One Listener’s Response:
The performance was honestly one of the wildest things I’ve ever experienced. It wasn’t a typical ensemble at all, instead, it was a huge group of improvising musicians performing together to accompany poet Bob Holman, whose spoken-word delivery was already so intense and full of energy that it felt like he was setting the entire room on fire. The lineup was unbelievable: two bassoonists (Sara Schoenbeck and Claire de Brunner), multiple flutists, clarinetists on everything from soprano to contra-alto, guitarist On Ka’a Davis, electronic artist Dafna Naphtali, trombonist Westbrook Johnson, cellist Rocío Sánchez, and many more. Just seeing all these instruments in one space was overwhelming.
The moment Holman started reading, the whole ensemble exploded into sound. It wasn’t “accompaniment” in the traditional sense. It felt like the musicians were reacting to every shift in the poetry, every breath, every change in pacing. The music moved like a living creature: sometimes noisy and chaotic, sometimes unexpectedly quiet and delicate. At one point the flutes were fluttering at the top of the texture while the bassoons growled underneath, and the electronics twisted everything into strange, unpredictable shapes. The call-and-response interaction between Dafna Naphtali’s electronics and the poet was also really striking. It felt as if the room itself was vibrating.
While I was watching the performance, I kept wondering whether something this huge and chaotic was even rehearsed. With so many musicians improvising together, how do they communicate? How do they know when to enter, when to hold back, or when to explode together? After the show, Dafna’s explanation answered a lot of my questions. She said that although the performance looks completely free, everyone is actually following shared scores, and the conductor gives gestures to guide the energy and direction of the piece. There are written structures, cues, and textures that serve as anchors, but within those anchors there is still a massive amount of freedom to improvise. It was a carefully designed system that allowed spontaneity to happen. Hearing this made the whole experience even more inspiring, because it showed how experimental music can hold form and freedom at the same time.
Even with so many people improvising together, nothing felt disconnected. They were constantly watching each other, responding, and adjusting. There were moments where the entire group surged together behind Holman’s voice, creating a massive, overwhelming wall of sound that felt almost physical, and then suddenly everything would dissolve into thin, fragile lines that made his words stand out even more clearly. The contrast was stunning.
This performance felt less like a concert and more like a collective ritual. The energy was raw, emotional, and honestly pretty overwhelming (in a good way). I had never seen improvisation on this scale before, and the experience changed my understanding of what experimental performance can be. It was messy, intense, and absolutely unforgettable.