" data-original-title="" title="">Roscoe Mitchell's angular sing-song narratives, blues-edged ripples and keening exclamation. For the rest, it came across less as musical improvisation than as random choices between songs, stories and observations, punctuated by saxophone vignettes and that oft-repeated spoken mantra. The Coin Coin series of albums could be described as sonic patchwork, but this performance was simply patchy.

There was no escaping the potency of work-song "Libation for Mr. Brown: Bid Em In..." which recalls the inhumanity of slave auctions. There was pause for thought too when Roberts softly sang the lullaby "All The Pretty Horses," relating how wet-nurse slaves would breast-feed their masters' infants, leaving no milk for their own children. That African Americans are still navigating the history and legacy of slavery was underlined when Robert's explained that her parents chose the name Matana as it has no connection with the slave trade.

Roberts connected easily with the audience, sharing stories of her Irish ancestry, speaking to the connection between historically oppressed peoples and their spirit of perseverance and coaxing audience participation in mantra-like gospel-folk singalongs and chants. There was humor too, but the performance was diluted by numerous, slightly rambling anecdotes that took up too much of a disappointingly short set.

In these diversions, Roberts bemoaned the state of American politics, lumped Trump and Boris Johnson together, wondered why Madonna's "Like A Virgin" could get stuck in her head, sang Stevie Nick's "Landslide" (with a lengthy appreciation of the lyrics) and promised not to sing "Danny Boy,"—to general relief—despite Robert's grandmother's voice in her head suggesting just that.

Roberts found appreciative ears when she called out the American government for continuing to sell arms to Israel and branded the Israeli operation in Gaza as genocide and ethnic cleansing. There are not enough such brave voices in the world today, with most artists seeming reluctant to use their platform to call out BS and to inspire change. "We have a responsibility to stand up for others who cannot stand up for themselves," Roberts told the audience. "No justice... " the Chicagoan offered, to which the audience replied as one "No peace"—a line that became a gentle chant.

The remarkable figure of Coincoin arose fleetingly as Roberts sang a snatch of the performance piece "Pov Piti": "I was born a child of the moon in the year of seventeen hundred and forty-two, the second daughter... qua qua qua qua qua coin coin..."—but it lacked the ferocious, unsettling intensity of Robert's performance on Coin Coin Chapter One: Gens de Coleurs Libres (Constellation, 2011).

In conclusion, Roberts led a chant of the refrain "Live life out loud. Live life, stay proud." Fifty minutes felt like short change, even for a solo set, all the more so given the fragmented, skittish nature of this performance. Roberts is a major artist, undoubtedly, but tonight there just was not enough bang for your coin coin.