By Sarah “Flake” Grosser and Richard Blute(*)
Bijou Theatre
The always cryptic, hand-written prompting signs line the front of the stage where Zorn has prepared to conduct another round of his famous Cobra – this reviewer’s personal favourite live performance of the Zorn repertoire. The musicians file into place. Zorn jumps into the audience to his conductor’s spot just in front of the stage. Some late-comers try to sit too close to Zorn but he shoos them away. And with that we may begin. The room is hushed as musicians raise hands, fingers, and tap heads while Zorn points at them. They physically write down notes in silence. In anticipation of what’s about to start, Zorn addresses the audience, translating the arm-flailing gibberish for us by simply stating: “You’re gonna love it!”
Half the fun in watching Cobra is the not knowing exactly what’s going on, but for the few of us with a little understanding, there are a couple of obvious visual cues. For instance, John Medeski is suddenly wearing a neon sweatband. This signals that he has been allowed by Zorn to “Go Guerilla” and ignore the prompts for a period of time, and so he goes rogue on the organ, independent from the ensemble.
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| Cobra |
As a series of conducted improvised pieces, what sets Cobra apart is the
staggering amount of talent onstage, and the extreme level of concentration
required to play the game. The tiniest slip up in prompt recognition from
Ches Smith, mistakenly coming in on the drums, results in a shocked John
exclaiming: “No-no-no-noooo!” The resulting punishment? No drums in the
following piece. Only strings for this round; Jay Campbell (of the JACK
quartet) on cello and Jorge Roeder on double bass!
I can’t figure out what prompted Simon Hanes to start playing his bass
sideways because there is so much to watch at one time: A beautiful
vibraphone solo from Sae Hashimoto. A trio forms between Jorge Roeder, Ches
Smith, and Brian Marsella, who play ring-a-ding jazz. This is suddenly
interspersed with more heavy cross-over, as the metal guys lock in – Matt
Hollenberg, Simon Hanes, Dave Lombardo (for all the Zorn trainspotters, Dave
is wearing a Simulacrum T-shirt!). Maybe Wendy Eisenberg on guitar too, but
I couldn't see, because my view was obstructed by William Winant, who was
mainly using balloons as a primary source of sound generation.
Everyone on stage is such a huge character and it’s fun watching what they do as pairs. They communicate via exaggerated, cartoonish facial expressions and eye contact to try to get the attention of people on the other side of the room. This makes for some really interesting combinations. And let’s talk for a moment about those dynamics. Zorn likes to go loud, Loud, LOUD. When prompted to go hard, folks are clearly hitting it as loud and as hard as they physically can, and somehow Zorn dials it up to eleven. Exacerbated, they somehow manage to go even louder and harder. Chalk it up to that exhilarating Zorn magic.
Greg Saunier: “I am usually not a fan of conducted improv, but this was outrageously satisfying. Wall to wall A-List participants. Rather intimidating, TBH.”
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| Mary Halvorson & Henry Fraser. Photo by CoraWagoner |
Tennessee Theatre
I was only able to catch a couple of songs from Canis Major, but the venue was quite packed for the popular virtuoso’s newest quartet. Henry Fraser (double bass) brings a special kind of darkness to the project. I had previously enjoyed his solo recordings on Bandcamp, and his work in various other groups (alongside Camilo Ángeles, Elias Stemeseder, Jason Nazary, etc), so I enjoyed seeing him taking direction from Ms. Halvorson, and working his signature style amongst the moods of her compositions. Mary's quirky effected runs take center stage over Tomas Fujiwara's confident drum accompaniment, with Dave Adewumi's trumpet bringing the spice on top. Fans of Mary know she never misses and Canis Major is no exception. Crescendos like rolling thunder; she has such a good ear for great melodies that are memorable but still complicated. Such a skill, and all this on top of her incredible technical guitar talent. How exciting is it to be living at the same time as Mary Halvorson?
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| The Joyful Noise Players. Photo by Ashli Linkous |
Pretentious Beer Company
Contrary to the weather forecast, the sun is beaming down on the Pretentious Beer Company's back garden where nine colorful characters occupy the outdoor stage. The music reveals itself only gradually – Kishi Bashi's effect laden violin opening the conversation, as slowly the others join in. Tall Tall Trees plucking intermittently on his banjo, Booker Stardrum peppering with bass sample stabs, shakers, and percussion, and Patrick Benjamin's expressive synth arpeggiating.
