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Wilson\u2019s soundtrack operates like a mixtape of sonic poetry. The blues singer Son House\u2019s \u201cMotherless Children\u201d is followed by the Gladys Knight and the Pips recording of \u201cI Can See Clearly Now,\u201d which takes on a despondent tone as the dancers move forward with rocking feet that seem to be stuck in mud. At once listless and direct, they stare hard, especially as the lyrics paint a different picture: \u201cGone are the dark clouds that had me blind.\u201d For this group, for this world, the days ahead don\u2019t seem so sunshiny.<\/p>\n
Wilson takes advantage of the width of the Skirball stage and spreads his cast \u2014 Hamilton is joined by Oluwadamilare (Dare) Ayorinde, Bria Bacon, Rochelle Jamila, Annie Wang, Henry Winslow and Miles Yeung \u2014 across its landscape expanse with duets that appear like visions. The vocabulary is reshuffled throughout, building, at times, to a more heated state as dancers circle the stage with long, loping runs and arms that stroke through the air as if it were water. The song \u201cHelping,\u201d performed by Tom Smothers, adds to the sense of turbulence with its lyrics, \u201cSome kind of help is the kind of help we all can do without.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wilson, who finds ways to create grandness and scale with just seven bodies, ends his dance with the soulful \u201cTouch a Hand, Make a Friend\u201d by the Staple Singers. Its hypnotic chant, a hope for unity, turns into an order, delivered with a tinge of desperation in this recording, which has two words on repeat: \u201cTouch somebody! Touch somebody! Touch somebody!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n