My appreciation for Nina Simone began with her rendition of Mr Bojangles. Before that, I admired her, but she had never truly moved me.

That changed the moment I heard her sing this extraordinary song. Originally written by Jerry Jeff Walker in 1968, it tells the story of a travelling performer, whose life is marked by both joy and sorrow.

In Simone’s hands, the song transforms. It becomes something deeper, layered with emotional depth and rich storytelling.

Her version was recorded in 1971 for her album Here Comes the Sun. The recording is simple, almost bare, with a rawness that feels deliberate.

This simplicity allows her voice to take centre stage. It carries the weight of lived experience, drawing listeners into the story with an unmatched intensity.

Her phrasing lingers on key moments, giving space to the narrative. Mr Bojangles becomes more than a character — he is a universal symbol of resilience.

The sparse instrumentation enhances this effect. A delicate mix of piano, strings, and rhythm creates a haunting and reflective mood.

Jazz often feels like a contradiction. It reframes sorrow with an almost rebellious joy, and Simone embodies this beautifully.

Her Mr Bojangles defies its country roots, weaving her jazz and classical influences into something new. It’s haunting, timeless, and deeply personal.

The story of Mr Bojangles has always been poignant. A man who dances to ease the pain of loss carries both sadness and resilience in his movements.

But Simone adds tenderness. Her version feels full of empathy, a meditation on how even in despair, he can remain attuned to others’ struggles.

It’s a reinvention, raw and profound, that transcends genre and time.