Big Ears Festival Day 3, Saturday, 3/28/2026

By Sarah “Flake” Grosser and Richard Blute(*)

Cobra
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.

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.”

 

Mary Halvorson & Henry Fraser. Photo by CoraWagoner

Mary Halvorson: Canis Major
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?

  

The Joyful Noise Players. Photo by Ashli Linkous

Joyful Noise Presents: The Joyful Noise Players
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."

 

Peni Candra Rini.Photo by A Ogle

Peni Candra Rini
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.”

 

Laurie Anderson. Photo by Billie Wheeler

John Zorn & Laurie Anderson(*)
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.

 

Patricia Brennan Septet. Photo by Ashli Linkous

Patricia Brennan Septet
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.”

 

Laurie Anderson. Photo by Taryn Ferro

Spin: Laurie Anderson with Eyvind Kang & Martha Mooke
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.

 

Darius Jones. Photo by Ashli Linkous

Darius Jones Trio(*)
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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Big Ears Festival Day 2, Friday, 3/27/2026

By Sarah “Flake” Grosser

Tomas Fujiwara: Dream Up
The Greyhound

The venue of “The Greyhound” is a former Greyhound bus terminal. Funnily enough the ambiance is reminiscent of, well, a bus station, with concrete walls all around. It’s a great spot for a show as the high ceiling allows for the acoustics of Tomas Fujiwara's drums and Ches Smith's vibes to reverberate up into the air. Dream Up features four percussionists. The vibes carry most of the melody, decorated by a plethora of rhythmic accoutrements: Kaoru Watanabe features on the Taiko drums and Tim Keiper is announced as being on “everything” – donso ngoni, kamale ngoni, calabash, temple blocks, timbale, djembe, castanets, balafon, and found objects. Also, there is a wooden flute.

The room is interspersed with viewers from every angle around the central stage. Some of us are the refugees who did not make it into the first Masada quartet performance due to the capacity limit of the Bijou Theatre where all of John Zorn's performances were held. For now, we have Keiper on a gourd drum sitting on the floor, getting a good groove going while the rest of the band bounce along. Folks nod their heads approvingly, and an occasional "Yeah!" is heard.

The final piece is a more relaxed affair. Downtempo with brushes and light taps on the vibes. A very easy way to start the day. The wooden flute solo, right at the end bringing it all home.

Tune-Yards
Mill & Mine

We duck into the Mill & Mine for a short ten minute interlude before we go queue up for Nels Cline and Julian Lage's secret show at a small venue. The simple setup of electric drums, bass, and sampler/effects allows for Merrill Garbus's characteristic and powerful voice to shine over the top. It's indie pop and relatively straightforward composition-wise. Pop does mean popular and she has a ton of fans here to prove it.

Nels Cline & Julian Lage

Nels Cline & Julian Lage Secret Show
Blue Note Lounge

 One of the unique aspects of Big Ears are the "Secret Shows" – special combinations of artists performing in small venues, usually improv, and only announced shortly before they happen. These Secret Shows are blocked out on the officially printed Big Ears schedule, so you know ahead of time when and where they will be, but the exact names of who is performing are not revealed until around 30 minutes before each show. Patrons receive a notification via the Big Ears app, or, if you are a good hobnobber, you might get word from the artists themselves or find out via – GASP – a leak! It’s cool to contemplate whether or not you want to roll the dice, and with results such as “Cline vs Lage” or “Halvorson vs Ribot,” the risk was often too good to resist. This gambling aspect of the festival is super spontaneous and adds a whole layer of fun (or even further decision-making stress) to an already packed-out weekend. Love it, love it, LOVE IT!

The soft harmonic intro of Nels and Julian is no match for the blaring sound emanating from the next door Jackson Terminal venue. Thankfully this situation is quickly rectified by someone shutting the door. Introverted and inwardly focused, Nels arpeggiates and Julian quickly follows along on that flat-2, sharp-4 tip.

Julian's fingers dance around, as if programmed by his emotive eyebrows. This is some good guitar noodlin'. Julian has a special, enigmatic energy that the greats seem to invoke whenever they play with him. He seems not to be even pressing the strings, his grip is so feather-light. Their grooves swell around each other in the most perfect and effortless manner. It's the kind of chemistry which is impossible to articulate with words, and can only be appreciated in reality when it's right in front of you.

The duo are in sync every step of the way, regardless of the change in mood, like old friends who just get each other, completely relaxed in each other's presence. Some folks listen with their eyes closed. Most, however, are transfixed on the stage and the two exquisite performers. Nobody even drops their phone; the guitar gods were smiling. After improvising, Nels announces that playing with Lage is: "The highlight and joy of my life." They then play an immaculate piece by Jim Hall, in his honour.

We ran into Nels later in the street, as he was shopping for a new red shirt. He had a look of elation, or soft bliss in his face, clearly still buzzing from the set he had shared with Julian. With great confidence he insisted that this duo will absolutely be moving forward, both in the studio and touring. And why wouldn’t they – the very thought of it makes him so happy, and we are so ready for them.

Greg Saunier: "Unannounced improv show in a tiny room at low volume. A hush of concentration comes over the audience who hang on every twist and turn. I’ve never heard such chops and such telepathy.”

