Denton, 12.13.2025

The first annual Joan of Bark Fest at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios was a beautifully paced, eclectic evening of adventurous music. A mix of touring acts and locals, with some first time collaborations.

Opening set, in the Rubber Room with sound tech Miguel Espinel at the controls, was by the ad hoc improv Joan of Bark Ensemble, comprising Sarah Jay and Rachel Weaver on electronics, Will Frenkel on cello, curator Sarah Ruth Alexander on voice, Wen Lit on violin, Elizabeth McNutt on flute and theremin, Paul Slavens on keyboard and synthesizer, and Gabe Lit on clarinets. After a tentative beginning, Sarah announced that they would be playing a conduction, and executed a series of dance moves that the musicians interpreted. Then a couple of audience members had a try before Paul and Gabe took their turns. (You could tell who had previous conducting experience.) An easy and fun ice breaker.

After timely pause, the action shifted to the main room, where sound tech Aubrey Seaton was holding down the desk, for a trio of cellist Henna Chou and bassists Aaron Gonzalez and Kory Reeder. The performance began with arco drones until first Chou, then Gonzalez, introduced melodic elements, shifting between pizzicato and arco while Reeder provided ringing overtones. A brief but satisfying conversation.

I regret that I wasn't able to get any good pictures of the duo Evil Horns in the Rubber Room, as I dallied too long in the lobby and wound up standing in back out of crappy phone camera range. But clarinetist Gabe Lit and tenor saxophonist Nikki D'Agostino conducted another spirited dialogue, intertwining their sounds in a stream of unisons, harmonies, and occasional dissonance, exploring the full range of their horns. Lit's bass clarinet, here and with the Ensemble, was particularly welcome as I hadn't heard one live since Emily Rach Beisel visited Denton around this time last year.

Then it was back to the main room for the first time collaboration between noise artists Wenepa (on this occasion, Melanie Little Smith and Suzanne Terry) and Tulsa-based Spirit Plate (Warren Realrider, Mateo Galindo, and Nathan Young). The music started with a pulsing drone and the tintinnabulous sounds of small instruments, amplified and treated electronically, with Smith vocalizing. Gradually the electronic drone rose to a crescendo, filling the senses. Smith's drumming on a tom gave the piece a ritual, ceremonial feel. Gradually, the tempo accelerated and with it the drone's intensity until gradually it diminished and abruptly stopped. A cleansing exorcism.

After that unremitting intensity, a listener might have craved some relief, and that came in the form of the next Rubber Room set, by Austin-based Little Mazern. On this occasion, singer-songwriter Lindsey Verrill performed solo, accompanying herself on banjo (with some electronic effects) and cello. The sweetness of her songcraft -- like rustic Americana with clever, wry, contemporary lyrics -- and the vulnerability of her voice drew the audience in. At one point, she commented that she'd just finished reading a biography of Arthur Russell, who said he was "the songwriter that experimental people liked." This drew laughs and a hoot of recognition. "This room is so quiet and tender," Verrill remarked. It was us responding to her and the mood she created.

Soothed by that healing balm, the audience trooped back into the main room for the evening's most cathartic set: the first-time collaboration of Dallas based electronic pop artist Mattie with two thirds of Trio Glossoa: Joshua Canate on drums and tenor sax, and Stefan Gonzalez on vibraphone and drums. I dug the fact that Mattie kept her electronics at a comparable volume to the vibraphone (the quietest instrument should always be the pacing item, IMO), and the way her collaborators responded to every rhythmic nuance she was laying down. Her costuming and vocalization gave the set an Afrofuturist vibe (think Octavia Butler observing the Heaven's Gate cult) and the two percussionists -- who share a house as well as Trio Glossia's stage -- played like one thunderously high energy polyrhythmic hydra. Gonzalez performed with his trademark physicality, and Canate's testimony on tenor was the icing on the cake. A trio I'd dig to see perform again.

A hard act to follow, but White Boy Scream -- the performing rubric of Filipino-American composer/opera singer/sound artist Micaela Tobin -- was equal to the task. A faculty member at CalArts, she's currently based in Tulsa on an artist fellowship, and will certainly turn anyone's idea of opera on its head. Tobin augments her classically pure voice and extended vocal techniques with electronic gadgetry that makes her voice sound like an electric guitar on the verge of feedback meltdown, using loops to create choral effects, shrieking and roaring over beds of harsh noise and juddering rhythm. Her music is informed by ancestral mythology, particularly her operas Bakunama: Opera of the Seven Moons and Apolaki: Opera of the Scorched Earth. Tobin takes vocal performance to the edge and beyond, and her stunning set was the perfect way to end this night of music to fill the heart and head. Can't wait to see what Joan of Bark Presents has on tap in the new year.