
“In awe of her”: The overlooked artist Todd Rundgren thought was as good as Joni Mitchell
As someone whose musical style is characterised on the very basis that it can’t really be categorised, Todd Rundgren has some wisdom when it comes to the whims of the industry.
The business of sonics can get a somewhat unfair reputation for moving at the speed of a juggernaut train, which isn’t wrong in a lot of respects. But as a musician who prides himself in never fitting in one pigeonhole, Rundgren possesses an astute ability to discern the real truth: that all artists are linked, in one way or another.
That may trigger shouts of protestations from those whose hubris depends on the idea of being a total original, but the fact of the matter is that everybody has an inspiration from someone, despite how eclectic and world-altering they may at first seem. It’s just down to the luck of the draw that some musicians go on to be more recognisable than others.
Rundgren can probably relate to that notion more than most, traversing bands, genres, and performance art styles with ease and never seeming to want to settle. The main virtue of this journey is the people he has met along the way, and one of those, who, although she didn’t receive her flowers until far too late, was the prime example of an artist who was an unsung hero to all the rest.
But then again, that’s the only thing there really is left to say when it comes to the genius of Laura Nyro. As far as Rundgren’s own memories of her, he told The Guardian: “I met her just after Eli and the Thirteenth Confession and was in awe of her. She asked me to be her bandleader, but I was busy with my own band, the Nazz.”
Nevertheless, the pair stayed in contact, and Rundgren even helped with the production of her 1984 album Mother’s Spiritual. But despite all this, Nyro never received true recognition until after her tragic death in 1997, and even still has never been considered a female folk contemporary like Joni Mitchell. Why so?
“Her music was remarkably sophisticated and passionate, completely individual, but audiences don’t really want people who sound completely different to everybody else,” Rundgren mused, before adding, “Some artists exist to influence other artists, to go where others won’t and show them how.”
In essence, this was exactly how things played out with Nyro. She may have been the one to have influenced a litany of artists from Rundgren to Mitchell and even Alice Cooper, but the sun only shone down on her protégés because she grafted at laying the path for them to walk on first, without any of the real recognition for her labour.
And it is true, above all else, that when certain people become so famous, the wider world becomes less interested in who inspired them as opposed to those who come next. In this sense, Nyro was criminally left in the shadows. But for the artists like Rundgren who know the real lay of the land, they understand the golden status she was worth.