The first performance of the night was a dialogue between Morris on guitar and Nicole Mitchell on flute. Mitchell’s tasteful use of effects pedals and Morris’ full yet not overly dense accompaniment resulted in gorgeous soundscapes that welcomed the audience into their world. The duo had a very natural interplay, going back and forth, creating waves for each other to ride. The highlight of the set for me was when Mitchell put effects on her own voice, adding a distinctly human element to the already beautiful music. The night was off to a remarkable start.

Next on the bill was a quartet featuring Morris on guitar, Tomeka Reid on cello, Melanie Dyer on viola, and Solomon Caldwell on bass. This all-string ensemble was a celebration of the malleable nature of stringed instruments. Strings can be plucked, picked, bent, bowed, muted, etc., and the group undoubtedly explored the full range of their instruments and instrumentation. Morris had prepared a short suite of motifs that allowed for stunning group improvisation and dynamic variety. Morris dropped out at one point, proving that all great leaders are indeed great listeners. At the end of the suite, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

For the third set of the night, Morris, along with William Parker on bass and Matthew Shipp on piano, proved that they are among the very best groups ever to feature this classic instrumentation. Free music, since its inception, has been criticized by naysayers and nonbelievers for being random noise, notes on top of notes on top of more notes. Morris, Parker, and Shipp’s performance, while undeniably free, was anything but random. Shipp and Morris had a knack for going back and forth with each other, one always carving a niche for the other to fall into. Whether those niches were melodic statements, changes in density, or even consistent pulses, the two were always together, with Parker consistently adding contrast (and never contradicting). The performance was a masterclass in three musicians truly playing together. Focusing solely on the guitar work, Morris kept things fresh and exciting by seamlessly navigating between lush lyrical passages and dense, notey passages. Matthew Shipp, Joe Morris, and William Parker: three pillars of the creative music world and an eternal triangle if ever there was one.

The penultimate performance was a quintet and the first to feature Morris on bass. In many ways, this group evoked the same intense emotion that I felt when I first heard the music of Archie Shepp, Albert Ayler, and late-period Coltrane. Rob Brown and Hery Paz, on alto and tenor saxophones, respectively, blended beautifully atop the rhythm section’s playful foundation. The group had that rare ability to steadily elevate the music and the audience until things reached a fever pitch, and all of a sudden, we were in the stratosphere. Still, instead of plummeting, the music just floated like a feather back down to Earth. There couldn’t have been a better precursor to what we were about to experience with the next and final performance.

As for the final performance of the night, Morris’ octet, consisting of mostly younger musicians, delivered a truly transcendent set of music, the power of which is nearly impossible to impart in writing. The experience, sonically and emotionally, was the musical equivalent of a rocket launch. I consider it among the most exciting performances I’ve ever seen. Each musician was crucial, but Selendis Sebastian Alexander Johnson’s vibraphone and DoYeon Kim’s gayageum work added particularly interesting textures to the group’s sound. In the hands of these young improvisers, the future of creative music is very bright.

In between the trio and quintet sets, there was a screening of Michael Lucio Sternbach’s short documentary on Joe Morris, in which the musician discussed the profound impact of birds on his life and career. I felt this made perfect sense, as the music he and his groups performed seemed to move with the same confidence and sense of cohesion as birds flying in formation. Again, nothing was random.

I returned to the festival on Friday night to bear witness to Marshall Allen and The Cosmic Future All-Stars, who played with such palpable vitality that I found myself on the verge of tears. The band – consisting of Marshall Allen on alto saxophone and synthesizer, Darius Jones on alto saxophone, Dm Hotep on guitar, Dave Burrell on piano, Andrew Cyrille on drums, and William Parker on bass – performed a nearly hour-long improvised piece that ebbed and flowed gracefully and never lacked energy. Mickey Davidson’s gorgeous dancing and Kamari Patton’s acid-soaked projections added further depth and meaning to an already unspeakably moving and inspiring musical performance. I left the theater completely rejuvenated. Simply put, it was out of sight!

This year’s theme for the festival was “Art to Resist,” something I’d kept in mind throughout the week. Jazz and creative music have always been widely acknowledged as means of protest and resistance, so what does that mean in 2026? I concluded that in a world that is becoming increasingly calculated and artificial, the music performed at Vision 30 resists mediocrity and artificiality by being radically real and uniquely human. Every sound and sight, meticulously crafted by incredibly skilled human hands and minds, is a celebration of honesty, empathy, compassion, and listening – all things that make us better people. It’s in this pursuit that creative music and art successfully resist and persist.