[or: "What Happens When a High School Club Achieves Sentience and Summons Its Members Across Space-Time"]
In the year 2000, a progressive acoustic group called AVAS released one album on Little King Records and vanished into the multiverse. Now, twenty-five years later, the quantum entanglement that bound these musicians has reached critical mass, creating a temporal anomaly that threatens to collapse the space-time continuum unless they reconvene and complete the sonic ritual they began at a Nashville high school decades ago.
Jay Sanders—last seen communicating with entities from the music of the spheres—has been pulled from his Tuesday night quantum residency. Jason Krekel materialized mid-letterpress print, his guitar still vibrating at frequencies that transcend the four-track cassette dimension. Andy Pond arrived via slamgrass wormhole, his banjo emitting comfortable reggae radiation. Gaines Post was extracted from the Blue Mountains of Australia, where he'd been writing science fiction novels that were actually encoded messages from his flute about the nature of reality itself.
Supporting this cosmically improbable reunion: Zack Page, whose 275-gigs-per-year averaged bass lines have created gravitational wells across multiple timelines. Will Boyd, whose soul sax tradition channels frequencies from the Great American Sunday Hymnal Dimension where spirituals become literal doorways to transcendence. And Alan Hall, the percussion philosopher whose forty years of alchemical drumming—converting kinetic energy into bridges between the earthbound and ethereal—have finally revealed their true purpose: reopening the AVAS gateway.
What happens when Bill Frisell meets Mahavishnu Orchestra meets Väsen meets Raymond Scott meets your high school music club twenty-five years later in a bar that exists simultaneously in Asheville and several adjacent dimensions? The answer may destroy conventional understanding of music, shatter the known capabilities of wooden flutes, recalibrate the fundamental constants of bluegrass physics, and prove conclusively that the Acoustic Vibration Appreciation Society was never about acoustic vibrations—but rather about engineering a self-sustaining tear in the fabric of musical reality itself.
What began as a student club has evolved into a living organism, a sentient musical algorithm that spans decades and continents, pulling its scattered members back together like cosmic debris orbiting an invisible singularity. This isn't nostalgia. This is the universe demanding completion of an unfinished equation written in sound waves and string theory.
Witness the AVAS Continuum. Watch out for aliens. Bring your third eye. The fundamental vibrations are calling, and they're not taking "I moved to Australia" as an excuse.
[WARNING: This performance may cause spontaneous appreciation of sacred geometry, involuntary understanding of the music of the spheres, and the sudden realization that your high school music club was actually a prophetic vision of the future. Side effects include: seeing sounds, hearing colors, believing that banjos might actually save the universe, and the unsettling certainty that newgrass was always meant to be a trans-dimensional technology. No refunds for dimensional displacement. Existential dread not included but highly probable.]
Featuring
From the church pews of Orangeburg to the concert stages of Japan, Will Boyd carries the sacred fire of soul saxophone in his lungs and heart. This South Carolina State University alumnus didn't just study the tradition of Eddie Harris and Hank Crawford—he absorbed their DNA, then filtered it through his own musical genome to create something both reverent and revolutionary. Now splitting his time between the classrooms of UNC Asheville and Warren Wilson College, Will serves as both professor and prophet, teaching young musicians that technique without soul is just expensive noise. His EWI (Electronic Wind Instrument) doesn't replace his acoustic arsenal—it amplifies his voice across dimensions, while his wife Kelle Jolly's vocals provide the perfect harmonic counterpoint to his reed-driven narratives. Winner of the MLK Arts Award and inductee into South Carolina State's jazz hall of fame, Will transforms every stage into a sanctuary where the secular meets the spiritual, and the ancient language of the blues speaks directly to tomorrow's possibilities.
