Big Ears 2025

Big Ears sold out once again this year, and chances are the organizers will once again not leave well enough alone, because well enough will never be good enough in Knoxville. The bar is so high; each year boasts un-repeatable brilliance, striking FOMO in the hearts of even the most seasoned show-goer. Yet each year leaves room for improvement, and each success provides room for change. Working out every kink…just seems antithetical to the very spirit of Big Ears.

For a fringe-y gathering like this, it’s always a tricky balance when you bring in big names, and last year’s event (http://www.you-phoria.com/Blog/2024/March/big-ears-2024) may have been a tipping point. Charging extra for the high-profile André 3000 performances may not have gone over as well as organizers hoped, and a marquee booking of John Paul Jones and Thurston Moore was met with mixed impressions as well when they subjected the crowd to a song-free noise set after coming onstage 40 minutes late.

This year’s lineup was significantly less star-studded than any previous iteration I’ve seen, and I doubt any Big Ears faithful were complaining. While there’s no sense of gatekeeping at this festival, there’s a definite IYKYK factor, and there was no shortage of names very familiar to anyone who’s been here before. No bonus tickets necessary; once again, the whole festival, with more venues than ever before, was available to all attendees. Well…up to a point, of course.

This year perhaps more than ever, I was thankful I’d sprung for the mid-tier “premier” ticket, which generally gets you into a venue much faster and more reliably than a general admission ticket. While I still think GA is the true best strategy (for reasons I described here: http://www.you-phoria.com/Blog/2022/March/big-ears-was-alright-if-you-like-saxophones), I’m fucking spoiled now. I’m not missing half of Nels Cline’s set to stand in line for Jeff Parker goddammit. There were at least a couple of the fest’s most buzzed-about acts I definitely wouldn’t have seen if I had a GA ticket.

On the other hand, the premier ticket is still no guarantee. Boyd’s Jig & Reel, for instance (a Scottish pub that always lands bigger names for intimate sets), is too small for separate rush lines, meaning whichever wristband you may have, get there way early or don’t get there. Unless it’s a truly obscure act, the Jig is almost not worth bothering with. Unless you go all in with the VIP ticket, I assume, but even then, capacity is capacity; they tend to start letting folks into venues 30-40 minutes before showtime, so getting in line that early is your only way to be 100% sure of getting in.

And I have no issue with that. Because almost every performance you might catch at this festival, you’re going to consider yourself extremely lucky to be there. As I’ve said before, if your first choice is too packed, there’s something just as good a few blocks away. If you show up with an open mind, disappointment is almost impossible. Read on for a rundown of some of this year’s innumerable highlights…

THURSDAY

You tend to get plenty of steps in at Big Ears, but I still recommend Knoxville’s Ijams Nature Center for hiking/sightseeing, especially if you have dogs to tucker out. We then started our festival proper at a new venue: First Presbyterian Sanctuary, one of four churches participating this year. It was a solo set by the mysterious Kramer, known for his work with Butthole Surfers and Ween as well as New York’s downtown music scene going back to the late ‘70s. This was a piano improv set to a feedback drone that kept getting louder and louder. A hooded, masked figure emerged and sat down next to Kramer partway through the set, but the piercing feedback whine got so loud we had to leave before we could determine who that was (my money’s on Shahzad Ismaily, though, who always seemed to be nearby whenever Kramer popped up all weekend). Always a risk at Big Ears; some music is MEANT to be an endurance test.

This would prove to be the only remote disappointment of the weekend. Our next stop was the beloved Mill & Mine for Yo La Tengo, who welcomed perennial Big Ears visitor William Tyler on guitar and Tortoise’s John McEntire on vibes for the whole show. It wasn’t a very improv-heavy set until they opened up the throttle on “I Heard You Looking”; as the jam built to a roar and sailed into a cooldown and then started raging again I got one of those feelings I rarely get any more, like if this were Madison Square Garden and we were a crowd ten times the size, we’d be walking out of there ecstatic, telling each other we just witnessed the greatest “Looking” of all time. But Yo La Tengo will never be that big, and hardcore fans can probably point to dozens of better versions of the song that they’ve played over the years. You still can’t take that feeling away from me.

