Once a year, I make sure to see Jacob Collier in concert. His performances move me deeply — not just for their creativity, but for the way he brings people together. This year, I got to see him right here in Ann Arbor, my own town.
I was thrilled when I bought tickets in Row D, assuming they were the fourth row. But when I arrived at Hill Auditorium, I learned that Row D is actually the third row (not sure why?). I was already excited about that, but then I realized the first two rows were left empty on purpose. That meant we had front-row views of the magic of Jacob Collier and Chris Thile — two wildly talented, creative, improvisational artists — performing alongside the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra.
Throughout the night, Chris Thile made frequent eye contact with us — playful, knowing, in the moment. Together, the two of them had extraordinary synergy, weaving piano and mandolin together in improvisations that defied logic and overflowed with joy.
The most incredible moment came when Jacob Collier created a completely spontaneous orchestral piece in real time. He stood on the podium and addressed the musicians section by section:
“How many of you are first violins? Great — could you please play a G? You three here, play a B. You all, a C-sharp.”
Bit by bit, he built an ethereal chord — violins bowing, harp and glockenspiel sparkling underneath. Then he turned to the cellos and basses, layering in rhythm. With the brass, he added rich, resonant harmonies. The woodwinds trilled softly, and suddenly, the entire orchestra was animated with sound.
Then Jacob said, “Now we’ll do it all together. I’ll conduct from the piano — I have a part too, but I haven’t told you what it is yet.”
He began to play, and to everyone’s surprise, he came in with, “Look at the stars…” — starting to sing Coldplay’s Yellow. The orchestra swelled around him, perfectly in sync. Then Chris Thile joined in, singing a completely different song — “Every breath you take…” by The Police. Then they sang both these songs simultaneously.
Soon, Jacob had the entire audience singing along, too — “Look at the stars…” — while others layered “Every step you take…” in harmony. Voices rose from the floor, mezzanine, and balcony. Thousands of people sang together, in layers.
This is collective effervescence.
This is what happens when music becomes something larger than performance — when sound turns into connection, when art becomes shared experience.
And sitting there in the first row, singing with everyone else, I marveled that we’re capable of moments like this.
My past posts about Jacob Collier performances:
The Community is the End
Mastery and Play
Jacob Collier Concert (Part 2)
Smuggling Grace 