For over four decades, Alan Hall has been the heartbeat behind some of the most adventurous music on three continents, transforming drum sets into portals between the earthbound and the ethereal. From intimate European clubs with alto saxophone legend Lee Konitz to the surreal theatrical landscapes of Cirque Du Soleil and Teatro Zinzanni, Hall doesn't just keep time—he bends it, stretches it, and occasionally makes it disappear entirely. His sticks have danced behind Paul McCandless's haunting oboe meditations and Art Lande's keyboard explorations, while his seven-year tenure at Berklee College of Music shaped countless young musicians who now carry his rhythmic DNA across the globe. This isn't just a drummer who's logged tens of thousands of miles touring Europe, the USA, and Canada—this is a percussion philosopher who understands that every snare crack and cymbal wash is a conversation between tradition and revolution, between what jazz was and what it could become. His two published drum books and magazine articles serve as love letters to an instrument that, in Hall's hands, becomes less of a timekeeper and more of a time traveler.
Some musicians chase the notes—Zack Page lets them chase him, which might explain how he's managed to average 275 gigs per year since the mid-1990s, turning bass lines into highways that stretch from Virginia backroads to Swiss jazz festivals to Asheville's intimate listening rooms. This rhythm section nomad carries dual citizenship in the worlds of heavy metal and jazz, a musical passport stamped by legendary drummer Billy Higgins and acclaimed clarinetist Eddie Daniels, earned through decades of wandering between Los Angeles studios, New York City sessions, and now the Blue Ridge Mountains. His four strings have held down the low end on cruise ship stages and gypsy jazz jams with equal authority, whether he's anchoring 'One Leg Up' in Asheville's Django-influenced underground or laying foundation stones for folk rock storytellers. From electric bass at eleven to acoustic mastery in college, Page embodies the restless spirit of American music itself—always moving, always grooving, always making everyone around him better. As fellow trumpeter Justin Ray observed, that's the hallmark of truly great musicians: they don't just play their part, they elevate everyone else's.
In the sonic laboratory of Asheville's Blue Ridge Mountains, Jay Sanders conducts experiments where Sonny Sharrock's raw electricity meets John Hartford's pastoral wisdom, where Bill Frisell's ambient textures dance with Dave Holland's rhythmic architecture. This guitarist-composer-alchemist doesn't just write music—he constructs musical universes from the ground up, whether he's crafting intimate chamber pieces or preparing symphonic statements for the Blue Ridge Orchestra. His 2024 solo debut 'Evanescent' reads like a love letter to impermanence itself, featuring seven original compositions plus a tone poem dedicated to the Voyager spacecraft, performed by an eight-person ensemble that German critics praised for its 'astonishing range of styles and sounds.' From organizing Asheville's inaugural Improvisational Music Festival to serving on URSA Asheville's board, Sanders embodies the community-building spirit that transforms mountain towns into musical meccas. His upcoming 'Sinfonietta Helene,' premiering with the Blue Ridge Orchestra in September 2025, represents not just a personal artistic milestone, but the moment when decades of cross-genre exploration crystallize into symphonic form—proving that the most profound musical innovations happen when you're brave enough to let jazz, rock, blues, metal, and African influences speak the same language.
When Andy Pond enrolled at Appalachian State University in Boone, his brother George and George's then-wife Caroline joined him to form Snake Oil Medicine Show, coining the term "slamgrass" for their colorful and kinetic update on old-time string music—soon inflecting it with deep pockets of jam-inspired groove, shades of rockabilly smoothness, and most famously, comfortable reggae rhythms. It was, as Caroline puts it, "the perfect thing for us to do, to move to North Carolina, to be in the roots of Appalachian music and learn from old time music and bluegrass music." Nineteen years into Snake Oil's career, the band has become something of an Asheville institution—frequenting every music festival and venue these mountains offer, representing an intersection of world music and traditional Southern sound that's become synonymous with the city's sonic hallmarks. Their experiences traveling to Jamaica to learn reggae music and incorporating bluegrass with reggae created "such an amazing sound" that North Carolina—Boone and Asheville—proved the perfect place to experiment, mixing genres with abandon. Beyond Snake Oil, Andy became a founding force in AVAS (The Acoustic Vibration Appreciation Society) alongside Jay Sanders, Jason Krekel, and others—a progressive acoustic group that released their self-titled debut in 2000, blending newgrass with influences ranging from Bill Frisell and Mahavishnu Orchestra to Scandinavian folk legends. These days, this teacher and musician focuses on "fostering creative learning environments, promoting World Peace through Music and Art, and attending to forgiveness and acceptance." From Boone student to Asheville institution, from slamgrass inventor to world peace advocate, Andy Pond proves that the best banjo players don't just pick strings—they pick philosophies, picking their way through genres and geographies until they find the sound that makes reggae and bluegrass not just coexist, but groove together like they were always meant to.