Then there was the Tortoise set that followed in the same venue, which was merely on par with the expected amazingness of at least almost every Tortoise show. I’ve seen shows where they were so hooked up that every note, every space between every note dripped with suspense; this wasn’t one of those, but it was still the only performance by a band making Tortoise-type sounds, which sets it above most. From what I gather, they debuted two brand new songs at this show, as well as one they’d just released that very day in celebration of this blessed event: “Oganesson”, the first new song the group had given us in nearly ten years. Sorry for the pun but they’re standard-bearers for everything Big Ears stands for; we’d all be ecstatic if they were here every year.

Next up was supposed to be my chance to make good on my promise from two years ago to stop taking Béla Fleck for granted. That was before I learned that Geologist was playing at the Pilot Light at the same time. This classic dive bar used to be an official venue of the fest; nowadays they just hold their own free festival concurrently, and it’s the perfect place to pop in if you have some in-between time. This set was a little extra special, though; as Geologist tells it, this was the first place Animal Collective ever played outside their NYC comfort zone, way back in 2001, and in honor of this, he performed a set that rivaled any Animal Collective show I’ve seen, just by himself on a hurdy-gurdy hooked up to whatever electronic gizmos it was hooked up to. I have to figure this would’ve been an impossible ticket if the main fest weren’t pulling people away; talk about a collateral perk. This was one of the highlights of the whole weekend.

And we still had a Darkside set to go! It was a little surprising to me that Dave Harrington and Nicolas Jaar had nothing else on the schedule, considering they’re both quite prolific and make other music that’s arguably much more suited to a Big Ears crowd than Darkside is, but this was a pretty big get for the fest and the group didn’t disappoint, ending the first night with a fairly easygoing yet sufficiently dynamic set of lush synthpop that didn’t necessarily stick to the script laid out on their albums. Sure, I could’ve used more PSYCHIC material, and in the grand scheme they didn’t hit the heights of intensity a lot of Big Ears acts achieve, but they’re pretty new-agey by nature, and besides, we don’t wanna exhaust ourselves on the first night.

FRIDAY

One of this year’s quasi-official curator artists was Nels Cline, scheduled for at least five different sets throughout the festival (and none of them with Wilco, in case you were wondering). His Nels Cline Singers kicked off my Friday afternoon (following a brief sampling of Adam Rudolph: Hu Vibrational, a fairly chill, meditative warmup); after all, would it even be Big Ears without a Trevor Dunn appearance? This was to be the first public performance by the expanded Singers sextet; however, keyboardist Brian Marsella had to bow out due to impending fatherhood, so it was a quintet, and while Marsella’s presence can only enhance any endeavor, the Singers were phenomenal even without him. It wound up being some of the heaviest music of the weekend, doom-jazz of the highest order. Getting to see and hear Cline no holds barred (not to mention the always-riveting Cyro Baptista, and the sax mayhem of Skerik) has been a dream of mine ever since oh about my seventh emotive-yet-functionally-identical “Impossible Germany” guitar solo; it was everything I could’ve dreamed, and THEN they closed with a Gal Costa tribute?? I died ‘n went to heav’n. (Congrats to Brian; sincerely hope you can make it next year!)

Then it was time to scurry up Gay Street as fast as possible. I think this was the first year Knoxville had e-scooters available for us to e-rent; unfortunately, three out of four I attempted to commandeer said “vehicle unavailable”, which I assume just means they need to charge? But there were generally several near the M&M, making the journey between the extreme reaches of the festival map potentially much quicker. Then again, exercise can be good for your health. (Big Ears also offered bike rentals this year, and there was a trolley service once again; I haven’t availed myself of these options though.)

