Laura Nyro is a reflection of the moods and colors of New York. She's done this with incredible artistry, more perhaps, than anyone since the late John Coltrane. Her voice and piano paint pictures of the lost and lonely sounds, with a delicacy and precision that, in popular music, is hers alone.

But, with each succeeding album, as she gets deeper and deeper into her tasks, her flaws become more apparent. Christmas and the beads of sweat, when taken in context with her previous works, is dominated by her shortcomings, although, as a separate entity, it's not a bad record. It's just that her previous ones are much better….

[With] her last album, New York Tendaberry, Miss Nyro has veered away from the substantial song to the more nebulous realm of the avant-garde….

It may be working. She's retained the intensity and even the musicality of her earlier...