Born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee, Gaines Post was part of the original high school student club that became AVAS (The Acoustic Vibration Appreciation Society), reuniting with Jay Sanders and mandolinist Jason Krekel when the group reformed as a progressive acoustic ensemble that later expanded to include violinist Cailin Campbell and banjo player Andy Pond. The group released their self-titled debut on Little King Records in 2000, featuring original compositions that blended newgrass with influences ranging from Bill Frisell and Mahavishnu Orchestra to Scandinavian folk legends Väsen and Raymond Scott. Post transported himself to southeastern Australia in 2007, where he now lives in the Blue Mountains, spending his time dodging parrot droppings, racking his brain, and writing science fiction and fantasy as a published author. He runs The Otherspect blog at [otherspect.com](https://otherspect.com), moderates the Otherspect Storytelling and Discussion Forum on Discord, and has published novels including "The Pinnacle" and "Of Time-Cracked Granite." After a 15+ year hiatus from music, he got back into playing in late 2020, performing at open mics and local coffee shops in the Blue Mountains. From Nashville student to progressive acoustic pioneer to Australian author and musician, Gaines Post proves that the flute belongs wherever adventurous musicians gather—and that sometimes the best second act involves trading Appalachian acoustic adventures for Blue Mountain wilderness, science fiction narratives, and the occasional open mic that reminds you why the flute mattered in the first place.
Jason Krekel attended Jimmy Buffett concerts as a baby—strapped to his father Tim's back while dad played lead guitar—absorbing the songwriter, studio, and publishing scene of Nashville before he could even speak. When his father handed him a guitar at 14 with zero pressure attached, young Krekel took lessons with future collaborator Jay Sanders, played their first gig together in 11th grade, then headed to Boone for college where he dove headfirst into bluegrass, old-time, and whatever else had strings attached. Three decades later, this multi-instrumentalist has built an Asheville empire of sound that defies categorization: hot jazz revivalist with the Firecracker Jazz Band (playing Bonnaroo and keeping 1920s dance floors packed), surf rock tornado with The Krektones, punk ukulele provocateur in Mad Tea Party/Krekel and Whoa, bluegrass explorer with Snake Oil Medicine Show, and collaborator with everyone from Seattle guitar legend Baby Gramps to Trombone Shorty. His philosophy on why vintage jazz still slaps? "People had to make their entertainment. They couldn't just push a button and get a Spotify playlist." Krekel doesn't just play music—he designs album covers through his Hand-Cranked Letterpress, appeared on David Letterman, recorded comedy songs for LaZoom tours, and somehow made the 2004 BlueBrass Project (Asheville roots meeting New Orleans brass) make perfect sense. His latest venture, Bam-A-Lam (launched 2023), proves his point: "Everything I've done in my musical life has informed how I play now." From banjo to guitar, from Jazz Age parlors to garage rock chaos, from Nashville birthright to Asheville chosen-home, Krekel proves that the most interesting careers spiral outward like vinyl grooves—each rotation revealing new collaborations, new sounds, new reasons to make people care about music made with actual hands.
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