Marc Ribot’s Hurry Red Telephone
Jackson Terminal

Famous for bringing the chaos, a slight technicality at the beginning doesn't stop our boi Marc. For all we know this was purely intentional. True to form, his guitar strings are springy and uncut at the tuning pegs. His sheet music crumply, like a 3D paper art-installation perched precariously on the music stand. He whips each sheet carelessly onto the ground as he finishes. Wild compositions are on fire – it's going down a treat. Marc is another of those really "cool" guitarists; those legendary/legacy artists whose playing shows no sign of wear. Jackson Terminal is at full capacity and with good reason, as sources report that Ribot's SHREK performance yesterday was also outstanding.

Marc's embracement of punky drums and rebellious energy is always welcome in a genre which oftentimes gets caught up in stiff pretentiousness. Distortion and effects cap off a great rock sound. Raw attitude. The summary on his website reads: “Ribot has continued to be anything he’s wanted to be,” and I couldn’t have summed it up better.

Greg Saunier: “The Marc Ribot Quartet still provides a type of musical cruelty and self sabotage unique to Marc Ribot. I am still the willing, smiling, laughing masochist. Deerhoof would never exist without the Ribot Punk Jazz Bible.”

John Zorn Plays Harry Smith
Bijou Theatre 

The expectations from the title “John Zorn Plays Harry Smith” were that John Zorn would play a live soundtrack over Harry Smith films – this turned out to be partially true. Although a full band of Ikue Mori, Ches Smith, Jorge Roeder, and Zorn himself were introduced, the three films were accompanied in part by playback, which was kind of a shame. The second film did feature a live score from Zorn and band though, and that was cool. 

The band is completely hidden in the darkness of the side of the stage while spinning orange figures and shapes of butterflies are projected onto the screen and obscure animations like odd stained glass windows. Ikue's water sounds are fitting with the fish-like animal. The films have a psychedelic '70s aesthetic and subtle humour about them.

The green mirrored dancing lady scenes are accompanied by a piece of music from Zorn's IAO album: the voodoo magic ritual shaker and bongo sounds are hypnotic and quite repetitive. 

The second film features closeups of colored quilts, soundtracked by Johnnie on sax and finally a bassline from Jorge Roeder. It's a pretty smooth jazz combo while the red and blue material flashes by in a kind of stop motion effect. The sax takes the forefront and leads the gentle rhythm with just a hint of sass.

The third film features more cutout characters and Monty Python-esque animations. The soundtrack to this is a piece from the Filmworks series. One can’t help wishing that the band would play along with it.

 

Fred Frith. Photo by Ashli Linkous

Fred Frith’s Fremakajo
The Standard

Perhaps as a nod to his days in Zorn's Naked City, Fred is on the bass. He is joined by drums, sax, and accordion. A lively, bouncy two-step march feels slightly polka-esque with the addition of the accordion. He plays a song called "Lau for Now" in homage to the Scottish trio “Lau.” Did you know Fred could play the fiddle? I sure didn't until now!

Fred's pieces resemble ditties, most of them ending with a distinct kick on the very last note as a kind of signature. The intense red-down lighting makes for a rather dramatic setting during one of Fred's compositions that sounds like a series of one-shots. Any note could signify the end of the piece. Each kick drum sounds like punctuation; a period at the end of a short sentence. Maybe Morse Code is a more apt reference.

Like most of the music at Big Ears, Fred's is an acquired taste, but it's far from the most far-out music here. It’s a kind of Intellectual Prog, with lots of pretty harmonies between sax, accordion, and bass, as well as moody moments. Overall there is a kind of mature playfulness to Fred's compositions. Fred announces, "Time for a ballad: 'Ballad on the Run'" and the front row is awash with warm smiles.

 

John Zorn + Brian Marsella Trio

Impromptus, Ballades, Nocturnes
Bijou Theatre

The combination of Brian Marsella at the piano and John Zorn composing with exactly him in mind is truly a powerful mixture. Brian is too good to be true, and these compositions are some of Zorn's most vibrant and enjoyable of late. It's been a super long weekend for drummer Ches Smith but he seems to thrive off the endurance factor. A set of shoes and camouflage pants can be seen just offstage, as Zorn watches on.

The curtain, usually at the back of the stage, has been lowered and brought forward transforming the Bijou Theatre, making it feel much more intimate, like a club. Brian smiles as he plays a familiar driving riff, giving bass player Jorge Roeder a chance to take a beautiful solo. Given how much music all three have been playing this weekend, and still have yet to play, it's no wonder each member is glued to their sheet music.

Brian is so much fun to watch when he's riffing. He's quite animated as he rocks out, lurching into the keys, always with a giant smile on his face. Two guys in the audience bob their heads along to a completely improvised piece with no meter. How, is a mystery.

 

John Zorn, Dave Lombardo, and John Medeski

Awakening Ground
Bijou Theatre

God help you if you try to take a photo of the rare trio of Dave Lombardo (drums), John Zorn (sax), and John Medeski (organ). Before the show, ushers hold up large placards saying "NO PHOTOS" while trying their best to look menacing.

As soon as the trio takes the stage, the metal-heads in the audience throw devil-horns into the air. Somewhat atypical for a jazz show, but Zorn has a way of uniting entire spectrums of fans with his multitude of projects that cross genres. The coolest parts are when Lombardo gets to thrash it out on the metally bits. In these moments, the energy of the sax, organ, and drums fuse together in a very natural, but gnarly way. When given the floor to solo, Lombardo hammers it out loud, fast, and making full use of both kick drums. In his fit of passion, Lombardo somehow loses a drum stick which ceremoniously rolls across the stage. A single fan shrieks in delight. Zorn grins.

