To get a fill of the warm, fuzzy feelings we’ve all been craving this winter season, one only needed to go so far as to attend the Sofar Sounds’ Black History Month event on February 22. Held on the third floor of The Coop in Harvard Square, the unconventional space transformed into a haven of music, poetry, and communal healing. Colorful bookshelves lined the shop’s walls, which made for a fitting backdrop for the host and performing artists, most of whom are published authors.
It felt meaningful that this Black History Month gathering unfolded on a snowy winter day. The event became more than a performance: each note, word, and beat echoed the resilience and liberation of Black communities, recalling figures like author and abolitionist Josiah Henson, whose journeys through snow and darkness toward freedom embodied endurance. Scholars such as Jacqueline L. Scott have discussed how winter was a season of resilience and quiet preparation for liberation for Black communities. In this light, the Sofar Sounds show felt suspended between past and present, a poetic space where history, artistry, and the stillness of winter converged.
Guiding the evening was rapper, educator, and Hip Hop Leadership author Paul Willis, Sofar Boston’s newest local producer, whose thoughtful curation shaped the night’s spirit of intention and artistry. Unlike typical Sofar shows where artists perform individually, this event highlighted collaboration, exploring themes of love, transformation, and healing through a shared creative language. The audience was invited into a journey intertwining poetry, beats, and music — reinforcing that all of these forms, even spoken word, belong to the living, breathing local music scene.
Act I: Poetry as Healing
Messi Amaru’Khan, a Dorchester-based creative artist, curator, and community organizer, opened the evening. Known for co-curating the Sol Inspired Open Mic Series and the Pull Up Poetry Open Mic Series, he also is the author of the poetry book Dear Sacred Divine and has recently released his debut EP Duality.
As he took the stage, the room settled and turned its attention on Amaru’Khan, who guided the audience into a reflective space, bridging shared experience and personal introspection. He recited his poem, “The Radiated Rose,” which explores the power of transformation through adversity, using the metaphor of a rose exposed to radiation as a symbol of resilience, mutation, and beauty beyond expectation. As he spoke, his voice – low, resonant and steady – seemed to anchor the space, prompting the audience to snap their fingers in affirmation, fully attuned to the energy he was creating.
His compelling words –
Life expected that rose to die once affected by radiation, but instead it found a way to thrive without the normal support system
It found a way to stand apart from the roses before it and still be loved for that for what it is
Most may not recognize it for what it truly is when they encounter it
But a rose is still a rose
– reminded everyone that even when life breaks or challenges them, there is the capacity to bloom anew. Amaru’Khan concluded with reflections on connection, healing, love, and the power of art to convey messages that might be difficult to communicate directly, offering another way to support a loved one through challenging times. His vulnerability was palpable in the delivery, each word anchored in a quiet, steady presence that invited the audience to share in the emotions.
Following Amaru’Khan’s powerful set, Yah-Yah The Wordstress embraced the stage, her presence both intimate and commanding. A Roxbury native, poet, healer, and co-founder of Pull Up Poetry, she is also the author of She Who Writes to Heal, a poetry book about crafting language that threads personal truth, love, and transformation into living art. As her sultry voice encapsulated the room, a guitar riff opened, as if carrying the audience on a gentle current, before the R&B-infused piano and drums joined. The accompanying beats – blended jazz, funk, and synth elements – created a rhythmic foundation that allowed her rich voice to resonate fully.
She spoke of love, transformation, and acceptance. Her poem, “Metamorphosis”, echoed, “Society states we only grow up once, from child to adult, from egg to butterfly and then what? / I mean this butterfly was born different / Of gold and brown tones, something you’ve never seen before / Melanin infused into the design.” These lyrics painted a tapestry of resilience and growth, a reminder that transformation often comes from embracing one’s identity. As the music faded, her words hung in the air, sending chills through the room. “It is a simple reminder / That even after the world says you are finished / You can still become something new / As many times as you choose,” she continued. By the end of the piece, the audience joined in, snapping and chanting along, creating a shared sonic heartbeat.
Through the interplay of words, music, and shared energy, these two opening performances invited the audience into a space of healing, empowerment, and recognition of both personal and collective histories. After a brief intermission, Paul Willis returned to the stage to set the tone for the following performances: “These are people who just love music,” he said. “It’s amazing to hear these sounds blended. D’Angelo used to talk about music as a form of worship – he said, ‘when you close your eyes, you open your ears.’ That’s the whole point. And tonight, you’ll see folks who truly appreciate music on that spiritual level.”
Act II: Sound as Resistance
Ikebana, the evening’s sound architect, deepened the night’s atmosphere with a textured, genre-bending set. Based in Medford, he draws from jazz, funk, soul, and cinema to build rich hip-hop soundscapes inspired by the lineage of producers like J Dilla and No I.D. His latest project 2, with a forthcoming vinyl release, highlights his intricate groove forward style. Beyond his work, he remains active in the Somerville creative scene, serving as a SOMArts-in-Residence at Arts at the Armory and participating in Somerville cypher community events, including Restoring.The Feeling and Field Notes.