The brass section of Marta Tiesenga and Patrick Shiroishi hold back until there is space amongst the reverb and digital mish-mash. After a melodious run, a small trio forms between Kishi, Trees, and Booker. Shahzad Ismaily (bass) and Greg Saunier (drums) team up out back and things start to take a psychedelic turn. Wendy Eisenberg whammies her guitar and the saxophones have a moment to do their thing.
Greg switches to hand drumming. A couple of interested onlookers peak sneakily over the fence. In a particularly pretty moment, Wendy rips a soulful phasing solo with eyes closed and everyone lets the melody evolve with ease. The crowd sways and dances along to the reverberant beats.
It all somehow transposes into a kind of doom march, with Trees taking over on bass when Shahzad needs to run off to another show. From there, somehow a little funk even slips out.
As the band heats up, so too does the crowd who are all smiles, and with closed eyes. For the grand finale, it's the return of Shahzad. He picks up Trees's banjo, painted with butterflies and elephants, and gets right to work.
In its quietest moment only hand-drumming and a bass pulse sample from Booker. A guy apparently on the Big Ears Brown Acid says, "It's so beautiful, you can feel it. You can recognize it in the hugs."
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| Peni Candra Rini.Photo by A Ogle |
The Blackbox
I have seen Peni perform a couple of times now, and in anticipation of
“probably more of the same” I missed out on the beginning of her set. I
couldn’t have been more wrong.
Accompanied with the same crew of Dr. Andy Shaw (Percussion), Shahzad
Ismaily (Moog/Bass), and her percussionists / shadow puppeteers, this year
instead of one of the church locations, Peni had been stationed in The
Blackbox. This immediately offered a totally different vibe and context in
which to enjoy her profound talent. Beyond that, the visual accompaniment
was a more modern combination of shadow puppets and video material,
depicting scenes of traditional Indonesian dancing. Most arrestingly, Peni’s
compositions appear to have taken an equally modern turn, venturing deeper
into the realms of contemporary avant-garde with a twist of darkness. This
moodier version of the already brilliant Peni is an exciting evolution, and
offers a glimpse into her future as a versatile, unique performer and in a
class of her own. A true artist who continues to surprise, and delight.
Unsurprisingly, she receives a roaring standing ovation. In contrast to her
extremely focussed presence as a singer, when the show ends she suddenly
transforms into a hyperactive little kid, excitedly shouting: “THANK YOU BIG
EARS SOUND SYSTEEEEMMM!” – absolutely adorable.
Greg Saunier: “Her group has developed into a real band with its own sound. Just because she is perfect doesn’t mean it’s an act.”
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| Laurie Anderson. Photo by Billie Wheeler |
Bijou Theatre
It was Laurie Anderson who taught me that there could be more to music than the rage of Dead Kennedys or the melancholy of Joy Division. It was John Zorn (along with Peter Brötzmann) who taught me that punk and jazz met in an intersection that could produce amazing music. So John Zorn and Laurie Anderson performing together? I was first in line that night.
Laurie mostly played violin. Zorn would punctuate her soothing almost romantic playing with harsh skronks and wailing sax lines. It’s always a pleasure to listen to Zorn’s alto playing under any circumstances. Tonight, the music kept the listener off balance but constantly in awe of these two fine musicians. And Laurie added some spoken word pieces. One piece began “The reason I love the stars so much is that we can’t hurt them.” She then went on to list the myriad ways we humans do damage to each other and concluded with “But we’re still trying, we’re getting closer.” In another piece she stated, “America. We saw it. We tipped it over, and then we sold it… Another day in America… All my brothers, and all my long lost sisters, How do we begin again?"
There was quite a bit of sadness at the state of the world in this performance but there was also an ember of hope to be found. It was there in the beautiful music and the obviously deep friendship these two great musicians shared. It was a hope that we might someday soon rediscover our compassion and decency.
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| Patricia Brennan Septet. Photo by Ashli Linkous |
Jackson Terminal
Patricia Brennan's idea of slowing down the pace is a speedy arpeggio solo on vibes. The crowd whoops – she is so impressive, and as always a complete ray of sunshine. She conducts her septet with all four mallets in hand, (which incidentally is handy for those of us further in the back, as we could easily follow along from a distance!) The Jackson Terminal is a great open setting for Patricia's infectious latin flair. That big brass sound is perfect for a Saturday Night Boogie. It's hard not to bop along and get down. “Los Otros Yo” might be the catchiest song in her catalogue. I’d only just managed to get it out of my head since the Saalfelden Festival in 2025, but now it’s stuck back in there all over again. Not sad about it, tbh.
