Celloboxing and the misfit mindset

Wearing a black leather jacket, black T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, Kevin Olusola stepped onstage at the Center for the Arts Tuesday night for the latest Distinguished Speakers Series presentation. The Pentatonix beatboxer/classical fusion artist/creativity expert grabbed an electronic cello that looked like it needed more parts and immediately began playing his version of the widely recognized Bach’s "Cello Suite No. 1."

“Y’all can hear that?” he asked the audience in the Mainstage Theatre after producing a few sample “kicks” and “high hat” simple drum sounds with his mouth into the high-quality microphone for a quick sound test.

And with that, Olusola launched into a version of the classical standard unlikely heard before by most of the audience. It was the evening’s first example of cello beatboxing — fusion music combining cello with the beatbox vocal percussion that mimicks drum sounds. Olusola used his mouth, lips, tongue, throat and voice to produce a hip-hop/rap feel that fuses a new energy and rhythm into the early 18th-century classical standard.

For those hoping for an effective written description of what the audience heard, don’t hold your breath. Between Olusola pulsing from his verbal syncopations and swaying with his cello bow strokes, it was a completely singular artistic show. It sounded more like a production studio than just one musician responsible for the musical fusion. This time, Olusola’s music retained a live, immediate, organic flavor, rather than a technology-driven digital product. It’s like scat singing for millennials.

With that, Olusola was off and running. He’s a key part of Pentatonix, the most successful a cappella group ever. He’s also a master creative collaborator and motivator, launching into a high-energy presentation at the edge of the stage, frequently breaking down the theater’s barriers by asking for audience participation or venturing into the aisles.

Olusola’s show had a significance beyond the musical theatrics. As UB’s 50th Annual Martin Luther King Jr. Commemoration keynote speaker, Olusola’s presentation held a deeper sense of history and significance than other DSS speakers.

“We have come together at this university to honor Dr. King’s life and legacy,” Keith A. Alford, dean of the School of Social Work, said before Olusola came onstage. “As a nation, we know that Black history is central to the American story. The University at Buffalo has a responsibility not only to preserve this history, but to make meaning of it, honestly, critically and inclusively through forums like tonight’s event.

“How would Dr. King respond to the divisions we see, to debates about belonging, opportunity and justice?” Alford asked. “We do know his principles. Dr. King challenged us to widen our moral circle, to defend the dignity of those pushed to the margins and resist — yes, resist — injustice with courage, conscience and love.”

Olusola had much more to say beyond his ad-libbed rhythmic accompaniments.

“What you have just witnessed was the product of years of classical training and a wild idea that didn’t fit anywhere,” Olusola said, pacing at the front of the stage. “I call this celloboxing. It didn’t exist. No blueprint. No genre. Just an instinct that said, ‘What if?’

“Tonight, I’m going to help you build your story, and what’s going to help you is learning how to think like a misfit. This concept has completely changed my life. I have done the impossible because of this.”

Olusola recounted his tremendous commercial success. His debut solo album, “Dawn of a Misfit,” received more than 10 million steams worldwide. His video concept attracted 250 million views.

“Can I tell y’all a secret?” he asked. “I didn’t think I was good enough. Let that sink in. Can anyone else relate? I feel you. Well, if you ever felt like you didn’t fit, you didn’t feel like you were good enough, tonight is for you. Because the misfit mindset shows you that misfits are broken. They are originals. And I feel like I am looking at people who want to be originals. Take chances. Do something great. Live for something greater than themselves. If that’s the life you want to live, let me help you.

Olusola talked about innovation, finding your own voice and having the courage to fly against convention.

He spoke about his “X plus 1” equation.

“X is giving yourself permission to just start and let the process be messy,” he said. “So many times, when it comes to innovation, you start with paralysis by analysis. ‘I could do this thing, but what If I fail?’ Now you haven’t done anything because you shot yourself down before you ever gave yourself permission to start.

“The first time it may not go well,” he said. “Start anyway. That’s your X. Just start. Let the process be messy.

“Your plus 1 is making little steps. It’s not giving up. Innovation is literally steps. And little steps compounded over time make big breakthroughs.”

Olusola ended his talk addressing the “misfits in this world. In this room. To the dreamers, the innovators, to the game-changers. If you get anything from this talk, misfits aren’t broken. They are originals.”

Then he ended his with a lick of beatboxing.

Olusalo’s message seemed to hit home with many young students and musicians in the hall, including Cora Meyer, a Spencerport High School freshman who had made the trip from the Rochester suburb with her father, Steve. She sings, and Olusola’s words moved her.

“It was absolutely beautiful,” said Cora, who was wearing a Pentatonix shirt. “The way he spoke about feeling like you don’t belong, but how that difference being something you can build on and create something new really spoke to me. The way he talked about being a musician was absolutely amazing.

“My whole life I have been trying to sound like other artists, in the songs I sing, trying to vocalize like they do. And this is definitely a ‘just do it the way you would, yourself, not others.’”