Tony Cavallario: If you saw 2015’s documentary What Happened, Miss Simone?, you might have been struck by a black-and-white clip of Nina Simone playing in New York early in her career. She’s stretching the lyrics of a ballad over some sort of celestial fugue. Guitarist Al Schackman doubles her pace as the two of them weave through the chord progression. Something telepathic is happening between them; they interlock until you can’t tell what’s her and what’s him. The bassist is quite focused on keeping time, but is overcome at one point, breaks into a huge grin. It’s a yearning, desperate song, and the relentless flurry of notes threatens to topple the whole thing over in spots. There’s tension even though it’s sweet. There’s distance in Nina’s eyes as she sings. She’s walking the line between making a sincere plea for affection and pushing all feeling away. Is she entranced or distant? Is she lost inside the song or are we losing her? Perhaps it’s just a lack of artifice, for she has no need to sell it to us. She has already transformed the song. Totally uncompromising even when it’s beauty for beauty’s sake. If you are looking for greatness, start with Nina. And if you need an entry point, start with this performance.
Video after the jump.