The sense of being in a space where creativity fosters healing was demonstrated in the diversity of Ikebana’s sound. As his set unfolded like a musical journey, he combined soulful instrumental blends and gospel-tinged textures before evolving into hip-hop beats with intricate guitar and drum instrumentation. Known for released tracks such as “Aisho” and “Ayoyna’s Song,” Ikebana built his productions through immersive sampling and soundscapes, drawing from a range of influences that span soul, global rhythms, and contemporary R&B. He effortlessly shifted styles, from chilled hip-hop to reggae-infused transitions to Afrobeat-inspired rhythms, each movement highlighting his dexterity as a producer and performer. Harmonious, reverb-laden vocals filled the room, while each beat, riff, and synth line guided the audience’s energy, eliciting bobbing heads, sways, and subtle movement in the intimate space. Though relatively new to the music scene, his sound was strikingly original, immediately setting him apart and hinting at a luminous trajectory.
Next up was Amour, introduced as a “lyrical nomad whose artistry spans continents.” Formerly known as Pierre Amour, his evolution in name mirrors a broader artistic shift. With a passport full of stamps, Amour blends introspective, socially-conscious lyrics with eclectic jazz, creating a sonic tapestry that is both global and rooted in Black cultural expression. His work includes the Marmalade EP, and he is also the author of Field Notes, a creative guide and event series centered in the Somerville community, while serving as SOMArts Artist-in-Residence leading the Restoring.The Feeling program at Arts at the Armory.
Amour opened his set with a dedication to mothers everywhere before easing into “Swimming,” a soulful offering that felt both tender and resolute. “How did we lose our wings? / Truly I’m not convinced / So my mama I learned how to swim / Drowning on dry land while floating above the sins,” he delivered, his voice carrying both ache and admiration. The lyrics moved like a meditation on inherited strength, the quiet resilience of mothers who adapt, endure, and rise despite impossible conditions. The performance closed with the final three lines delivered as a freestyle, “so when they tell you you can’t fly, that’s just one of the many lies / and it will not suffice / So we must persist,” the song became more than a tribute – echoing its message of persistence when our wings feel clipped.
He followed with an urgent new track, “Bodybag,” written, recorded, and produced in less than 24 hours, a reflection of the constant urgency of life itself. In “Bodybag,” Amour navigates the maze of life and loss: “How many stalks have been lost in the maze? / Left at the gates is the talk of the days.” The lines evoke the countless opportunities, people, and moments that slip through our grasp as we move through life’s labyrinth. Yet even in that uncertainty, there is a spiritual grounding: “Bitter taste, let the rain be my faith / Let the faith rain like grace / Build cities, burn cages.” In a few words, Amour captures both personal transformation and collective liberation, reminding the audience that healing and revolution are intertwined.
The sense of liberation extended beyond the lyrics themselves. Behind the performers, visuals created by Amour layered the artists against scenes from several films that meditate on Black life, artistry, and liberation. Among them was Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris, alongside works like Killer of Sheep and Neptune Frost. Yet it was James Baldwin who seemed to return most often, especially whenever the artists spoke of joy, healing, or love. Baldwin appeared smiling or walking through Paris, as if summoned by the very frequency of those words. His presence surfacing in quiet affirmation, grounding the night in a lineage of Black artistry that insists tenderness, too, is a form of resistance.
During the last intermission, audiences were pleasantly surprised with selections from Ikebana’s set which featured old-school reggae blended with house, disco, and pop, flowing seamlessly into South African house rhythms and smooth R&B and hip-hop transitions. The mixing, done live, highlighted the beat maker’s skill and immersion in their craft, turning the room into a living, breathing celebration of sound. Audience members were visibly moved: a couple spontaneously danced in the audience, while others chatted or subtly swayed to the rhythms, fully engaged. This segment of the night captured the transformative power of collaboration, improvisation, and admiration for music itself. Through Ikebana and Amour’s performances, the audience was reminded that music is both a personal and communal experience – a space to feel, move, and heal.
Act III: “We Got Us, That’s Community”
To close out a powerful night, Willis opened the mic to the community – something no Sofar Sounds show had done before. What followed was spontaneous, inclusive, and beautiful. The stage became an offering. Willis started it off by sharing his own skills, setting a tone of playful camaraderie carried through the night. Encouraged by the performers who were all friends, voices rose from the audience – some performers from earlier in the night, others simply moved by the moment, stepping forward to share poetry, reflections, and their talents. New voices from the crowd included singer Jo Rivers, rapper Ju$t Jill, and poet and emcee Sol E Soul who were themselves, blurring the line between featured performer and community member. Their voices were distinct yet woven seamlessly into the evening’s shared pulse. Improvised and raw, these performances flowed with an ease that reflected friendship and collective healing.
The community members spoke of love and land grabbing, of gentrification and police brutality. Of Black love. Of rising up. Of joy amid injustice facing Indigenous and marginalized communities. The room breathed and moved together, snapping, nodding, affirming, cheering. Each voice interwoven upon the next like a living archive of testimony and hope. And through every improvised verse and shared confession, one message echoed clearly: “We got us. That’s community.”
In those final performances, holding space became an act of resistance. Listening became an act of love. Keeping the chant alive became an act of care. The evening did not end with spectacle, but with solidarity – a reminder that even in fractured times, there is power in gathering, in witnessing, in choosing to remain present with one another. And in that room, it felt undeniably true: we are stronger together than divided.