At the conclusion of the song, fans cheer riotously with hands in the air. Zorn walks over to Lombardo to shake his hand, clearly impressed, as confirmed by his raised eyebrows. Maybe it seems like a novelty combination on paper, but this band is more than some festival jam session. The amalgamation of talent fits into a neat trifecta of skill, where no one legend outshines the others.

One piece is just the drone of the organ but with patterings of drum fills and the odd sax squawk. Very austere and a bold choice for so late in the night. It’s past our collective bedtime and some of us in the crowd are getting a little drowsy, but thankfully the band doesn’t leave it at that. A final blast of trademark Zorn-horn seals the deal for the night, which is met with an obvious standing ovation, and bringing Day 2 to a thunderous conclusion.

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Big Ears Festival Day 1, Thursday, 3/26/2026

By Sarah “Flake” Grosser

With canceled visas, flight delays, and legendarily long airport security queues due to understaffing, it’s a miracle that everyone made it to Big Ears this year. Fans began speculating whether this would be the last time notorious plane-hater and headliner John Zorn would ever set foot on a plane again in his life. Instead, the seventy-two year old opted to skip the chaos entirely, asking guitarist Matt Hollenberg to drive him from New York City to Knoxville instead. Matt later played in Saturday’s Cobra, alongside drum icon Dave Lombardo (Slayer), and many others.

Once again in 2026, the streets of downtown Gay Street were abundant with avant-garde superstars left and right. One could not go fifty meters without running into the likes of Nels Cline buying a new red shirt for “Lovers,” Laurie Anderson on her way to the Lou Reed Guitar Drones, or David Byrne on his famous fold-up bicycle that he apparently takes everywhere.

The staff at local restaurants also get into the spirit sporting band-shirts, while buskers line the main drag – some are more talented than others. No shade to the melodica chick, the steel drum guy, or the speedy drummer practising his blast beats, but the dude channeling Prince kinda owned it this year. Plus there was a cosplay convention in town, so add a few furries and a guy dressed as Gumby to the mix. 

A recurring theme at Big Ears is that of FOMO, and this year was no exception. For every band you see there’s ten you miss out on. Beyond that, there are movies, artist talks, art exhibits, record/merch fairs, and that’s all before breakfast! Meals are foregone in favour of pop-up shows, some of which end up being the best sets of the weekend. At least when festival goers do have a free moment, downtown Knoxville offers plenty of tasty food options and fine microbreweries to refuel and plan for the next show.

This year, I was joined frequently by my favourite festival buddy, drummer and fellow jazz-enthusiast Greg Saunier, whose taste in music is remarkably similar to mine. For many of the shows we enjoyed together, he has written some additional summaries that I have included in this article, starting from Day 2.

Brian Marsella and Sae Hashimoto. Photo by cstewart

Brian Marsella and Sae Hashimoto
Regas Square

Brian and Sae open their set with "The Brilliant Questions That Children Ask," as the sun gently glows through the back windows at the small Regas Square venue. All the seats are filled and a sprinkling of extras stand in the back. The combination of vibraphone and piano makes for an intimate, intricate introduction to the festival, for those with a palette for flittering, flickering soft melodious pieces.The waltzing time signature is relaxing.

Sae announces that Big Ears is one of their favourite places to play and they are both so happy to be there. Brian prepares the piano and they launch into their new album's title track "Tunnel Vision." It's a lot more percussive in reality than on the recording. The two are artistically a great match, as they can keep up with each other as they speed through so many notes. The vibraphone sounds very warm, almost like a marimba. The wind is picking up outside and the queue signage is wobbling around, like it's enjoying the performance.

Just one year ago at Big Ears, Nels Cline announced onstage that Brian was not joining them as he had just become a father. Today, said child and their extended family were in the venue to witness the debut performance of this album that was recorded while Sae was pregnant. Life is sweet.

Brian is on fire, and after a particularly complicated run across the piano keys, a guy behind me lets out an exasperated sigh, "Phew." He is impressed. So are the rest of us.

Deerhoof. Phto by Taryn Ferro

Deerhoof
Mill & Mine

The Mill & Mine is chock-a-block and the crowd is bouncin'. Proper Deerhoof fans can be spotted in masks, as the band requests that everyone mask at indoor shows to help prevent the spread of Covid. The beats are infectious. Someone yells out to bass player/singer Satomi Matsuzaki that they love her dress. "Country Style!" she replies, with a lil' hoedown that flicks the fringing around. At the risk of sounding cliché, it's impressive that a band that's been together for so long remains so undeniably fresh and tight. Drummer Greg Saunier has the audience in the palm of his hand with a super pianissimo drum solo song introduction. It's the perfect segue into a more downtempo piece after their cover of Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue." The crowd and band are one as the music plays and the audience sways. Yes, they get the party started. But tender moments are likewise appreciated. They don't miss, and bring something for everyone. Infinitely likeable, and just really good music.

