Dr. Emily AronoffWhat does it take for people to feel safe enough to sing freely?
Connection doesn’t happen by accident. It’s conducted with care
Watching Jacob Collier perform, I was able to watch a phenomenon some songleaders miss: the best leaders don’t draw attention to themselves…they draw people toward each other.
From the very first moment, I could tell: this was going to be different. The way the stage was set, the way the energy built before he even walked on…it was intentional, but not theatrical. Designed for connection, not control. I came into the concert ready to listen and sing. I left recalibrated and recharged..
From the moment I entered the space, it was clear: this wasn’t an ego performance. It was a shared experience, a lovingly choreographed invitation into musical connection. The lights, the stage flow, the timing of each entrance and exit, it all felt deeply intentional. Designed. Not to impress us, but to bring us in.
And he brought us in immediately, bursting in with an energy that was huge, nurturing, and full of joy. The moment he stepped on stage, the atmosphere shifted.
Jacob Collier is a multi-Grammy-winning artist known for transforming live performance into collaborative, improvisational connection. Learn more at jacobcollier.com.
Jacob Collier is a masterful songleader
He carried a presence that was big without being chaotic or overpowering, enthusiastic without being performative. It felt like he arrived holding the whole room with open arms. For me (and I know this is true for so many others) music isn’t just about sound. It’s a spiritual experience. A way to connect to something larger than ourselves. It’s where memory, emotion, and purpose meet. This concert was an exhilarating example of how powerful that connection can be when musical leadership is rooted in generosity, clarity, and presence.
Clear is Kind
Jacob didn’t just lead with his voice. He shaped sound with the smallest movements of his body. He showed us the shapes of his lips to guide vowel sounds—wide and bright, then rounded and mellow. His gestures were so refined that I found myself wondering if he had styled his hair to move in a way that made his head nods and pulses more readable, more magnetic. His presence was that detailed. Every cue felt deliberate—not theatrical, but deeply intentional and focused on shared precision.
It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t flashy. It was clear, grounded, and generous.
And it worked.
He didn’t need to say, “Now do this.” He showed us. He invited us. And we followed—not out of obligation, but because the clarity and care in his gestures made it safe to follow. As Brené Brown says, clear is kind. I’ve never seen that truth expressed more musically than I did in those moments.
Repertoire as a Bridge
Throughout the concert, Jacob drew from our shared cultural repertoire, songs that live in the bones of many audiences (and I suspect he does research do make sure he meets the local needs of his global audiences): “Somebody to Love,” “Georgia On My Mind,” “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” “What a Wonderful World.” But he didn’t just rehash them. He invited us to do new things with familiar material.
And our brains love that. That combination of familiarity and novelty? It wakes us up. It opens the door to joy, surprise, and memory. His choices felt age- and geography-aware. Songs you know, but shaped in remarkable ways you’ve never sung them before
Choir as Community (Not Spectacle)
One of the most moving moments came when he brought a group of young choir singers on stage. But he didn’t position himself as their star. He joined them. He became a choir member. He let them shine, lifting them up without overshadowing them.
He showed the audience how to treat them: not as kids performing, but as fellow brilliant musicians (which they were). He modeled reverent attention. The way he stepped into the shared sound, rather than towering over it, felt like an embodied lesson in leadership.
A Lineage of Clarity
Watching Jacob conduct with such intentionality reminded me of something I learned at Hava Nashira from Debbie Friedman, z”l. Debbie taught us to lead with our eyes, our shoulders, our presence, not just our voice. That lesson lives in my bones.
This concert reminded me of how powerful that clarity can feel when it’s paired with warmth, humility, and precise musical scaffolding. Not demanding, not self-important, but deeply, unapologetically skilled.
This Is What It Feels Like
So often, especially in early childhood and family engagement, we worry about making things too hard. We don’t want to confuse. We don’t want to lose people. But watching Jacob reminded me: when you build the container with clarity and care, people want to be invited into complexity.
High expectations, when paired with kindness, aren’t intimidating. They’re empowering.When musical leadership feels safe, people open up.
They listen differently. They sing differently.
That’s when songleading becomes spiritual architecture.
It’s how we build connection that lasts long after the music fades.