Jeff Parker’s ETA Ivtet was easily one of this year’s most anticipated sets, considering it was only the fourth time the combo played a show outside of L.A., and it had just released its debut album to ecstatic accolades. In all honesty, Parker’s banter was as endearing as the music; I’m not sure I’d ever heard him speak before! The show itself at the Bijou Theatre was fairly contained and traditional; however, hearing “Freakadelic” in particular it became obvious we have what should go down as a beloved new jazz standard on our hands, and the interplay between Parker and saxophonist Josh Johnson especially was so locked in I almost felt voyeuristic witnessing it.

Next up was a second opportunity to see Yo La Tengo, this time WITH the whole ass Sun Ra Arkestra at the Civic Auditorium. This sort of thing usually only happens at YLT’s annual Hannukah runs in New York; on paper it certainly looks unwieldy, and given the Arkestra’s somewhat underwhelming performance at this fest a couple years ago (http://www.you-phoria.com/Blog/2023/April/big-ears-2023), I would’ve had pretty low expectations, except the more time goes on, the less likely it seems to me that Ira Kaplan is going to helm any type of performance that fails to move me. So somewhat unsurprisingly, this set was also superb, full of proper Arkestra mindfuckery (“Nuclear War”, you HAVE to be from another planet to come up with shit like this) with YLT tunes and noise sprinkled throughout. How DO they do it?

After a quick bite we caught about half of Jessica Pratt’s hypnotic set at the Tennessee Theatre before hopping back to the Auditorium for esperanza spalding. I’ve never managed to be taken in by her albums but now I understand why people always rave about her live; you just can’t get the full impact of her vocal delivery through an mp3, and you definitely don’t get to hear her UNLEASH on the bass like that. Major kudos to her lighting designer too, and to two incredibly talented contemporary dancers (Kaylin Horgan and Tashae Udowho) for their duo routines throughout as well as breathtaking solos by each. Spalding’s sometimes dizzying combinations of philosophical and musical tangents really must be experienced live to be appreciated; this was one of the greatest self-contained concerts of the weekend.

The conflicts were getting nastier but now on my fourth trip to this fest I found it easier than ever simply to not think about what I was missing. It was Bill Frisell time. For this performance, dubbed “In My Dreams”, the legendary guitarist simply cherry-picked a jazz supergroup of favorite collaborators (Jenny Scheinman, Eyvind Kang, Hank Roberts, Tony Scherr, Rudy Royston, and special guest Greg Tardy on sax) and let them do what they do. I could’ve used a little more Frisell wizardry to be frank, but everyone on the stage was a treat; complaining would be silly, it was magnificent stuff.

I wasn’t able to tear myself away in time to catch all of ANOHNI & The Johnsons’ show; such is Big Ears life. For her part, ANOHNI spent a lot of time on a soapbox, preaching to a very receptive crowd; otherwise her voice sounded terrific. She doesn’t require much in the way of accompaniment to get her message across, and in the end that may have undercut her impact here just a bit, because The Johnsons, while always pretty out-there for indie rock, came off as almost painfully normal in a Big Ears context. I loved the set because I love the songs and the message; the band itself didn’t impress.

With a little time to kill we decided to pop in at the Pilot Light again. Taking the stage was Blunt Mansion, a punishing Knoxville instrumental metal combo who split the difference between Russian Circles/Pelican-style post-sludge and more manic BizarreX-type apecore. Big Ears kinda abandoned metal this year; Pilot Light’s “What For?” fest to the rescue! Commence much-needed headbanging.