Patricia always brings so much spirit and energy to her performances and she is truly special. So groovy and so much fun, while also being seriously intellectual. Party on!
Greg Saunier: “Some tunes border on atonality but the catchiest-and-most-impossible-not-to-smile atonality in musical history. The entire band operating at an impossible level of musicianship. Finally got to see Marcus Gilmore in person on the drums.”
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| Laurie Anderson. Photo by Taryn Ferro |
PostModern Sound Exchange
A triple treat of violin goodness, Eyvind on a pretty standard looking instrument, Laurie and Matha on some funky-ass futuristic electric space fiddles. Laurie's doesn't even have tuning pegs. What is this sorcery? The same can be said about the magic three: Yes it's classical, but the subtle effects add a slightly modern edge. A little reverb and delay and zaps for good measure. It's entirely relaxing and pleasant considering some of the more abstract stuff we've seen this weekend.
With pedals and iPad, the trio whirl long bowed notes, weaving them into a sweet, spacey, reflective world of their own. Nuance and rich sentimentality that only string instruments can conjure. It's simultaneously melancholic and uplifting. Heavy reverb creates a huge vast atmosphere, swirling, cinematic, and epic. Sometimes it sounds like the loneliest chasms of deep space, sometimes the majesty of mighty natural landscapes here on earth. But always somewhat driven and determined. Hopeful. This might be 2026 Big Ear's answer to 2025's turntable trio of Miriam Rezaei, Maria Chàvez, and Victoria Shen.
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| Darius Jones. Photo by Ashli Linkous |
The Blackbox
I had the great pleasure of catching the Darius Jones Trio, consisting of Jones on alto sax, Chris Lightcap on bass and Gerald Cleaver on drums performing songs from their album Legend of e’Boi (The Hypervigilant Eye). It was one of the highlights of the Festival.
Gerald Cleaver is such a fine drummer, I just love watching him play. I’m pretty sure I could watch him with the sound off and still be drawn into the rhythms he’s creating. Chris Lightcap provides perfect bass accompaniment to Jones’s wonderful compositions. Jones is the star here, both in terms of his playing and his composition. His lines are simple, but elegant and he imbues every note with such deep emotion.
I was particularly struck by his final song, "No More My Lord." Darius spoke about the song before performing it, and I did a bit of research on the song. It was written by Henry Jimpson Wallace. Not much is known about him except that he wrote the song in the American South’s oppressive prison system. It was documented by the tireless ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax. The trio’s performance of the song reveals the song’s deep melancholy. But I can also hear a flicker of hope for salvation. It was probably the most moving moment of the festival for me. I wrote to Darius and asked him to comment on what the song meant to him. Here’s what he said:
“It means relief to me. Relief from all the woes of the world. The
transcendence to another world. Henry Jimpson Wallace was a captured man
that had brilliance within himself, and I feel the recording of this piece
captures it. There is something unique about the recording of this piece too
that has intrigued me for years. At about 1:40 you will hear a weird loud
almost electronic sound. That sound is a wood chip from the tree Henry is
chopping down that hits Alan's mic. In many ways I feel it is Henry's spirit
saying: remember me.”
Masada II
Bijou Theatre
Joey Baron (drums) comes out guns a-blazing and it's go time instantly for the second original Masada quartet performance of the festival. Zorn has been conjuring energy throughout the day over at the side of the stage – god knows how he does it. Somehow at seventy-two, he is still one of wildest and most dynamic sax players at the entire festival. Facing Dave Douglas (trumpet) the interplay between them is constant. Joey takes a boldly loud solo.
The old bandmates sail through classics like "Karaim" with ease. Joey is limber and rubbery as ever; brush in one hand, stick in the other, every hit he makes is a sound decision with complete confidence. But it's entirely that confidence that's required to keep up with Zorn. He conducts his bandmates with such dominance: different gestures and signals seem to magically produce the notes.
Of course Masada is one of the prime examples of his Radical Jewish Music, that influence is omnipresent. One particularly gnarly solo sounds like a snake charmer trying to charm the snake as fast as he can. It's a weird one, and the audience chuckles, enjoying its originality.
You would never guess that this original Masada configuration now only performs sporadically. They are every bit locked into each other now as they were in their heyday. Everyone is constantly smiling; they all are having fun. The crowd erupts with thunderous applause in a standing ovation after the last note, and Johnnie raises his sax triumphantly to the skies – onward, and upward!
Greg Saunier: “Hyped up Ornette quartet which is irresistible because who can resist Joey Baron, the funniest drummer of the planet.”
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