Corcoran Holt’s D.C. Collective: ‘From Wose to Farafina Kan’
Arena Stage Kogod Cradle
Thursday, Feb. 13, 2025

What can a reviewer say about Corcoran Holt and his D.C. Collective that isn’t better reflected by the intangibles in his midst? It is not sufficient to recount that Holt, one of the District’s most esteemed bassists, had assembled a crew of local heavy-hitters from across scenes and generations. Nor is it enough to simply describe them in the unassuming terms that Holt used as he introduced the ensemble on a recent Thursday night at Arena Stage. The 10-piece collective was an embodiment of the best of D.C.’s Black American Music scene, pulling from the jazz, West African, hip-hop and spoken-word communities. The stage became more than simply a meeting place for these forces. It was a space in time where mentees reappeared as elders, elders received their flowers and ancestors could receive their due.

Holt pulled together the D.C. Collective’s roster for From Wose to Farafina Kan, a two-set performance whose band and whose repertoire reflected the convergence of West African musical traditions and their extensions as they show up in D.C. As Holt acknowledged each member of the band, his recollections of their first encounters included childhood stories, memories of performances at now-disappeared venues, and nods to former music and dance teachers present in the audience.

Arena Stage’s Kogod Cradle was filled to capacity, with some audience members standing in the aisles, as we bore witness to the confluence of these seismic local forces. The love for tradition was palpable and powerful. It struck me as particularly fitting that this was happening so close to Westminster Presbyterian Church, whose longtime Friday-night jazz showcase often has a similar energy. Many members of the ensemble, and even of the audience, are fixtures there. 

But at Arena Stage, with more finely tuned acoustics and support from the DC Jazz Festival, which produced the concert, Holt and the D.C. Collective enjoyed far more command of the space than artists typically manage in the cavernous church around the corner.

Holt is an accomplished bassist in his own right. Currently in his second year as a DC JazzFest artist-in-residence, he has established himself as a fixture on the international jazz scene, thanks to regular membership in the bands of both saxophonist Kenny Garrett and drummer Lewis Nash. The D.C. native has long remained active locally, though he relocated to Arizona in 2023 to work as a professor of jazz bass at Arizona State University. Holt’s wealth of experience is evident in his confidence as a bandleader. He is the anchor that any bassist would aspire to be. In his midst, the musicians around him are clearly comfortable letting loose, and it was in those carefree and even vulnerable moments that the ensemble’s sound thrived the most on Feb. 13.

And vulnerability was on display from the very first notes. Holt introduced percussionist and vocalist Jabari Exum, then began playing as Exum guided the audience through a libation — an affirmation of strength and gratitude, a greeting to ancestors. As Exum invited the audience to greet our loved ones, he turned the microphone toward us, and our murmurs of grief and gratitude, pronouncements of names who have blessed us with their memories, became part of the sound. “Àse, àse,” Exum exhaled, and the audience echoed.

Then the rest of the band emerged, and Holt was surrounded by a cadre of local legends.

On the right side of the stage, Exum was joined by Amadou Kouyate on kora, Ageyi Keita-Edwards on djembe and Adrian Somerville on sangban and dundunba. A robust band within the larger ensemble, this West African percussion section melded seamlessly with Carroll “C.V.” Dashiell III on drum kit. Dashiell’s performance throughout the night was nothing short of spectacular: just understated enough to let every other player onstage breathe, but constantly driving the bus, his playfulness and attentive ear a visible delight to his bandmates.

The power of this rhythm section was simply relentless. On my way to the show, I was almost knocked over by the strong winds coming off the river. But that was no match for the forceful sounds coming off this stage. As they launched into their first full-band piece, an arrangement of Wayne Shorter’s “Juju,” I could feel the audience around me begin to vibrate with excitement. Tenor saxophonist Elijah Easton, trombonist Reginald Cyntje and pianist Janelle Gill reminded listeners that hard-bop has many of its roots here in D.C., and those roots remain well-established through these musicians’ faithful but rejuvenated interpretations, whether classic or contemporary. Maybe it’s something in the air around here — or maye it’s that these musicians came up in a city where Butch Warren led jam sessions for decades.

And vocalist Akua Allrich had not even come onstage yet.

Allrich’s stage presence is magnetic, second only to her voice. Her hauntingly beautiful rendition of Nina Simone’s “Four Women” was at once levitating and grounding. Musically, it was a showcase of her technical range; emotionally, it served as a reminder of the real individual trauma so often carried by Black women in a racist and misogynistic society. It is possible to engage with history in a family-friendly manner, without any sugar-coating, and the inclusion of this song fit the bill perfectly.

The moment seemed to tie back into Exum’s opening libation, and it led seamlessly into the next song, which continued to showcase Allrich’s vocals alongside Exum’s mic prowess and engaged once more with vulnerable themes of grief and hardship.

For me personally, the opening sequence was the high point of the show. But the music, and accompanying energy, did not wane for the rest of the night. Nor did the crowd, parts of whom stood for ovations for nearly every song — and which had barely thinned when the band returned after a short break to play its second set.

There is an oft-repeated cliché about how Washington exists separately from D.C.; the former is the symbolic seat of empire, and the latter does its level best to exist despite the shadow cast by the Capitol. Maybe this is an oversimplification. After all, federal decisions affect us. The same night that this performance occurred, there was a drag protest in Washington Circle against the new administration’s takeover of the Kennedy Center. Federal agencies, several of which are already removing Black History Month from their calendars, employ many of our family members, our friends and our neighbors.

What are we to do? First of all, get together — bitter winds and miserable authoritarian interlopers be damned. There was, and is, more to this music than just music, as a performance like Holt’s and the D.C. Collective’s can so soundly remind us. In these rooms, even given immense uncertainty and grief, we can always find love, community and resilience. Here is a place to be proud of.

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