Friday was really the big day for me; almost everything I saw was kind of a bucket-list item, none moreso than Les Claypool’s Bastard Jazz. The informal collective first played out in 2017 and, similarly to the ETA Ivtet, has only ever done a handful of gigs outside of California. Even Bonnaroo has never landed a Bastard Jazz booking. Now, I’ve been going to Primus shows since 1994, and for most of these three decades, if I had one complaint, it would be that they don’t JAM enough. Not that they’re SUPPOSED to be a jamband; I genuinely believe the songs are of utmost importance, because Primus songs are unlike any other kind of songs. Still, I have ALWAYS wondered…what it would be like…if Les were to walk out and just go to town. No plan, no songs, just improv. Well I finally got my wish. Joined by the great Stanton Moore of Galactic on drums, Skerik on sax, and Mike Dillon on the vibes, Les played a set that was akin to Phish’s ‘drive-in jam’ at Magnaball for me (http://www.you-phoria.com/Blog/2015/August/Magnaball), one of those scary instances where you’ve been following an artist your whole adult life and you finally get to be there for THE night where they do the thing you’ve always wanted to see them do. Like, now what, STEVE? You’ll never top this!

The best part was about an hour into the set, when he started going into his usual Claypool banter routine, then realized this crowd would not remotely understand his jokes and said, “I have no idea what to say to you people.” He then proceded as if everyone knew exactly who Captain Shiner was and revealed that the giant structure found underneath the pyramids at Giza is actually “the biggest Bucc-ee’s you’ve ever heard of”. He then began playing the bassline from “Rumble Of The Diesel” and another 25 minutes of jamming ensued. The set had begun with some distinct hints of “David Makalaster”, though I wouldn’t say it was ever explicitly teased; an hour and a half later they concluded with a few minutes of the same, one of those full-circle tricks to blow the minds of like six people in the audience who actually notice it. I’m pretty sure I heard “Tommy The Cat” and “Too Many Puppies” teases in the first jam, and there was a pretty lengthy “Black Sabbath” jam, plus whole verse of “Groundhog’s Day” much later on, although the music only loosely resembled the Primus song. There were of course the cheesiest of classic rock teases too. Otherwise it was just pure weird free-flowing improv. I can’t think of many (arguable?) rock stars who could come to Big Ears and act like they belong there; you might say I felt pretty proud of my guy.

SATURDAY

There’s a real freedom in getting all your wish-fulfillment out of the way; I still had one hugely-anticipated set left, but in general I was just bopping around the rest of the fest. Like a terrible Milwaukeean, I had never attended a Present Music event before; so happy that’s no longer true, as Carla Kihlstedt brought the 13-piece contemporary-music troupe along to perform her latest work with her. The album was only a day old; it’s called 26 LITTLE DEATHS, a song cycle inspired by Edward Gorey’s THE GASHLYCRUMB TINIES, each quirky piece backed by a projection of the appropriate page of Gorey’s treasured book. Beginning to end, utterly captivating. So much laughter, so many tears, the whole gamut.

Brìghde Chaimbeul was my next priority; unfortunately her reputation had preceded her and the line at the Jig, forget about it. So I was forced to watch a supergroup of artists from the Joyful Noise label do a cacophonous set of improv in the beer garden behind Pretentious Beer Company; woe was me. The ensemble consisted of Wendy Eisenberg, Macie Stewart, Shahzad Ismaily, Kramer, Thor Harris, Greg Saunier, Tall Tall Trees, and Hope Littwin. Between their usual instruments and stuff they found laying around on the makeshift stage, the group performed a powerful set of chaotic, occasionally grooving improv that touched briefly on Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams”, revealing the group’s true pop ambitions. Plus, the Joyful Noise IPA on tap was a real taste explosion.

I still managed to catch a good chunk of Beak>’s set as well, which was very much up my alley as a friend of mine had suggested. The group was a suitable opener for Michael Rother, who would follow them at the Mill; sadly, Beth Gibbons, who’d performed at the fest on Friday night, did not pop in to wish her old Portishead bandmate Geoff Barrow well on this, his final tour with this band he started. (I’d conjectured that Adrian Utley, who has worked quite a bit with TORRES—who was supposed to be at Big Ears but canceled at the last minute—could conceivably have been in the area as well, but as far as I know, there was no surprise Portishead reunion; sigh.) A fun, refreshingly danceable set all the same.

