Timi Yuro “The Amazing Timi Yuro”

I can tell you the exact thrift store where I saw a Timi Yuro LP about six months ago and I’m being hard on myself because I didn’t buy it—what were my reasons? I thought I might have it; I hadn’t listened to this one yet; it was trashed to some degree; I don’t remember. You don’t see them every day, and I have no idea where I got this one. It’s a fantastic record. They could have called it The Fantastic Timi Yuro, but then I’d have to say that it’s an amazing record. Maybe “The Amazing” is a better title. The Fantastic Four. The Amazing Timi Yuro. She’s a pop and soul singer from Chicago—well, she passed away long ago, much too young. There’s a variety of popular songs here, ballads, but all of them highly emotional—some are familiar standards, and some I don’t know. She goes all out with the vocals. Bobby Scott orchestra, and it’s produced by Quincy Jones. The record is from 1964, and she was born in 1941, so she was what, early-twenties when she recorded this—I’ve got to say she sounds much older—but what does that mean? I’m sure she felt plenty old at the time, and her voice is mature, both in execution and portraying the emotional impact, working with the lyrics and the bigness of the songs.

Excellent album cover—the top half a stylized title and song list and the bottom half a great photo of Timi Yuro (yet another taken at the edge of park) her jacket collar turned up to the cold, her dark hair a little messy, and an entirely inscrutable expression on her face. Not smiling. The background is blurred out, and she’s leaning against an ancient, sculpted, iron lamppost painted metropark green. That’s the best photo you’ll ever see of that lamppost. Maybe the best photo you’ll see of Timi Yuro. The frankly odd uncredited liner notes on back read like they’re written by “AI”—did they have AI in 1964? I suppose if we are all a product of AI, just now getting around to eating its own tail, as some theories go, could be. I couldn’t read it—my head was swimming halfway through. I love all twelve of these songs, not a lukewarm Lennon-McCartney among them. (For first-time readers, I love the Beatles, but many of the jumping on the bandwagon covers of them leave me out.) The songs I know are “Maybe You’ll Be There” and “I Got it Bad (And That Ain’t Good), but I’m getting to know the rest. It’s odd how the first two songs sound so similar—it’s counterintuitive, but it works. The first, “(I’m Afraid) The Masquerade is Over”—long title, but maybe my favorite here—there’s a spoken part, talking about getting a clown disguise—which I’m always a sucker for. (Spoken parts and clowns.) “I Can Dream, Can’t I” is another favorite, but don’t make me pick. Or, perhaps, “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was.” Or “There Must Be a Way” —but I like them all!

7.25.25