What Happened, Miss Simone? Page #3

going to stay in show business.

I never thought about a choice.

From the beginning,

I felt there was something eating at her.

You know,

"What's eating at you, Nina?"

And, um...

gradually that got stronger.

The first time I played with Nina,

it was the summer of 1957

at a restaurant in New Hope, Pennsylvania.

She didn't look at me.

Said nothing, as though I wasn't...

I wasn't even there,

and started in on a song.

She never told me

what key she was going to be in.

She just started playing, and I knew

exactly where I was going to go with it.

It was like we had

a telepathic relationship.

Before you knew it,

we were just weaving in and out.

And then she looked up.

Al Schackman

is a terribly sensitive, creative man.

He has perfect pitch,

which means that

no matter what key I'm in,

he's able to adapt himself immediately,

'cause I do that all the time.

I'll change the key

in the middle of a tune.

Nina had a wonderful way

of taking a piece of music, and...

not interpreting it, but...

but, like, metamorphosizing it.

You know, morphing it

into her experience.

What I was interested in was

conveying an emotional message,

which means using

everything you've got inside you

sometimes to barely make a note

or if you have to strain to sing,

you sing.

So sometimes

I sound like gravel,

and sometimes

I sound like coffee and cream.

When I first saw Nina

at my club in 1959,

I was impressed.

She was different.

She mixed in folk music with jazz.

She played very fine piano.

Her voice was totally different

from anybody else.

It was a woman's voice,

but it had the depth of a baritone.

That depth and that darkness carried

the insight of what was in Nina's soul...

and it reached you very quickly.

She was an artist.

She was an original artist.

So we paid attention, and in 1960,

I put her on the Newport Jazz Festival,

and she was a hit there.

Her sound is so original.

When she first appeared...

she was one of those musicians who...

Once... You don't have to

hear them a bunch.

If you hear them once,

then the next time you hear 'em, you say,

"Oh, that's that same one

I heard last week.

Nobody sounds like that except her."

At Newport,

she was sitting on a high stool

with a tambourine,

and I was in the back.

She wasn't sure

she wanted to go through with it.

If I remember right, she was a little,

you know, "What am I doing here?"

And I said, "You're here because,

you know, you belong here."

And she said,

"Okay, Al, but you better play."

And I said,

"Don't worry, I'll play."

But then, if you watch during

her performance of "Little Liza,"

she has that little smile

from time to time.

She let go,

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