Speaking of surprise sets. There wasn’t much to speak of on that front. There seemed to be more effort put into this aspect of the event years ago; the past two years, though, it’s just ‘hey this artist who’s already on the schedule is also doing this other set’. It’s not much fun trying to guess what collaborations might pop up when the answers tend to be so underwhelming, just sayin’.

Although I probably should’ve made a point of catching part of Maruja’s set, I trust I’ll have another shot some day; Michael Rother, who knows? Witnessing the true original purpose the motorik beat was created for, that’s a valid concern, and for anyone who didn’t necessarily realize how deep the influence of Neu! and Harmonia runs in modern psych music, this was their history lesson. “Just one wish from me”, said Rother about halfway through the riveting set of classics: “move freely if you can! Dance!” A small contingency of attendees duly complied.

I wanted to be sure and check out at least a little bit of “133 Years Of Reverb”, a Jonny Greenwood composition “…written to agitate and reanimate all the music, voices and sounds that have ever filled the air/soaked into the walls of the space where the music is played.” When I sat down in a pew at St. John’s Cathedral, it was Eliza McCarthy at the pipe organ, and the extremely minimalist drone wore on. At that moment I was in need of rest; I may have even nodded off for a minute here or there as I soaked in the organ tones. At some point James McVinnie walked out and turned the page of the sheet music, then quickly disappeared again; this was the only discernable movement I perceived onstage while I was in there, maybe 20 minutes of the piece’s eight-hour runtime. I hope it succeeded in its stated goal.

Feeling restored, I made the mile trek to The Point, a small church where Javanese singer Peni Candra Rini was performing an enchanting set of music I couldn’t understand any words of. There was Ismaily on bass again, in control of the sparse accompaniment, while a cool series of shadow-plays and low-fi visuals were projected on a screen behind them. The cultural implications of it all were totally lost on me, yet I felt the impact all the same; all I can really tell you is that Rini’s an incredible singer and music is indeed a universal language.

From Indonesia to Ireland in the space of a few blocks’ walk now, for the impossibly lush sounds of Lankum. The guys from Beak> had declared earlier that Lankum was their favorite band in the world; when I first heard ‘em a couple years ago I damn near felt the same way. The group seems bent on reclaiming traditional Celtic music for a new generation, and there hasn’t been this fresh of a take on the style in decades. The band struck an activist tone quickly; after opening with their ultra-doomy rendition of the usually upbeat folk staple “The Irish Rover”, they played their own “The New York Trader”, which bled into a short piece they debuted at Glastonbury last year called “The Rocks Of Palestine”. Ostensibly a reworking of an old Irish tune called “The Rocks Of Bawn”, it elicited raucous call-and-response “Free! Free! Palestine!” chants from the crowd.

I was more stoked to see Lankum on this year’s lineup than probably any other name. The funny thing is, after being obsessed with their FALSE LANKUM record for over a year, then obsessing over singer/multi-instrumentalist Radie Peat’s other band, ØXN, and then almost three full days of Big Ears…Lankum’s set was exactly what I expected it to be and no more. They have a sound all their own, and it’s a powerful sound; their vocal arrangements alone are in a class by themselves. I almost wish I’d only read about them before; I liked them too much already to be blown away.

So I made a painful choice: leave early, and get in line for حمد__ [Ahmed]. Last night some friends had been bubbling over with superlatives about the group’s performance earlier that evening, and I knew it was going to be packed—as it turned out, the tiny __Regas Square event space was at capacity 20 minutes before showtime. With about ten minutes to go, they started letting a few more premier passholders in—the cutoff point was two people ahead of me, arrrrrrgh. Now it was one-out-one-in. As the line kept growing behind me, though, I liked my chances. And then the artists and VIPs began trickling in, arrrrrrrgh. As it turned out, though, I only missed the first 15 minutes or so before enough people had experienced “enough” and all the VIPs were safely inside. The Ahmed formula sounds simple: each performance consists of a single Ahmed Abdul-Malik composition, rearranged and expanded upon exponentially by the piano/bass/drum/sax quartet in a ferocious single-minded free-jazz odyssey. The music is relentless because nobody solos; it’s all based around simple themes and patterns endlessly repeated and adapted to; sometimes the changes seem to take forever and sometimes they’re impossibly sudden, giving the impression that once the music has begun, the musicians have relinquished control completely and are only holding on for dear life, trying to cope with this monster they created. It was…incredible.

