Big Ears is an exceedingly eclectic festival. Most festivals stick to one genre, maybe two. Big Ears says, “Genre? LOL. How about ALL of them?”

This is the 10th year of Big Ears, drawing more than 20,000 fans March 30 to April 2 to see 100-plus acts at venues concentrated in Knoxville’s beautiful, artsy downtown. Park once and you can walk to all the venues.

Big Ears is a choose-your-own-adventure kind of festival. Fest-goers can pick a genre and wallow in it – jazz, world beat, Americana, folk, classical, ambient country (did you know there’s such a thing as ambient country?) – or wander a crooked route among them.

I mostly stuck to an Americana path through Big Ears, because that’s my main interest and because I’d crawl across the Sahara to hear Sierra Ferrell and Allison Russell. Americana, fortuitously, trods a wide path itself, incorporating country, folk, blues, roots rock, bluegrass and more.

Here are a few highlights from days one and two. In the next story, I’ll tell you what Big Ears means.

Allison Russell

Allison Russell is a wonder.

She can sing about the most awful things, the most terrible things, tell stories about awful, terrible things. They will break you. And yet, her music is so full of joy. She is so full of joy, so full of life, so full of the joy of life. It’s a wondrous thing. She’ll break you down and build you back up better than you were before.

She sings of the awful abuse she endured as a child. “Father used me like a wife / Mother turned the blindest eye,” on “4th Day Prayer.” On “Persephone,” she sings of how she would escape her stepfather and sneak into her young lover’s house: “Tap, tap, tapping on your window screen / Gotta let me in, Persephone.” Oh, the ache you feel for that poor child.

She talked of her anger at the school shooting just days before in Nashville, her home, that killed children the same age as hers.

And then, though, her voice is so soaring, so sinewy and powerful, the music so uplifting, her spirit so good and giving. You find yourself tearing up, crying as you sing along.

But they’re tears of joy.

And, a bonus: She announced that she recorded a new album in December, which will be released in September. She sang a few numbers, and they’re fabulous.

Adeem the Artist

Adeem the Artist is the most interesting artist in Americana. “White Trash Revelry” was the most interesting album of 2022.

Adeem couldn’t be more traditional country: Christian. Self-proclaimed redneck. Grew up poor in North Carolina, plays guitar and sings songs.

Adeem is also trans and nonbinary, performing at Big Ears in a flowery dress, lipstick, big daisy earrings, white cowboy boots, full beard and a cowboy hat, and uses they/them pronouns.

They’re also funny as hell and smart as a whip. Their songs interrogate the contradictions in their life. “I Never Came Out,” they sing, but not proud of it, and not ashamed either: “I didn’t have the language for the way I felt.”

The pastors condemn people like Adeem, but “I have a close, personal relationship with Jesus,” they told the crowd in all sincerity. And with a joke: “I keep trying to leave. I change my number, but he keeps finding me.”

A tender song about fumbling toward young, same sex love, or something like it. A funny, angry song about Toby Keith. A raunchy unreleased one about Jason Aldean. A rave-up about how they’re gonna take over the seats of political power and “Run This Town.”

What mainstream, party-on, bro-country artist wouldn’t kill for a song like the raver “Go to Hell”? The song invokes the devil’s dealings with both Robert Johnson AND Charlie Daniels, with the money line, “They play country songs in heaven, but in hell we play ‘em loud.”

Adeem’s got the chops. In a better world, they’d be a big country star. But maybe, just maybe, in this one too. Adeem told the crowd about a recent phone call – it was the Grand Ole Opry on the line with an invitation to perform.

Mountain Goats

Look, I kind of hate two things that reviewers sometimes do: Refer to themselves too much and profess their ignorance. My apologies: I’m going to do both.

I saw the Mountain Goats. I don’t know jack about them, really. They were great.

You know how sometimes you see someone at a party and they give you the big, “Hey! Great to see you!” kind of greeting, and you know you know them but can’t remember how. So, you’ve got to make that decision: Admit it or fake it. I usually fake it, hoping I’ll remember soon. I usually don’t. That’s me and the Mountain Goats. They’ve been around forever, put out 20 or so records – I should know them, all my hip friends know them. I just never did the discovery work. There are so many bands! I was gonna get to it! I follow not one but two band members on Twitter. They’re great there, too.

I did some research. I bought and listened to their latest album, Bleed Out, a couple times on the 10-hour drive to Knoxville. But, heck, they’ve got 20 albums, man.

So, I saw them at Big Ears. Everyone around me knew all the songs, laughed at the inside jokes, and sang along and danced. I seemed to be the only intruder at the club meeting. And it was OK! I’m an associate member of the club now.

They didn’t play my favorite song – hey, I have a favorite Mountain Goats song now, “Wage War, Get Rich, Die Handsome” – but that’s all right. They were great. Do you like rock? You’ll like them. They’re going on tour with Adeem the Artist. Go see them. And catch the opener too.

Tank and the Bangas

Tank and the Bangas is the perfect band for Big Ears. Big Ears revels in the diversity of the music it presents. Tank and the Bangas is a worldwide fest all on its own.

The talented and charismatic Tarriona “Tank” Ball is the rocket fuel for it all. Her astonishingly elastic voice seemingly has no limits. One second Ball is a jazz crooner, the next a speed rapper. She belts like a Broadway star. She vocalizes squeaks and trills, chirps and fills, staccato rhythms like a beatboxer. She sings in a little girl voice, then hits a dazzling opera run.

And that’s just in one song.

Mid-set, the band turned “No ID” and “Big,” both from the latest album, “Red Balloon,” into extended funk workout jams. The band was jumping and so was the crowd, the dorkiest among us dancing like we just didn’t care.

As the band lays down a bed of New Orleans based funk, Ball shakes and shimmies. She gets the crowd going with a call and response. Her face contorts to complete the joke a lyric suggests.

Some music biz guru might tell the band to pare things back a little bit. Pick a lane, develop a following in a defined genre. They probably could. I hope they don’t. Because what they’re doing now is thrilling and brilliant.

Find out more about Big Ears Festival at the links below: