NINA REVISITED... A Tribute to Nina Simone
NINA REVISITED: A TRIBUTE TO NINA SIMONE (2015)
Some albums entertain. Some albums impress.
Nina Revisited feels like a responsibility.
This is not just a tribute album—it’s a conversation across generations. A sacred dialogue between Nina Simone’s legacy and contemporary voices trying, daring, and sometimes trembling to reinterpret it. At the center of this project stands Lauryn Hill—raw, urgent, imperfect, and deeply human—carrying the emotional weight of Nina’s spirit.
Originally curated alongside the documentary What Happened, Miss Simone?, the album pulls together a range of artists—Usher, Jazmine Sullivan, Mary J. Blige, Common—but it is Lauryn Hill who dominates the project, appearing across multiple tracks like a vessel for Nina’s fire.
This is not a polished album.
It’s a living one.
The Spirit of Nina Simone
To understand Nina Revisited, you have to understand Nina Simone—not just the singer, but the activist, the pianist, the truth-teller. Nina’s music was never just about melody—it was about resistance, identity, pain, and liberation.
And this album doesn’t try to clean that up.
It leans into it.
The Sound & Production
The production across Nina Revisited feels intentionally raw and organic. Live instrumentation dominates—pianos that creak, drums that feel human, vocals that crack under pressure.
Lauryn Hill’s performances in particular reject perfection. There are moments where her voice strains, bends, even breaks—but that’s the point. Nina Simone was never about technical flawlessness. She was about emotional truth.
This album follows that philosophy.
Track by Track Exploration
Feeling Good – Lauryn Hill
A bold opening.
"It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day..."
Where Nina’s version felt triumphant and controlled, Lauryn’s is urgent—almost desperate. The arrangement builds with tension, her voice pushing against the instrumental like it’s trying to break free.
It’s not smooth.
It’s alive.
I’ve Got Life – Lauryn Hill
Explosive.
Lauryn transforms this into something closer to a protest chant than a song. Her delivery is rhythmic, almost percussive, riding the drums with intensity.
"I’ve got my freedom!"
It doesn’t sound like celebration—it sounds like survival.
Ne Me Quitte Pas – Lauryn Hill
Fragile and aching.
This is one of the album’s most vulnerable moments. Lauryn leans into the desperation of the lyrics, her voice trembling with longing.
There’s no distance between performer and emotion here. It feels immediate, almost intrusive.
Black Is the Color of My True Love’s Hair – Lauryn Hill
Haunting minimalism.
The arrangement is stripped down, allowing Lauryn’s voice to carry the weight. There’s a ghostliness to this performance—as if she’s channeling something beyond herself.
Wild Is the Wind – Lauryn Hill
Unpredictable and free.
Lauryn’s phrasing is loose, almost improvisational. She stretches notes, bends timing, and allows the song to breathe in unexpected ways.
It mirrors the title itself—wild, untamed.
African Mailman – Lauryn Hill
A moment of grounding.
Gregory Porter’s rich baritone brings warmth and stability to the album. His delivery is controlled, respectful, and deeply rooted in jazz tradition.
Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood – Common
A reinterpretation.
Common approaches this not as a singer, but as a storyteller. His spoken-word style reframes the song, adding contemporary context and perspective.
It’s less about melody, more about message.
I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free – Nina Simone
A moment of reflection.
Simone's softens here, allowing the melody to guide her. There’s a yearning in her voice—a quiet hope beneath the weight of everything that came before.
Lauryn Hill’s Role – Vessel, Not Performer
Lauryn Hill doesn’t approach this album as a traditional artist.
She approaches it as a conduit.
Her performances are messy, raw, sometimes uncomfortable—but always honest. She doesn’t try to out-sing Nina Simone. She tries to feel Nina Simone.
And in doing so, she reveals her own struggles—her voice carrying not just Nina’s pain, but her own.
Cultural Impact & Legacy
Nina Revisited arrived at a time when conversations about race, identity, and justice were once again at the forefront.
The album didn’t dominate charts—but it resonated deeply with those who understood its purpose.
It reintroduced Nina Simone’s work to a new generation, while also reminding listeners that her messages were still painfully relevant.
Lauryn Hill’s involvement, in particular, sparked discussion—about artistry, vulnerability, and what it means to honor a legacy without sanitizing it.
Deep Dive: Sinnerman – A Spiritual and Existential Reckoning
“Sinnerman” is not just a song.
It is a chase.
It is judgment.
It is the sound of a soul realizing—too late—that there is nowhere left to run.
Originally performed by Nina Simone, the song is rooted in traditional spirituals, echoing biblical imagery of reckoning day. But in Gregory Porter's hands, it transforms into something even more volatile—less like a warning, and more like an experience unfolding in real time.
The Structure – A Cycle of Panic
The song is built on repetition, but not in a comforting way. The piano loops like a ticking clock, the drums pound like a racing heartbeat, and the vocals rise in intensity with each cycle.
This repetition isn’t musical—it’s psychological.
It mirrors panic.
The sinner runs to the rock.
The rock refuses.
Runs to the river.
The river rejects.
Runs to the Lord.
And even that feels uncertain.
It’s a loop with no resolution. A spiritual maze with no exit.
The Question: “Where You Gonna Run To?”
This is the core of the song.
It is not asked gently.
It is demanded.
Each time Porter's repeats it, the question shifts—from external accusation to internal confrontation. At first, it feels like judgment coming from outside. But as the song builds, it starts to feel like the voice inside your own head.
There is no escape because the pursuer is conscience itself.
Gregory Porter's Performance – Possession, Not Control
Porter doesn’t “perform” Sinnerman.
He submits to it.
His voice strains, cracks, accelerates. He pushes past technical boundaries into something raw and almost chaotic. There are moments where it feels like his barely holding onto the structure of the song.
That lack of control is the point.
Because this is what spiritual panic sounds like.
Not polished. Not composed.
Desperate.
Existential Layer – The Fear of Exposure
Beyond religion, “Sinnerman” operates as an existential crisis.
It asks a terrifying question:
What happens when everything you use to hide—status, wealth, identity, distraction—falls away?
Where do you go when you can no longer outrun yourself?
The rock, the river, the sea—these are not just biblical symbols. They represent systems we rely on for protection:
Institutions
Beliefs
Power structures
Even other people
And one by one, they fail.
The song strips the listener down to nothing but self-awareness.
And that is the real judgment.
The Build – From Song to Ritual
As the track progresses, it stops feeling like a recording and starts feeling like a ritual.
The repetition becomes hypnotic.
The rhythm becomes physical.
You don’t just hear it—you feel pulled into it.
This is where Porter channels Nina most powerfully—not by imitation, but by invoking that same sense of spiritual urgency.
It feels communal, like something meant to be experienced collectively, yet deeply personal at the same time.
No Resolution – Only Confrontation
What makes “Sinnerman” so powerful is that it never truly resolves.
There is no comforting conclusion.
No clear redemption.
Just the confrontation.
And that’s what makes it timeless.
Because whether you interpret it religiously or existentially, the question remains relevant:
Where do you go when you have nowhere left to run?
Final Thoughts
Nina Revisited is not perfect.
But perfection was never the goal.
Truth was.
This album is raw, emotional, and at times overwhelming—but that’s what makes it powerful. It doesn’t sit comfortably in the background. It demands attention. It demands feeling.
And most importantly—it demands respect for Nina Simone’s legacy.
Because some music isn’t meant to be covered.
It’s meant to be carried.
And here, for a moment, it is.