With about ten minutes remaining in the group’s time slot, a guy near me who’d been getting more and more agitated turned around and screamed at the back of the room “SHUT UUUUP!” Within a minute a couple other attendees voiced their agreement. Yep, it happened: chompers at Big Ears. It takes a lot to rip yourself away from a performance like this to yell at people, but it needed to happen. There were wayyy too many people in that room just making the scene; perhaps next year those people should stay the FUCK out of Knoxville that weekend and sip their beverages and jabber away at a nightclub somewhere. Or, I dunno, jump off a bridge. Either way, there were long fucking lines of people outside who actually wanted to take in this music, and you people talking were insulting not only the biggest buzz band of the festival but every actual music fan inside and outside the venue. FUUUUUCK. YOUUUUUU. ALLLLLL.

SUNDAY

There was nothing left that I was dying to see, which is a big part of what made this Big Ears extra enjoyable for me. After three days of this shit, sometimes you hit capacity inside; then if your big event is on Sunday, you run the risk of being too burnt out to properly enjoy it. Me, I didn’t care what happened today.

Phantom Orchard, what the hell is that? Why, it’s a Zeena Parkins/Ikue Mori duo project, harp and um ET CETERA. Big Ears is a true playground for the most creative of artists, indulging in multimedia projects that might never be feasible to take on the road. The music is too good to let your eyes have their way, yet you don’t dare close ‘em. The musicians might at any point just pick up thin sheets of gold metal and start waggling them at each other. The centerpiece of this Phantom Orchard set at the Bijou, though, featured a powerful animated backdrop perfectly fitted to the duo’s indescribable music. Amidst themes of nature versus technology, primitive versus modern, etc., the thought I had was that the harp has to be the most intrinsically spiritual Western instrument; Parkins’ techniques ranged from the inscrutable to the utterly sublime, plumbing all depths in addition to whatever else she was tinkering with, while Mori’s mixture of beats, found sounds and manipulations thereof felt limitless, as if she’d no sooner have an impulse than it’d be translated to sound. It was an unexpectedly emotional headswim, such a vast array of sounds and visuals so perfectly interwoven, how do people get that GOOD at things.

The grounds were pretty dead; surprisingly, the Mill wasn’t even half full when I got there during Lonnie Holley & Friends’ set. I’m starting to think of Holley as the grand marshal of Big Ears or something; I probably should’ve found an act I wasn’t familiar with to check out, but Holley casts spells with his words, and he always gathers such an incredible bunch of musicians to the stage. Today it was Sam Que, Rich Ruth, Allison de Groot, Patrick M’Gonigle, Parker James, Ismaily n’ Kramer again, Evie Andrus, Lee Bains III, and Alabaster dePlume, and good lord what a glorious din. They saved the best for last, too; following an impassioned bit of banter, Holley said “No key from me; you all start playing and I’ll come in…” at which the musicians all looked at each other, smiling incredulously. Without glancing backward, Holley gave them some semblance of a beat, Shahzad offered up a simple theme, and they all created one of the most astounding pieces of music I heard all weekend. I implore you, if you ever have a chance to see this shaman in action, don’t pass it up.

We expected the Susan Alcorn tribute set to be emotional and it sure was. The pioneering pedal-steel guitarist was slated to appear at this year’s festival; sadly, she passed away in January, leaving members of her band (Mary Halvorson, Bonnie Lander, Ryan Sawyer, yuniya edi kwon, and Lester St. Louis) to perform some of her works at The Standard. It was otherworldly; only in the aftermath was I left wishing I could’ve heard what it would’ve sounded like with Alcorn playing along. At this point in the Big Ears review you start running out of ways to describe how mind-bogglingly talented some humans are.

