Texas-born singer-songwriter Laurie Styvers cut a pair of records in the early 1970s, major-label efforts that failed to catch fire and in turn effectively encapsulate her recording career. Gemini Girl: The Complete Hush Recordings, a 2CD and digital set that releases on February 17 through High Moon Records, gathers both albums and adds unreleased material, in the process revealing that had the chips fallen a little differently, Styvers could’ve persevered and ended up a far more well-known figure.
Laurie Styvers could really sing, her voice pretty but substantial. She fit the early ’70s singer-songwriter mold well, perhaps a little too well. Although in Alec Palao’s extensive notes for this collection, it’s Joni Mitchell that’s described as one of Styvers’ prime influences, the songs on both of her LPs are most reminiscent of Carole King, in large part due to the piano foundation.
Both Spilt Milk (Warner Brothers/Chrysalis ’71) and The Colorado Kid (Chrysalis ’73) were cut in the UK, where Styvers had traveled with family as a teen. Prior to her solo work she was part of the psych-folk group Justine, who cut a single on the Dot label in ’69 and a pretty likeable self-titled album for Uni the following year. During this period, she returned to the US to attend college in Colorado and then moved back to the UK, reuniting with Justine.
Upon Justine’s breakup (related to a drug bust), producers Hugh Murphy and Shel Talmy focused on Styvers as a solo artist for their fledgling Hush Productions (a “joint production, publishing and management venture”), to which Justine had briefly been signed. Spilt Milk came out when Styvers was just 20 years old, and to promote its release she was booked to play the Troubadour in Los Angeles opening for Emitt Rhodes.
That performance received mixed reviews, as did Spilt Milk proper, but heard today, the album is impressive, not just for Styvers’ voice, but for her confident, unstrained compositions; she doesn’t seem concerned with sounding like someone else, and so what shines through is herself, even when she’s landing pretty close to the woman singer-songwriter norms of the period.
Additionally, the subtly Brit, occasionally baroque backing helps her to stand out from the crowd to a satisfying extent. But it’s important to stress that Spilt Milk’s production thrust is unabashedly (but not cravenly) commercial, with a lack of edge or rawness that has likely reduced Styvers’ posthumous momentum as a locus of cult adoration (she passed in February 1998).
Often the quality that spurs cult fandom limits initial success, but that’s not the issue with Styvers. It’s difficult to pinpoint aspects across Spilt Milk’s dozen songs that limited the record’s retail prospects. While not cheerful and rarely up-tempo (closer “Open the Window” is an exception), neither is she overly introspective or maudlin. General sexism surely played a part.
It’s not like her debut was a total sales stiff. Indeed, opener “Beat the Reaper” (yes, a Firesign Theater reference) is described as a “turntable hit” (meaning it was played a good bit on FM radio). “Gemini Girl” is the standout track on Spilt Milk, but the best stuff on the first disc of Gemini Girl is the half-dozen unreleased cuts where Styvers plays piano, and in particular the rousing “Let Me Comfort You.”
Note that these unreleased tracks aren’t just vocals and piano, as some feature strings and full-band backing. Cumulatively, these bonuses highlight Styvers’ abilities and sideline her limitations. And they certainly do contrast with the full-on lushness of The Colorado Kid’s decidedly King-like opener “You Are My Inspiration.” It’s not a bad track, but it’s good that the country-rockish “All American, Long Haired, Denimed, Song-Writing, Guitar Man” arrives to broaden the spectrum of the follow-up.
The Colorado Kid doubles down on commercial appeal without hesitation, as “You Be the Tide, I’ll Be the Bay” is evocative of Joni crossed with Maria Muldaur in pop mode. There are a few spots on the set where hints of Karen Carpenter are even tangible. The good news is that none of the mersh tendencies damage the record’s quality.
Styvers coming into her own can be heard throughout The Colorado Kid. This inspires a bittersweet feeling, especially when the seven unreleased cuts that round out disc two are soaked up (Styvers plays piano on most of Kid and all but two of the extras). I could’ve done without the soprano sax in “There’s Still Time (Follow Your Heart),” but its presence is far from any kind of dealbreaker. The funk-tinged rocker “Crazy Rainy Spring” more than makes up for it.
Upon consideration, Styvers’ lack of success isn’t a tragedy. I say this because her two LPs, if formative (in the way debuts and follow-ups regularly used to be), aren’t compromised by poor decisions. Yes, it’s a shame that audiences didn’t gravitate to her work when it was fresh in the stores, but on Gemini Girl, the music she did make survives, and it just might be time for that cult following to really blossom.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