Satomi dedicates their bunny song “Gore in Rut” to Easter and hops up and down making bunny ears with her hands. The aging Big Ears crowd doesn't exactly pogo along, but they make an effort. A young lad in the audience is using his hands to conduct along to one of the sassier time signature songs, "Scarcity Is Manufactured." Their appeal transcends generations; sure, the older fans don’t have the knees for moshing anymore, but there are plenty of younger fans who are hip to the Hoof.

Ches Smith's Clone Row. Photo by A Ogle.

Ches Smith's Clone Row
The Standard

Meanwhile, over at The Standard, Liberty Ellman and Mary Halvorson are battling it out on dueling guitars, as Ches Smith leads the way on drums and vibraphone. I only caught the last moments of this set but the mellow vibe seemed to be a hit as the medium-sized venue was quite populated, even up in the VIP balcony area.

I'm not sure how Ches and bass player Nick Dunston are communicating those alien rhythms to each other but apparently it's a prerequisite that both mouths hang open to receive and transmit signals. Whatever it is, it's working.

Super pianissimo is the flavor of the drummers' day as Ches's solo also featured some hand-pattered feathery ghost notes. Things pick up towards the tail end of the set with Mary psycho-noodlin' to some futuristic grooves with fun time signatures that get people dancing! Everyone goes, "Woooo!"

Mary Lattimore & Julianna Barwick
First Presbyterian Sanctuary

What better setting for a harp than a nice big church? Paired with an angelic voice, and choral samples on pads, the real-life version of the duo's album Tragic Magic resonates better and more tingly than their perfect studio recordings. The easy compositions are simple lullabies executed with grace, poise, and delicacy. It's such a shame when anyone sneezes from the famous Knoxville pollen, or drops their phone on the wooden church floor. When everything is finally silent, the magic is revealed. It's also a good thing that the wristband scanning machines beep in tune with the music, so that it was only slightly disruptive. Thankfully, Julianna is able to drown it out with some angelic layered vocal effects.

As a female, I can say that this music is relentlessly girly in the best, most empowering way – divine feminine positivity. I swear if one more person drops their phone I will stab them…

Mary explains how Tragic Magic was recorded on historic instruments normally kept behind glass at a Paris museum. The song title "Waking Up the Sleeping Princess" was taken from a comment about how these instruments are princesses and by playing them, Mary is waking them up from a long slumber. I am usually wary of loop pedals, but Mary knows what she is doing and the harp just works brilliantly through it.

Ryan Clackner (above) & Tyshawn Sorey (below, right). Photo by Taryn Ferro

Ryan Clackner & Tyshawn Sorey
The Standard

 What a unique sound! This new duo stews slow-cooked doom jazz, simmered for hours in a crockpot. Good shit takes time, and for the glacial crescendos this focussed pair have no fear in dragging it out. Patience is a requirement. In fact, I overheard the guy behind me tell his partner, "Just give it a minute…"

These two are so into the realm they've created at the intersection between drone metal and free jazz; Ryan behind his Wayfarer shades, Tyshawn squinting in permanent stankface throughout. This is all about feeling. The Standard is not completely full, maybe because this one is pretty obscure, but most likely because this set clashes with Pat Metheny. The basic jazz guitar fan would have headed to see Pat, but for the dedicated avant-garde supporters here, they are rewarded with a different kind of passion – deep, original, and pretty darn cool.

 Chávez / Ismaily / Saunier. Photo by Jess Maples

Chávez / Ismaily / Saunier
The Standard

To be fair, the size of the crowd forming a line to get in would probably surprise its three band members most of all. Although there's no queue outside the venue, the inside has a determined snake from the door curtain and around the foyer. Pretty far out for an improv trio comprised only of drums (Greg Saunier), Moog/bass (Shahzad Ismaily), and some super abstract turntables (Maria Chávez). Perhaps it's the novelty, as this trio has only performed a handful of times.

The event staff informs me and other media attendees that we can only take photos during the first three songs. She obviously doesn't know that there will only be one "song" tonight.

The curtain is drawn open and the snake slides on in. It's abnormally packed and a typically quiet affair for Big Ears alumnus Shahzad Ismaily who gently "oohs" into the mic over crackling record static – it's like listening to a rotating earth. Meanwhile, Greg is contorting and spasming, performing wild eccentric movements over the kit, but with super soft results. The hi-hat bounces but no sound is emitted. Maria nonchalantly flings a record onto the floor as Shahzad dials in the lightest whoof of a resonant bass frequency. One patron leaves in total disgust, smashing his can in the trash as he departs. The rest of the audience remain transfixed and silent. A humble groove evolves but soon makes way for swooshes of melody. It's surprisingly earnest and heartfelt. Maria adds some more of her signature crackles, this time like radio static. And then all of a sudden, flutes!

I love that this festival dares to showcase art of this persuasion. It's refreshing to see these artists entrusted with the space to be extremely avant-garde. What's more is the audience who are in for a penny, in for a pound. What a special thing it is for the programmers, the artists, and the audience to all come together and say, "I trust you."

It's getting late and after an absurdly loud, but very thorough Chakra cleansing of Shahzad's Moog, most of us will be primed and ready to warble off to bed to catch what brief sleep is available before tomorrow's events start.

Overheard at the end, "Well, that was bizarre.