Jackson Terminal was pretty packed for Mabe Fratti’s afternoon set. Accompanying the singer/cellist were just drummer Friso Van Wijck and guitarist Héctor Tosta de la Rosa, and although I’m a big fan of Fratti’s 2024 album SENTIR QUE NO SABES, from her reputation I’d been expecting something a little wilder and more experimental. She and her band save that for the live show apparently, an increasingly rare but astute move for artists who want to truly impress their fans. It’s apples and oranges, maybe, but this is exactly what was missing for me from Lankum’s set—that level-jump from studio to concert. I got major Morphine vibes from this set; I don’t have many higher compliments than that to dole out.

After this we had a leisurely afternoon; if you want me to go go go every minute of a festival for journalism’s sake, then pay me. The only main event on my horizon was Anoushka Shankar’s set at the Tennessee. I was feeling a little chagrined because I had lost track of her career since 2005 or so; I absolutely loved that RISE album but it’s not like she’s constantly passing through Milwaukee. Thus I was bowled right over by her set; I had thought it would be, I dunno, mellower, a little new-agey, and although I did find drummer Sarathy Korwar to be a tad rock-ish for my tastes, it was a minor quibble; his solo was mercifully brief and at peak moments he did propel the band to great heights. I have to single out clarinetist Arun Ghosh, too, not only for his numerous solos but for the way his playing intertwined with Shankar’s sitar stylings during the most interesting sections of improv, a couple of true masters.

It was already time for Explosions In The Sky; there’s no way to slow the minutes sufficiently when you’ve escaped a Wisconsin winter and are about to return to “just seeing shows” after Big Ears. I was keeping an open mind but had no real excitement for this festival-closing set. The only time I’d seen the band before was…omg my words about it still exist on the internet (https://www.jambase.com/article/lollapalooza-08-01-08-03-chicago)! I guess I enjoyed that Lollapalooza ’08 set more than I recalled; the amazing part is my impression of EITS hasn’t changed much. Whereas Mogwai, their most obvious influence, has gone through all kinds of good and bad stylistic changes over the years, EITS sound exactly the same as they did 20 years ago, and despite the fact that I’d all but written them off, that sound is a grand way to close out an epic weekend. ‘Oh yeah!’ said my muscles; ‘I remember this…!’ and then it was over. You’re pretty great, Explosions, but I only have room in my heart for one Mogwai.

EPILOGUE: MONDAY

Passing by Richmond, KY on our way to Knoxville, we’d noticed a Buc-ee’s sign and marveled at the impossibly long row of gas pumps. The internet revealed that this wasn’t even the biggest Buc-ee’s around; I vaguely recalled seeing those signs before but didn’t really know what Buc-ee’s was about. Given the recent revelation that the company pre-dates Egypt’s early dynastic period, we were now determined to actually patronize one. We had no idea what we were getting into. The Big Ears->Buc-ee’s transition was one of the harshest culture shocks I’ve ever experienced; I still feel a little queasy thinking about wandering around that place. Yes, the bathrooms were very clean; however, I’m confident that 90% of what they sell in that place as “food” would be illegal in Europe. Beaver Nuggets? Margarine is listed right on the ingredients list! Still, we recalled at some point a friend talking about these things in hushed tones as if they were a delicacy. We had to know. They look like they’re going to taste like Honey Smacks or Corn Pops or something; the actual experience of eating one is more akin to biting down on a ventricle and feeling it crack and wither into dust. It was less than a day later I learned that they’re building one of these monstrosities in Oak Creek??? How depressing. Just when it seemed Oak Creek was on the upswing, it’s about to degenerate rapidly into rural Indiana. I’m just telling you all now, in case you weren’t aware. You don’t have to ‘see what it’s like’, I’ve done that for you. Even if you don’t trust ANY of my opinions on music, trust me on this: STAY AWAY FROM BUC-EEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee…….