(Version by Nina Simone)
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the popular trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter cry
Strange Fruit was written by Bronx school teacher Abel Meeropol (under pseudonym Lewis Allan) in 1936. He and his wife later adopted Robert and Michael, sons of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg after their execution. The song was first popularised by Billie Holiday who sang it as the closing song of her set:
Strange Fruit – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
When she was ready to begin it, waiters stopped serving, the lights in the club were turned off, and a single pin spotlight illuminated Holiday on stage. During the musical introduction, Holiday would stand with her eyes closed, as if she were evoking a prayer.
It’s a powerful song. Thanks for sharing this.
In a previous life, I had this song in my rotation on a radio show I hosted. Lady Day was such a powerful singer, and although I’m not sure if her rendition of this song is her magnum opus, it is quite close.
As heavy as this song is and as deeply as Billie Holiday sang it…she remains one of my strongest influences as a musician…it does not even come close to he truth of the matter. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. A picture can be worth a thousand songs, as well.
Like this one.
Look in wonder, O lovers of humanity!
How can we be like this?
It is beyond understanding.
The faces!!!
The self-satisfied normality of it all.
But this is happening right now in the countries where the United States is busily involved in its economic imperialist wars. Marines pissing on corpses? Nothing new. is it race-specific? Of course not. Human cruelty knows no “race,” it just needs an excuse. That’s all war really is…an excuse to mangle. We have stepped well past these white southern petit bourgeois monsters in this photo. Now we sit in air conditioned rooms drinking lattes and Coca Cola in front of big monitors, watching others do our dirty work for us while we congratulate each other on how progressive we are.
We hire others so we won’t have to get our hands dirty, but the dirty work continues. Bet on it.
Perhaps worst of all, we construct robots to do the killing.
Blind predators without even the ounce of possible compassion that might arise in even the most hardened killer’s being, laughingly controlled from thousands of miles away by the descendants of those peckerwood lynchers pictured above.
And worst of all?
The people who sit in their snug little homes and support politicians who continue this way of life as a matter of course.
“It’s the only practical thing to do,” they say.
Riiiiight…
That is exactly what the peckerwoods were saying as they lynched blacks.
“It’s the only practical way to control them!!!”
Bet on it.
While they jerked off under cover of their pleated pants.
Sex and death. What could be sweeter?
Y’all wonder why I support Ron Paul?
Check yourselves out.
And watch this webmovie while you’re at it. You are only a couple of generations removed from lynching as a part of the normal course of events in this country.
And you dare to look down on little Lynddie England?
If you support wars of economic imperialism and American exceptionalism, go look down in the mirror instead.
At long last…have you no shame.
“The horror! The horror!!!???”
We all Mistah Kurtz now.
Bet on it.
Later…
AG
P.S. That’s right, folks.
YOU!!!
Wake the fuck up.
Nina Simone, too. Bet on it.
Have we lost the human touch?
I dunno.
Whadda you think?
AG