THE PERVASIVE REALITY OF "STRANGE FRUIT"
by John Pietaro
The
utterly timeless "Strange Fruit" lives on as legendary poetry and
music. The piece makes perhaps the strongest argument against race hatred of
any artwork. Though it will forever be associated with Billie Holiday, the
relevance of “Strange Fruit” calls for it to be renewed, relived, over the
course of generations and, likewise, struggles. It was reconstructed for a new
jazz audience again in recent times through the hushed voice of Cassandra
Wilson, backed by a veritable all-star trio. This powerful, fascinating
adaptation breathes new life into Abel Meeropol's revolutionary classic
in a period of reinvigorated fight-back against the senseless killings of young
Black men. Wilson, here, captures the defiantly flat emotional affect heard in
Billie Holiday's recording while offering her own lament, anger and rebellion
just beneath the surface. The blues turned inside out, amplified, and threaded
through the wandering, minor mode of the songwriter's heritage as well as the
sizzling restlessness of the jazz tradition.
This piece's history is compelling. Its author recognized "Strange
Fruit" as a necessary statement then--and it remains so now. Composed in
1937 by left-wing New York City school teacher, poet and songwriter Meeropol,
it was a visceral call to action in a time when people of conscience fought for
anti-lynching legislation. He brought the piece to progressive friends at Cafe
Society, intent on hearing it performed at least once by renowned singer
Holiday. Another frequent performer at Cafe Society, Josh White, sang it
too but when Holiday examined the stirring poetry of the lyric, she
readily claimed it. It is a serious challenge for a vocalist to take it on--the
message is so strong, that it can close off the throat like a bitter pill. But
it also remains a challenge to confront simply in light of Holiday's immortal
1939 recording. Nina Simone revisited the piece in the 1960s and singers as
diverse as Lou Rawls, Carmen McRae, Diana Ross, Robert Wyatt and Sting have
been drawn to it.
Cassandra Wilson has a unique talent to remake established songs, melding
herself into the piece's very fiber. She's gone from the music of Son House to
the Monkees in the confines of a single album, so the challenge is one she is
heartily up for. No cliche "girl singer", musicians recognize Wilson
as another musician, like a horn out front. It’s been the case since she first
came to prominence with New Air. In this recording, her interplay with the
master musicians of the ensemble named for Harriet Tubman (a serious
revolutionary if ever there was one) cannot be overlooked. As she emotes,
Brandon Ross (amplified 6-string banjo), Melvin Gibbs (electric bass), JT Lewis
(drums) drop in and out of her sphere, crafting not only a backdrop but a
dioramic plane about her.
The band's sparse but quietly jarring arrangement speaks of equal parts
reflection and conflict. And what is the time signature being laid out in
rolling accents by Gibbs and Lewis? I thought I had it at 9/8 but the perceived
downbeat moved me into another count all to easily. The pulse, just out of
grasp, brings the listener to a subtle anxiety reflective of the haunting
discomfort Holiday painted audiences with in a darkened Cafe Society so long
ago.
IN ITS TIME, "Strange Fruit" left an indelible mark on a
splintered society. The divide was racial, to be sure, and far too many felt
this anguish. Jim Crow was a devastating "justification" for
institutional racism, for crimes against humanity. But the societal division
was also harshly drawn along class lines as the Great Depression ravaged entire
cities, whole peoples. And as radicals, indeed revolutionaries, fought against
these grave injustices, the political right-wing created a Red Scare to counter
the uprisings. The Red Scare of the '30s was recast in the post-war years,
culminating in the Cold War that blew in like a torrent even as the promise of
VE Day hung in the air.
Nearly two decades following "Strange Fruit"'s publication, that
renewed sense of struggle was not lost on the song's author. In yet another
decade of fear and suspicion, as he watched friends' lives being ruined by McCarthyism,
global capital and the grip of HUAC, Meeropol adopted the two young sons of
Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. The couple, facing the death penalty, were
charged by a reactionary government hell-bent on silencing dissent. By the time
of their parents' executions, the boys' had Meeropol's name and commitment to
secure them, but the pains of such a violation grasps one's soul.
The network of hate and ignorance spans the eras with an ease that is shameful. Its hold on
us is seen in the police killings of African American youth in
Ferguson, on Staten Island, in Los Angeles and through a vexing list of other
places, other crimes. "Blood on the leaves, and blood on the
root".
The fear, the suspicion, the stinging desire to seek blame in other pervades
like nothing should. This remains our own strange and bitter crop.
video: STRANGE FRUIT by Harriet Tubman and Cassandra Wilson.
Harriet Tubman is Brandon Ross (amplified 6-string banjo), Melvin Gibbs
(electric bass), JT Lewis (drums). Live recording, 2013 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEBNde0mgts
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John Pietaro is a writer, musician and cultural organizer from New
York City: www.DissidentArts.com.
--THIS PIECE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN Z MAGAZINE--
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