Angélique Kidjo is a glass-half-full kind of person. The Beninese singer-songwriter is currently making her way around the globe in support of her upcoming album Hope!!, and her pit stop in Ann Arbor March 26 proved that the unflinching optimism of the title is no typographic mistake. A five-time Grammy winner and lifelong activist, Kidjo’s career spans five decades, consistently defying linguistic barriers and genre categorization. Thematically, her show at Hill Auditorium was marked by a similar rejection of boundaries: Despite the pervasive despondency of the current moment, Kidjo is intent on reminding us that we’re not as different from each other as we think.
Before Kidjo even took the stage, her band (a four-piece with a drummer, a percussionist, a keyboardist and a bassist) warmed up the audience with a bare-bones yet captivating percussion solo. Her percussionist, Senfuab Stoney, offered a chameleonic performance, making use of multiple instruments and shifting between tempos and rhythms at an almost inhuman speed. It was the first of several moments throughout the performance when Kidjo allowed her band to truly shine, and the respect they shared for one another as artists was palpable as they all came together.
Then Kidjo, with great panache, appeared on stage — for the remaining two hours of the performance, it was impossible to take your eyes off of her. Her setlist, enhanced by personal anecdotes between songs, felt as if she was guiding us musically through the story of her life. Before performing a salsa number, she regaled the audience with a story from her childhood: She once had bet a friend that a salsa singer coming to town would give a great performance, and whoever lost had to do the other’s homework (suffice it to say, Kidjo got off scot-free). The set was marked by an eclectic yet cohesive set of influences, often including jazz and soul with Kidjo’s impressive vocals. Kidjo’s descriptions of the impact of music on her personal life pulled the audience into her universe, making her set feel all the more intimate.
But Kidjo didn’t just limit her performance to the stage. She quipped to the audience, “If you think it’s going to be all me … you’re going to have to sing,” before commanding them to their feet and leading one of multiple call-and-response exercises throughout the show. The lights were turned on so that Kidjo could take in the faces of everyone in the crowd. The sheer togetherness of the moment was intoxicating, and almost everyone joined in the singing and dancing with enthusiasm. Kidjo, who had started a lighthearted feud with her keyboardist Etienne Stadwijk over her ability to get people to sing along, put down her microphone as proof of the connection she had forged. Stadwijk had no choice but to concede.
Even beyond her music, which was beautifully performed (Kidjo’s vocal prowess truly knows no bounds), this — the feeling of pure harmony she was able to cultivate — was the heart of the show. While dedicating a song to her mother, Kidjo mentioned her mother’s uncanny ability to focus on the good in every situation and her talent of getting through anything with a hopeful attitude. Kidjo, it seems, has adopted a similar mission through her art. Through an evening of unbridled joy, human connection and a jarring but completely refreshing sense of optimism, that’s exactly what she was able to accomplish: a glimpse into a better world, and the hope that it will one day become a reality.
Daily Arts Writer Max Janevic can be reached at janevicm@umich.edu.
