Zimbabwe may seem a world away from New York City, but there's a spirit running through them that Stella Chiweshe has no problem conjuring. Perhaps it was stone - Africa's organic architecture as well as Manhattan's manmade mountains - that served as a vital source for the famed mbira player to draw from. Her life has been a constant fusion of forms tapping into a formless impulse, and on this Friday evening New York was treated to an ancient ritual on native terms.

There is no distinction between society and the sacred for Chiweshe, because society is sacred to her. Through the "thumb piano," she has tapped into a deeply personal, albeit universal, life force that she makes no attempt to disguise. Since learning under her uncle's tutelage in the late '60s, she first overcame British colonial rules outlawing the instrument, then a chauvinistically masculine stronghold on the performance of ritual music. As Rhodesia became Zimbabwe and her siblings struggled for political independence, Chiweshe was tuning her mbira - known as a transmitter between spirit and material worlds - to the sound of sacred songs while spicing it with electric guitars and funky drumbeats. As her country battled for liberation in 1974, she released her first single, waging her own interior battles. 

Only the wars Chiweshe fights aren't force against force, but rather a confluence of opposites to show their inherent similarity. She finds melody in discord, hence her role as one of Africa's most idiosyncratic musicians. At Satalla she kept it very low-key, accompanied only by a Haitian drummer. For two hours the pair explored ritual music from both Africa and Haiti, finding a lively, and surprisingly diverse, roster of rhythms. Whether singing, playing shakers or her beloved muse (mbira), Chiweshe emitted a sort of electricity apparent only in those so tapped into song there no longer exists a line between music and life. Given her accomplishments - as both musician and healer - certainly her medicine is prescribed by a higher source.

Feeding off the crowd, which certainly fueled her fire with dancing, whistles and constant eruptions of applause (leaving no wonder why her first band was named Earthquake), the only disappointment came when she had to leave. With a crowd forming outside for the following show, Chiweshe flashed a knowing, sardonic smile as she convinced the soundman to let her perform one last song. The ploy was irresistible, and she took her time in building another musical bridge between whatever worlds and emotions were present. By the time she twirled offstage and into the dressing room, the audience was left filled and empty simultaneously, and by that mark Chiweshe once again completed her ritual.

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