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Around, about and present … Three archival releases point to the continuing relevance of Derek Bailey’s work …

By Stuart Broomer

Right around the 20th anniversary of Derek Bailey’s passing on December 25, 2005, three recordings appeared (or in one case reappeared) that share some kinship with Limescale (Inctus, available as download), that brilliant late career recording that must be regarded as among Bailey’s most significant works (it received special attention in Ben Watson’s Derek Bailey and the Story of Free Improvisation [Verso, London 2004], p.370-373). The band was a quintet consisting of Bailey on guitar, Tony Bevan on bass saxophone, Alex Ward on clarinet, and the radical duo of THF Drenching (Stuart Calton), playing Dictaphones, and Sonic Pleasure (Marie-Angelique Bueler), on bricks. Though Bevan and Ward were regular Bailey collaborators, the young duo with strange, assumed names and equally strange instruments emphasized an expansive radicalism in Bailey’s late music, including Domestic Jungle (scatterArchive), his home recordings with late-night London underground radio. Limescale is work of collective genius, a language of myriad scrapes, whirrs, jingles and blasts in which the simultaneous sounds of the five musicians seem to emerge collectively and almost anonymously. It’s among the highest achievements of free improvisation.

Rex Casswell, THF Drenching, Martin Klapper, Sonic Pleasure – ARGOT (scatterArchive, 2025) 

When I encountered “Drenching” and “Pleasure” on this recording, their names seemed new to me, having forgotten their presence on Limescale. My familiarity with English guitarist Rex Casswell was largely based on a couple of brilliant CDs by a trio called Bark! released on Evan Parker’s psi label. ARGOT is a brief but brilliant recording, a single track just 23 minutes long, a brevity encouraged by scatterArchive’s format of downloads only, so that music of the first rank doesn’t have to fill out an LP or CD. It documents a performance from December 4, 2005, at Klub Argot, Copenhagen, though the word “argot” might well cover the special language of the unorthodox instruments. Martin Klapper is heard playing toys, amplified objects, electronics and tapes of numerous recordings.

I was soon reminded that improvisers practiced in close listening (with an occasional and similarly skilled not listening) can produce wholly engaging, formally (and anarchically) satisfying, genuinely social music with the unlikeliest of means, with Casswell the sole quartet member playing a conventional musical instrument. As on Limescale, their instruments are, as defined on the recording’s Bandcamp page, Dictaphone (“a small handheld device for manipulating sounds recorded onto magnetic tape. see ‘tape scratching’”) and brick (“a percussion instrument made of pieces of stone struck or scraped with metal sticks”).

The resultant work has a variety of unexpected sounds and textures, from squeeze toys and buzzers to possible airport announcements, some possessing their own compound unidentifiability. The musicians are intensely engaged in collective invention, constantly interacting to create continuous phrases that shift amongst the four members, their sonic bits spontaneously aligning and reacting, creating a shimmering, shifting field of sounds that possesses both rhythmic complexity and undercurrents of meaning just beyond recognition. Even Casswell’s guitar is barely distinctive amongst the sounds. Argot is a genuinely liberating experience, consistently renewing itself, highly recommended.

Derek Bailey + Tony Bevan River Monsters (scatterArchive, 2025) 

Equally germane to the special character of Limescale is the presence of Tony Bevan, heard exclusively there playing bass saxophone, an instrument that might be the best suited of all acoustic devices to represent the primordial roars of the largest and most ferocious of dinosaurs. Bailey and Bevan played extensively together, and River Monsters , released on the 20th anniversary of Bailey’s passing, gathers their duets over an 11-year period between 1988 and 1999. It’s a mix of live performance, studio and home recordings, and is sufficiently personal to include one of Bailey’s cassette “letters”, in which his spoken reflections are accompanied by continuous guitar playing. This one, to Bevan, on the subject of saxophones and their players, includes a discussion of Charlie Parker that includes a perfectly idiomatic insertion of “Scrapple from the Apple”. The sound quality varies from session to session, but the music has a distinct and sometimes extraordinary quality, even benefitting from the interactions of loud and complex sounds in relatively small spaces. The oldest track (each track or series is identified solely by its date), is from 1988, from one of the Company concert series that Bailey curated. It’s heroic, rapid-fire, improvisation with Bevan playing tenor and the two musicians already revealing the intense listening and response skills that will characterize all their work together. The latest tracks, from October 1999, might also be the subtlest, Bevan sometimes underplaying the special sonic heft that his bass saxophone will reach elsewhere, the two musicians at times developing spectacular rhythmic interaction. Bevan is also capable of microscopic details and surprisingly subtle shifts in timbre given the scale of his instrument.

A series of three pieces (tracks 5 to 7) from January 1998, recorded by Bevan, possess a ferocity that exceeds that of Peter Brotzmann or Mats Gustafsson, the wonder being the way in which Bailey’s compounding, detailed, clanging abrasions fuse into a singular roar with Bevan’s titanic blasts, creating a stream of sound that might suggest Armageddon with empathy. A series of recordings by Toby Hrycek-Robinson at Moat Studios from July 1998 might have the best technical balance of these recordings, matching Bailey’s metallic bursts and abstracted clangs to Bevan’s intensely vocalic roars and runs. It’s music that seethes life, in some ways not unlike the raw spirit of Albert Ayler’s 1964 trio recordings. There are moments in the concluding track in which the two achieve a special level of coordination, their phrases somehow suggesting chaos, but doing it so happily that it simultaneously invokes the reckless joy that could permeate early jazz, especially when it involved the roar of Adrian Rollini’s bass saxophone.

