Elsewhere

I first came across Jacob Collier in a video on YouTube where he performed “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar during a show in Toronto.

My first reaction was not admiration.

In fact, I remember thinking:

“Who the fuck is this guy? Such a weird guy with a deep voice trying to cover a popular song. Must be some small artist trying to make a name for himself by riding on Daniel Caesar’s success.”

Little did I know that I was talking about one of the most extraordinary musicians of our generation.

The first Jacob Collier song that truly caught my attention was “Hideaway.”

It was beautiful, but there was something strange about it. The song felt familiar, as if I had heard it somewhere before. For a while, I tried to figure out where that feeling came from.

Then I realized it wasn’t the song that felt familiar.

It was the feeling.

Listening to “Hideaway” felt like remembering something I had forgotten a long time ago. Not a melody, not a place, not a specific memory. Just a feeling that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me.

After that, I started following his work more closely. Around that time, he had just released Djesse Vol. 3, and it opened up an entirely new world of music for me.

I learned that he was a multi-instrumentalist. I learned that he approached music without the usual boundaries of genre. His songs could move effortlessly between jazz, folk, pop, classical, gospel, electronic music, and things that seemed impossible to categorize.

Everything felt fresh. Invigorating.

Not fresh in the sense that it was trendy or modern, but fresh in the sense that it made me hear music differently. His work constantly surprised me while somehow remaining deeply human.

As I learned more about him, I also started listening to him speak. Interviews, masterclasses, conversations—I could listen to him for hours.

Part of it is because he is incredibly knowledgeable. He can talk about harmony, improvisation, rhythm, creativity, and musical theory with astonishing depth. But knowledge alone is not what makes him compelling.

What makes him compelling is that he communicates ideas with genuine curiosity and wonder. He has an unusual ability to make complex ideas feel accessible, exciting, and alive. Whenever he speaks about music, it feels less like a lecture and more like an invitation to explore.

Then there is the audience choir.

Watching Jacob Collier conduct thousands of people who have never met each other and transform them into a single musical instrument is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in live performance.

People from different countries, cultures, languages, and backgrounds suddenly become part of the same experience. Through nothing more than body gestures, eye contact, and sound, he creates moments of connection that feel almost magical.

His understanding of music theory is remarkable, but what fascinates me even more is his understanding of people.

Lately, I’ve been fascinated by another side of his musicianship: his improvisations with live orchestras.

He’ll walk onto a stage and begin directing dozens of musicians toward something that exists only in his imagination. Nobody knows exactly where it’s going except him. Yet somehow, piece by piece, he builds entire musical landscapes in real time.

It’s difficult to comprehend the level of intuition, creativity, and confidence required to do something like that.

And yet, despite all of this, what I love most about Jacob Collier is not the genius.

It’s the familiarity.

There is something in his music, in the chord progressions he gravitates toward, in the way he talks about creativity, and even in his perspective on life that feels strangely recognizable to me.

Not familiar in the sense that I’ve heard it before.

Familiar in the way a forgotten memory feels familiar when it suddenly returns.

I understand that his music is not for everyone. Some people find it too complex. Some find it overwhelming. Others simply don’t connect with it.

But I’m grateful that I stumbled across that performance all those years ago.

Some artists entertain us. Some inspire us.

A rare few make us feel like they’ve managed to give shape to feelings we never quite knew how to describe.

For me, Jacob Collier is one of those artists.