personal history for being a refuge when I needed it most. Love is surely gospel, indeed.