Henry Kaiser - Domo Arigato Derek Sensei (Balance Point Acoustics, 2025) 

Around the time of that 20th anniversary of Bailey’s death, a few copies of a 2006 tribute to Bailey appeared for sale on the Balance Point Acoustics website. The work remains available as a download. It’s of genuine interest, not least of all for the detailed immersion in Bailey’s principles and practices that the homage usually represents in these then fresh tributes, but it can also reach back another 30 years into Kaiser’s formative past. It begins with Kaiser speaking about Bailey and the tribute project, self- accompanying himself on guitar, a la Bailey, throughout. From there follows an extraordinary range of unpredictable, exploratory music, drifting from Asian instruments to highly developed electronica and a certain edginess worthy of Bailey himself.

“Gamera Tai Reptilicus 2005” has Kaiser playing electric guitar and joined by the startling wail of Kiku Day’s shakuhachi. “Continue On” begins as a spoken dialogue between Kaiser and Henry Kuntz, founder of the journal Bells , an early advocate for free jazz and improvised music, the spoken dialogue leading to a musical one with Kuntz playing tenor saxophone. “Improvisation 102a”, from 1978, finds Kaiser playing with trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, while “102x” has Kaiser matching long electric slides with percussionist Andrea Centazzo. “Just Be a SCUBA diver” is another dialogue, this one with Damon Smith playing bass and Kaiser ukulele as they discuss Bailey’s art. Longest and perhaps strangest of the tracks is the 13-minute “Book Review”, initially a highly developed guitar solo by Kaiser that segues into a self-accompanied spoken critique of Ben Watson’s aforementioned Bailey tome.

There’s also the brilliant, constantly shifting music of “The Metalanguage Trio” (2006), the trio of Kaiser, Larry Ochs on sopranino saxophone and Greg Goodman on voice and piano. After a couple of minutes of brilliant interactivity, it devolves into brief and comic reminiscences of Bailey: honest, direct and spontaneous. “The Night of Departure”, from 1996, is a strikingly bright acoustic guitar solo. “Tokyo Trio For Aida” (1979), is energized collective improvisation with Kaiser, bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa and tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi.

“Pre-Vou” (1996) has alto saxophonist John Oswald and Kaiser exchanging strange, wandering glissandi in instrumental voices that can fuse identities. The concluding “Kavichandran Salp'uri” (1993) is sublimely beautiful and mysterious. It has Sang-won Park singing and playing changgo, an hourglass-shaped drum with two different pitches, with Kaiser and Derek Bailey both playing subtly empathetic electric guitars, an ideal conclusion to a near optimally global homage to a man who defined his own, insistently immediate, sonic world, one in which human speech might happily coincide with spontaneously improvised music.

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Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe: Obituary for Hans Falb (1954–2025)

Hans Falb. Photo by Elvira Faltermeier.

By Philipp Schmickl
(translated by Friederike Kulcsar, read German original)

Hans Falb, who passed away on 26 December 2025, was an extremely generous person, and he strove all his life to realise his vision of a better world. Using his café restaurant, the Jazzgalerie Nickelsdorf, as his platform, he achieved this goal through music and friendship (and, of course, with the help of good food and wine). Hans, better known as Hauna, was a complex character and sometimes not so easy to get along with – whatever you did together could take unexpected twists and turns, for the most part compassionate turns; and he knew how to put things off until the timing was surprisingly good. Over the years and decades, the many club concerts and festivals Hans organised with his friends in this manner not only created and influenced numerous networks of friendships that stretched across national and geographical boundaries, but also enabled listeners to forge a close bond with music, an improvised music that mainly but not only refers to jazz; encouraging attentiveness in a laid-back environment, nurturing a form of concentration that sets in when a concert begins: a collective listening that unites musicians and audience.

First, a few numbers: the Jazzgalerie – by which I now mean Hans and his friends – organised 48 three- to four-day festivals virtually without pay: the Nickelsdorfer Avant-Jazztage in 1978, the Konfrontationen from 1980 to 2025, Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy/Homage to Sun Ra in 2012, and The New Gardens of Harlem/Homage to Joe McPhee in 2015. About 500 club concerts took place between 1976 and 2007, with occasional gigs in the following years. From the late 1970s to the 2000s, the music programme was curated by Hans in collaboration with Reinhard Stöger (aka Grölli). Then he took over, though he would accept the suggestions of his friends, sometimes wholeheartedly, sometimes reluctantly.

Soon after the two-day opening celebration of the Jazzgalerie Nickelsdorf with still rather mainstream music in November 1976, the Jazzgalerie turned more and more towards the European and Afro-American jazz avant-garde and within a short period emerged as one of the major clubs on the continent, perhaps even beyond, for what was referred to at the time as “progressive” music – all funded for the most part by revenues from the Café Restaurant Falb. [1]

In an interview I conducted with Hans in 2013 he said, “After the 1984 festival I felt a bit exhausted and thought I’ve done a lot already, that someday I would change my life too …” Inspired by Clifford Thornton, Julius Hemphill’s album Dogon A.D. and Chris Marker’s film Sans Soleil , he travelled via Lyon to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, at the end of 1984 and explored Western Africa for three or four months. His stories about these journeys kept returning again and again, about crossing borders, sometimes legally, sometimes clandestinely, sometimes punished with a day in prison, before being brought back to the same place he had started out. He also loved telling how once the village children stole his toothpaste to paint their faces white. Or when in the Rwenzori Mountains, if you saw people sleeping by the roadside with their heads pointing downhill instead of their feet (which was usual) it was a dead giveaway that you were in a schnapps-distilling region. Getting back to the quote from above about him wanting to change his life­­, Hans said, “… but I didn’t succeed”, a conclusion he came to soon after he returned home in the spring of 1985. “And the musicians are glad I didn’t.”

