Thuthuka Sibisi’s musical language is rich, and layered. He has worked widely in opera—including with the director William Kentridge—and in many ways, one could describe “Broken Chord” as an opera. The plain and sometimes severe language of Anglican hymns (and “God Save the Queen”) is layered and contrasted with African-inspired harmonies and folk songs, further augmented by rhythms for the feet—or even for blobs of dough, kneaded rhythmically. Sometimes the clash of musical languages becomes cacophony. But when the quartet of South African performers sings alone, its multi-part harmonies are beautiful and stirring, elevated by the sweetness of Nokuthula Magubane’s soprano voice, anchored by Luvo Khunwane’s base. Toward the end of “Broken Chord,” a soprano (Madeline Apple Healey) from the Trinity choir sings a quotation from Purcell’s “Dido and Aeneas,” a lament, or perhaps an olive branch. Loss is an universal emotion.

Within this tourbillon of sound Maqoma’s body acts as a kind of medium for all the stories and emotions that swirl around him. He quakes, spins, back rippling with rhythmic cross-currents. Fast footwork becomes stomping, and then a kind of gliding. Delicate arm flutters spread across his torso until every part of him, even his lips, is moving, almost as if his body had been overtaken by an external force. Amazingly, he is able to sustain several rhythms at once through different parts of his body. More than once, his dance resembles a trance. Maqoma, who is fifty, has said that this is the final work he will perform in. It’s a pity, but dance of such intensity must take a toll on the body and the mind.