Just past 8 pm, after the crowd settled down, the lights dimmed, and Rick Hartt ’70 gave a brief introduction, Fleck began to play without a word. It was a simple banjo tune, and while it demonstrated his indisputable skill, it was somewhat boring. Fleck himself seemed aware that it became dull after a while, and communicated this through a variety of nonverbal cues; the audience picked up on them and laughed along with him. His good-humored approach made the most tedious song of the evening a more tolerable and even amusing performance.

Following this introductory song, Fleck spoke his first words of the evening as he gave a brief biography of Anania Ngoliaga and John Kitime, the next performers. He then walked offstage as Kitime helped Ngoliaga find his seat and placed his instrument in his hand (Ngoliaga is blind). The pair—Ngoliaga, thumb pianist and vocalist, and Kitime, back-up vocalist and guitarist—are from Tanzania and opened with a song about their country. The duo played another song, with lyrics in their language, which was skillful but contained a very unusual and somewhat off-putting vocal style. The piece sounded Mexican, and if I had heard it on the radio, I would not have guessed it was African at all.

After the pair finished the second song, Fleck returned to the stage and performed with Ngoliaga. This piece displayed the musicians’ technical skill with a couple of fast-paced chromatic runs. While they played and sang, Kitime bobbed along and drummed softly on his guitar, clearly enjoying the music. Occasionally, he chimed in with some background vocals. This song was followed by another by the two, with Kitime still drumming in the background. The vocal style was again unusual, to the point of being amusing. The audience laughed and, as the song concluded on a very high note, broke into enthusiastic applause.

Fleck acknowledged the crowd’s approval, saying demurely, “You like?” He then broke into another solo, this one on the beautiful cello banjo. Its lower tone was very agreeable, and this song was much more upbeat than his previous solo; it was enjoyable and didn’t drag at parts like the one before.

Afterward, Fleck introduced the next act: D’Gary and Mario of Madagascar. D’Gary is a guitarist and vocalist, while Mario, his accompanist, plays a unique maraca-like instrument made by filling a tin can with glass. Although D’Gary was clearly supposed to be the lead musician, I found the tin can-playing Mario to be most impressive. He was, however, very deferential to the guitarist. This was, at parts, necessary, but at other times it was disappointing that his talent was overshadowed by the guitar.

Both songs performed by this pair had a jaunty rhythm that stimulated the crowd. During their catchy tunes, characterized by low, quick guitar-playing and African lyrics, I caught several people in the crowd tapping their feet, nodding their heads, or nearly dancing in their seats. Even old, tired-looking men in serious dress were prone to swaying and bobbing during this act. Fleck, who could be seen watching from the wing, soon returned to center stage and characterized their performance as “badass.”

Fleck proceeded to perform with the pair, opening the song with call-and-response instrumentals between Fleck and D’Gary. This was one of the most powerful pieces of the entire show; it was obvious that everyone both on stage and in the audience was intensely involved in the song. The musicians seemed to be genuinely having a fantastic time as they played: They seemed oblivious to the fact they were performing for a group in a concert hall, instead playing purely for their own entertainment. The atmosphere was electric as the song ended and the performers broke into giddy laughter. “I don’t know what was going on there!” exclaimed Fleck suddenly.

A bluegrass fiddle player in a stylish polka-dot shirt joined the group next. The four broke into another upbeat tune, with fiddle, banjo, guitar, and maraca working in faultless harmony. Then, to enthusiastic applause, all but Fleck departed.

South Africa’s Vusi Mahlasela, a guitarist and vocalist, was the next musician. Fleck presented his astounding biography to the crowd: Mahlasela, an activist against apartheid, fashioned his first guitar out of fishnet and a cooking oil canister and played at anti-apartheid rallies. While Mahlasela’s performance was certainly talented, and his lyrics about the beauty of his country and the brutality of apartheid were noteworthy, none of his guitar work was particularly interesting. The quiet, calming music and his occasional humming wouldn’t have been out of place as a modern American rock song; indeed, it was vaguely akin to the sound of Dave Matthews.

Mahlasela performed a number with Fleck before handing the stage over to Toumani Diabate, a kora master from Mali. Diabate played the most distinctly African music of the night, a seemingly infinite piece on a 21-string harp-like instrument. While the kora was beautiful, the aura of this music was very different from the earlier pieces, and I found myself almost dozing off to the soothing, trance-like music. Diabate performed another, similar piece with Fleck accompanying him; they grasped hands silently as they finished before they were joined by the other musicians for the night’s finale.

Diabate, Mahlasela, D’Gary, Mario, Ngoliaga, Kitime, Fleck, and the fiddle player took the stage for the last performance. It began with Mahlasela singing melodically with minimal instrumental backup—lengthy violin notes, scant guitar—but before long, all the instruments kicked in. This was another thrilling piece that had the audience bobbing along. In fact, it was so catchy that the audience’s standing ovation brought the group back out for an encore.