In the 40 years between this extended African trip and his journey to the hereafter, Hans Falb with the Jazzgalerie created a space that was permeated with music and a great love for the arts; a space that was inspired by the spirit of friendship and characterised by a cosmopolitan open-mindedness. I remember that in the Jazzgalerie music magazines such as Wire, Spex, Skug, Jazzlive,Jazz Podium, freiStil or Neue Zeitschrift für Musik lay side by side with various daily newspapers and the Falter, the Swiss WOZ, konkret, Le Monde Diplomatique, and Lettre International; there was a large atlas, which was consulted regularly, and books about whisky, wine, and hiking trails. With its club concerts and festivals the Jazzgalerie also brought “the world to our home”, as Grölli put it. This home in the Austrian periphery, the Jazzgalerie, which Hans shared with his many friends[2], was as unlikely a place as Fitzcarraldo’s dream of an opera house in the Peruvian rain forest. Perhaps this music world, “the world” Reinhard speaks of, was so enthusiastic about the Jazzgalerie, because it was run by a man who did a lot of things – here again Fitzcarraldo – “like a cow jumping over the church roof”. At the end of the film Fitz sells the colonial landowner the ship that he hauled in vain over the mountains on the isthmus and slips his captain the bundle of money he received demanding that he bring him not only a tailcoat, a red velvet chair, and “the best cigar in the world” but also the very opera orchestra that had made a guest appearance in Manaus to play on his ship. Applauded from the shore, the music drifts over the water, while Fitzcarraldo in tails stands proudly on the ship, smoking next to the orchestra ­­­­‑ like Hans, who very often was onstagelistening to “his” concerts, smoking, but never in tails.

The Konfrontationen with its combinations of tone colours and shades of language was an outstanding festival. [3] Inspired by Hans’s ideas of a better world, the Jazzgalerie and the music played and improvised there opened and shaped a space of expanded possibilities and anarchic structures directed against the dominant hierarchies. Hans conceived the festivals so that everyone felt at ease, as he put it, while they “got something complex poured into their hearts” (from the same interview). Over time the festival took on a life of its own. What we call diversity today was understood as unityfrom the very beginning: unity of arts, unity of place, and unity of people. Anti- and postcolonial thought embraced the sound of modernism ; minimalist textures from the Vienna-Berlin axis were rung in and out by church bells; and my personal highlight on festival afternoons: the sound of the schnitzel mallet and the piano tuner amid the mixture of languages. In the Jazzgalerie and at the festivals, sensibility and intellect have always inspired one another just as music inspires friendship and vice versa. In conjunction with playing and listening, eating and drinking, dancing and kissing. 

Hamid Drake and Hans Falb. Photo by Elvira Faltermeier

Usually open deep into the night, the Jazzgalerie was not only a door to the world and to different music communities, but has also always been a place of safety for friends and strangers, for the newly arrived, for us young people or those who felt a bit misunderstood by their folks. If you didn’t want to go home, you could sit with Hauna at the bar, listen to music and then sleep over in the club. Those in need of money could work, eat and drink there. It was a safe space for marginalised people in particular, which became even more apparent in 2015 when 300,000 refugees crossed the border at Nickelsdorf, and for some of the few who stayed in the village the Jazzgalerie became the place where they weren’t treated paternalistically but could work as equal human beings in the kitchen or serving guests. One of them, Ali, said on the day before Hans’s funeral, “Hauna had a warm heart.” I think that in his café restaurant in the European periphery he practised the hospitality I knew from the stories of his journeys in Western and later Central Africa.

Such places have but a small chance of economic survival, as the insolvencies and eventually the loss of the restaurant demonstrated. The first big insolvency in 2007/2008 also affected the festival. However, the end of the Konfrontationen was prevented by the dense, transcontinental network of music and friendship, and the association Impro 2000 was re-organised. This resulted in the organisational separation of restaurant and musical activities. Due to the first corona lockdowns in March 2020, and Hans reaching retirement age, the Jazzgalerie restaurant was closed but remained his living room where he met his friends and where he ate and drank. It remained his office where he made his phone calls, wrote an e-mail every now and then, and where he could listen and re-listen to the records and CDs that people sent to him. It was the place where he had put together the music programmes with his friends since 1976 and later single-handedly. In June 2025 he had to vacate his living room, as there were new tenants and plans for the restaurant. Being already very weak, he moved into the two rooms adjoining the restaurant, which up to then had served him as bedroom and archive (the festival office). He refused to move out completely. He also refused any medical aid. Despite the adverse circumstances – he believed you have to adapt to such changes, but not without complaining about the music in the yard – he always talked about his difficulties as if they were adventure stories. Hans never saw himself as a victim of the economic and socio-political changes, but always as an adventurer. No matter how much his situation deteriorated, he recognised and lived the poetry of his life. In Lyon, on November 28, 1984, just before his flight to Ouagadougou, looking at the reflections of the advertisements in the Rhône or Saône, he wrote in his travel diary: “CARDENAL comes to my mind, and if I had to bear witness to my time, I would say: it was barbaric and primitive, but poetic.”

