Ida, Ava Mirzadegan
Johnny Brenda’s
1201 Frankford Ave.
Philadelphia, PA
Oct. 11, 2026
Is it too bold to suggest that an Ida + Ava tour poster would go hard? Last night was the band Ida’s tour kickoff; I am really late to this band – they formed in the early '90s, and are back in action after a decade-plus hiatus – and in typical-me fashion, I opted to keep it that way, going into the show without doing even a shallow dive or wade into their catalogue; better to experience it fresh. But I made sure to show up early for a solo set from local artist Ava Mirzadegan, a singer I’m definitely familiar with (full disclosure, she once ran a tape label that released music I’ve made), though I’ve only really witnessed her in DIY spaces until now.
If you were there, you know: Mirzadegan’s got a quietly devastating voice, and the Johnny Brenda’s sound system had her sounding as good as any singer I’ve ever seen there. Accompanying herself on classical guitar (with a fingertip-light touch that reminds me of felt-dampened piano), she was in commanding, firm control of her voice, whether breathily singing long notes or humming a wordless tune – and though the music was soft and gentle, there was nothing gossamer or flimsy about it: Mirzadegan’s songs tend to deal in grief, but she handles the heavy subject with grounded counterweight, a deep sense of resiliency, of latent strength and poise. Singing about a departed parent, she’d play a beautiful, cascading 6/8 fingerpicked pattern, open strings ringing, and sing the words “she’s gone,” holding out the word gone on a note outside the chord, this overtone-rich musical gesture that is so understated and mysterious and exactly right about how those complex emotions really move. Ida’s fans were receptive and respectful, pin-drop quiet and holding all the tenderness of these songs, including a love song called “Orange” that was touchingly sweet – all the ways the object of the song’s affection remind the singer of the color, from autumn leaves to the “curry stains on your shirt.” (Mirzadegan was briefly joined by Ida’s violinist Jean Cook for droning open-5th accompaniment, an inspired choice and a reminder that chord progressions are overrated!)
Ida took the stage next, as a five-piece unit, and I opened up my ears. What did I hear? I was probably won over within 20 seconds, thinking, “This kind of reminds me of Yo La Tengo meets Jim O’Rourke… but now it’s drifting into Talk Talk territory, but there’s something soulful about the vocals, almost sacred or hymn-like…” (I don’t know why, but I wrote down “Bruce Hornsby” in my notes at one point – I’m getting old) and as the set expanded and swelled to include odd-metered songs with big riffs and open tunings galore (their tour poster has their tunings written on it; there’s TWENTY FIVE of them), I thought of more bands I love, specifically Low. Especially early Low: singer-guitarist Daniel Littleton definitely has an Alan Sparhawk quality to his voice, which I mean as the highest possible praise: a clear and beautiful tone that projects with seeming effortlessness, and a marvelous ear for harmony. Knowing the band started in the '90s, I felt like I’d stumbled on some kind of indie rock missing link. (Not to mention the inspired moment where they introduced a song as kind of unintentionally ripping off the vibe of the Twin Peaks; that song, "95 North," features a perfect opening couplet: "After the first time we kissed / I drove for an hour in the wrong direction.") Littleton impressed in a big way as a guitarist, too, reminding me of Yo La Tengo’s Ira Kaplan in the way he’d work out one-finger melodies along a single string, but also doing these amazing contrapuntal things with wide intervals and pianistic voicings, the unmistakable mark of a searching, omnivorous musical mind. The band was so dynamic, whether playing winding acoustic-guitar-based songs that showcased arpeggiated interplay, or heavier, fuzzed-out rock songs, that I could have handled at least another hour of songs; and I was madly charmed by singer-guitarist Elizabeth Littleton taking a beat before a few songs to make sure she remembered the chord shapes in whatever new weird tuning she’d gone into. “Day one of tour, y’all!” Daniel beamed, joking about their looseness, but the songs couldn’t have been more solid, more stirring. Let the deep dive begin...
