From “Blewu” to Bolero: Yo-Yo Ma and Kidjo Bridge Worlds

Yo-Yo Ma’s charisma, joy, and childlike wonder never fail to delight. On this cooling summer night, August 28, at the Hollywood Bowl, I was reminded again why Ma remains such an extraordinary ambassador of music. Joined by Angélique Kidjo on vocals, Thierry Vaton on piano, and David Donatien on congas, he offered a collaboration of integrity, creativity, and joy — an evening of delight and a salve for weary minds.

It has been some time since Ma ventured into crossover projects, following his 2017 departure as artistic director of the Silkroad Ensemble. Much of his recent work has leaned toward classical repertoire, almost a return to a French melodrama of his past. Yet Ma’s gifts — his grace, warmth, and curiosity — seem better suited to the meeting of cultures than to the preservation of time capsules. His tone and technique are impeccable, of course, but what breaks down the fourth wall is his genuine sense of wonder. Unlike other virtuosos such as Yuja Wang or Lang Lang, Ma thrives on adventurousness, stepping in as cultural ambassador and bridge builder. Tonight, with Kidjo, he made clear why their partnership belongs on a world stage like the Bowl.

The evening began at 7:30 p.m. with African drummers whose proud solos set the tone: a night dedicated to Black joy, culture, and storytelling. Ma made his entrance playfully, trading eight-bar phrases with the lead drummer before retreating to his chair and introducing Kidjo. She opened with “Blewu,” her calm, majestic voice doubled by Ma’s cello. The effect was rich and inviting, like the first bite of a perfect cheesecake. Ma followed with Händel’s Sarabande in D minor. At first glance, the pairing seemed odd, but the two artists explained that these were the pieces with which they each began their performing journeys — a musical origin story shared with the audience.

Vaton and Donatien joined for “Kelele,” though here the ensemble never quite found its footing. The rhythm felt uneven, and Kidjo’s attempt to get the audience to sing along faltered. Things improved with “Agolo,” where Kidjo’s soaring lines carried the music forward. A highlight came with her haunting exploration of “Summertime,” answered by Ma’s wispy cello. Sung partly in Fon, the familiar Gershwin tune emerged as something both melancholy and newly alive.

Still, as a whole, the ensemble sometimes struggled. Compared with their album, the groove often slipped in and out. Vaton’s piano voicings clashed with Ma’s cello, and his rhythm with Donatien felt unsettled, as if they were last-minute substitutes rather than seasoned collaborators. The spirit of the music was there, but the execution lacked polish—perhaps an issue of stage placement or limited rehearsal.

Ma’s solo set provided grounding. His medley of the spiritual “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen,” the “Goin’ Home” melody from Dvořák’s Ninth Symphony, and Bach’s Sarabande from Suite in D minor was as deeply felt as ever. Having heard him perform these individually, I was struck by how fresh they remain when placed together. His pizzicato alone deserves scholarly attention—rooted in classical tradition yet gesturing toward jazz bass, it exists in a category of its own.

The second half began with the return of the drummers and additional singers. Once again Ma joined in, playfully dueling with the lead drummer. His step may not be as light as it once was, but his rhythmic replies on the cello were nimble, his presence joyous.

From there, the journey turned westward. Kidjo led “Ti Citron,” a French West Indies tune, followed by “Zelie,” with her ringing voice set against Ma’s simple detaché. But the triumph of the evening was her take on “Lonlon (Ravel’s Bolero).” Singing Ravel’s famous melody in the Mina language of Benin, and backed by a video collage of African myth and iconography, Kidjo reimagined the piece as both playful and profound. It recalled a time when classical melodies were freely reinterpreted—whether as piano duets, bar songs, or string quartets. Her version made “Bolero” feel fresh again.

Guest star Sinkane and a brass section joined for the finale: “Afrika” and “Pata Pata.” The infectious rhythms begged for dancing, but the audience, bound by Western concert etiquette, mostly stayed seated. Kidjo encouraged movement, yet many settled for tapping their feet—a reminder that unlearning certain traditions can be harder than absorbing new ones.

The Bowl performance marked the end of the ensemble’s tour. Opportunities to see them live may be rare, but their album—and a number of online videos—offer a chance to experience this remarkable collaboration. Until then, let the music fill your heart with hope and remind you of the boundless possibilities of humanity.