As in Grimms’ fairy tale Hans in Luck, Hans Falb had got a lump of gold in 1976: the restaurant offered wealth and promising perspectives. But step by step he traded away this wealth with its perspectives; unlike in the fairy tale, the wealth Hans traded away turned into friendship and music – a music that in turn can never be recaptured. Hans liked to quote Eric Dolphy, who is reported to have said, “When you hear music, after it’s over, it’s gone in the air.” Hans Falb in Luck successfully traded away all material wealth. At the end of the fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm it says, “With a light heart and free from every burden he kept going until he was at home with his mother.”

Photo by Elvira Faltermeier

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[1] Fatty George (clarinet), Al Fats Edwards (vocals), Rudi Wilfer (piano) and Karl Prosenik (drums) played the opening concert. Initially, in the years following, performers included Abdulla Ibrahim/Dollar Brand, Alexander von Schlippenbach, Sven-Åke Johansson, Clifford Thornton, Amina Claudine Myers, the World Saxophone Quartet, larger and smaller ensembles of Roscoe Mitchell, Joseph Jarmen, Muhal Richard Abrams, Anthony Braxton and Don Moye, Peter Brötzmann, Frank Wright, Michele Rosewoman, Maria Böhmberger, Akira Sakata, Sun Ra with an eleven-piece Arkestra, Andrew Cyrille’s Maono, Max Roach, Dieter Kaufmann, Dieter Glawischnig/Neighbours, Peter Kowald, and H. C. Artmann. As Hans Falb wrote in a letter to Roscoe Mitchell (found in the Jazzgalerie archive), a four-day portrait of the AACM composers Roscoe Mitchell, Anthony Braxton, Muhal Richard Abramas, and Leo Smith was planned for the Konfrontationen 1984. But in the end, only Mitchell and Braxton came.

[2] These friends also included many Austrian musicians, for whom the Jazzgalerie provided impetus and let them think bigger and determine their own musics and careers, for instance Christian Fennesz and Franz Hautzinger, who both come from the Nickelsdorf region, Susanna Gartmayer, Christof Kurzmann, Didi Kern, and many more.

[3] For an attempt at describing the Konfrontationen see the text On Ghosts and Colours : https://thefuckle.wordpress.com/2019/07/12/uber-geister-und-farben-vierzig-jahre-konfrontationen/ 

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Philipp Schmickl is a scholar working in the fields of improvisation and festival studies. He received his PhD from the Institute for Jazz and Popular Music Studies at the University of Music and Performing Arts Graz with a dissertation on the Konfrontationen festival organized by the Jazzgalerie Nickelsdorf, Austria. He is founder and editor of the oral music histories book series THEORAL (currently dormant).

 

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Alan Niblock, John Butcher, Mark Sanders - Tectonic Plates (577 Records, 2025)

By Stef Gijssels

How often can you listen to the same music of free improvisation before you can almost anticipate what's coming? The answer is: a lot! And maybe that's the great fun of improvised music: its total unpredictability and inventiveness. We are in the company of three masters: Alan Niblock as the 'leader' on double bass, John Butcher on saxophones and Mark Sanders on drums and percussion.

It is clear from the title that the trio will offer some seismic music, and actually all five tracks make references to tectonic plates, the geological gigantic slabs of stone that slowly move against each other with friction, themselves floating on a semi-fluid asthenosphere below them, and occasionally leading to earth quakes and volcanic eruptions, and basically to all the mountains we know. The image is accurate: the music is inherently slow, precise, crisp, intense and organic, gradually moving forward together until the whole piece erupts in a sonic volcano - brutal, raw, harsh, powerful - only to fall back on its defaults position of minute progress. The first and longest track is called "Mountains", a wonderfully balanced piece full of fascinating duo and trio interactions. Despite its length, the tension is maintained throughout. 

The second track, "Divergent Plate Boundaries (DPB)" refers to the opposite effect, when tectonic plates do not collide to create mountains, but rather when they move apart, creating gaps filled by magma that cools to form new crust. It starts with faint whistling sounds from the sax, minuscule sounds from bass and drums, barely audible, resulting in a strange effect of almost natural ambient sounds, until the bowed bass starts producing some volume, encouraging the other instruments to equally raise their voice. The interaction remains cautious, prudent even, avoiding collision, gradually growing together into a more joyful interplay. 

I will not try to describe each piece: the effort is futile considering the abstract and indescribable nature of the trio's sounds, but trust me that it is great throughout, fresh and intense, creative and captivating. For readers interested in the geological foundations of this music, here are some Wikipedia links to the other titles: "Mantel Plume", "Olympus Mons" and "Faultline", and I leave it to you to make the links between the titles and the music itself. 

I have listened every night to this album, several times even, for more than a month, neglecting so much other music that is coming our way - apologies for this - but it is worth it. That's what 'captivating' means, literally, to have become imprisoned by totally free music. What a paradox!

The album was recorded live at The Black Box, in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Listen and download from Bandcamp. 

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