Mushroom Church
First Presbyterian Church
2619 Broadway Ave, Oakland
October 4, 2025
Two flora, two fungi, and one fauna made up the night’s electrical inputs as Modern Biology, a sonic project conceived and orchestrated by musician and biologist Tarun Nayar, electrified First Presbyterian Church last Saturday evening via synth and special guests. This leg of the Mushroom Church tour, ending on this continent in a few weeks and set to resume in Europe in April, Nayar has been joined by Zekarias Musele Thompson on saxophone and, for the Oakland show, Phillip Laurent on the church’s gorgeous organ, overseeing us all.
Last weekend’s experience was part science-ish talk and meditative philosophical meanderings, with a poetry reading, improvised song of gratitude, Q & A sesh, and, of course, the symphony of organically-powered synth sounds. The sound was strongest when the musicians were deep into the moment, their improvised collaboration filling out the spacious hall; up to the arched ceilings and projected animations above into each of our bodies. To my ears, the weakest moments came with the addition of Scottish poet Fiona Glen's “goth mushroom poetry” Mycoglossia piped in. Overall, the two-ish hour event was very much a Saturday evening well spent, wrapping early enough to further unwind with a drink down the block or your tea at home, plenty of time to get the few children in attendance in bed.
After short opening remarks and welcome, the lights (with some difficulty) went down, and we were treated to something of a sound bath, but with more texture and immediacy. Invited to close our eyes, relax deeply, even lie down on the carpeted floor or velvet-lined pews, Nayar plugged in first a single stem, its yellow head one of his favorite flowers: marigold. The volume rose and a series of soft, plaintive notes joined the chorus: Thompson had entered the room, making their way down the aisle to the stage, gently coaxing the piece into more expansive territory, at once full of levity and melancholy, a swirling of notes so well intertwined with Nayar’s manipulated, man and flower made ones I had to open my eyes to be sure the instrument had in fact been playing.
Take me to church! For the plants, and the drama.
After the marigold we heard some maple, to which Nayar claimed partiality, due to his Canadian roots, and then, a shroom. But with which to start? An audience show of poll (yours truly being in the minority) handily chose the “young, cute” lion’s mane over the oyster. “Lion’s mane is having a moment,” someone the row ahead of me whispered, and they’re not wrong. The almost fuzzy, brainy little bulbs boast adaptaginic qualities as well as vegan-leaning culinary ones, and have risen to cult-wellness status in recent years. One part xylophone, one part harpsichord, and a host of other vibes I cannot relate via my limited musical knowledge, the fruit, filtered through wires and preprogrammed synthesizer, produced a plucky, keyed vibe. The oyster, by contrast, came on deeper, more melancholy and bell-like in its clarity. When layered together they became sadder, almost “like its mourning or something,” as Nayar put it.
The plants and fungi are receptive to human input, and we were encouraged to clap and shout encouragements and love towards them. We also learned, somewhat to my surprise, that they are less active at night, but highly receptive to energy work: in an experiment with a friend who practices reiki, Nayar found they were able to “awaken” the plants to great effect, producing far more output after the process than prior. Chartable, audible difference.
Audience volunteer (or voluntolder), dressed for the occasion.
Geosonic rumbles (recorded below the earth, yes) were added to the mix for one portion, and a human dressed as a mushroom for another. Outside of each musical offering the pacing and flow struggled a bit, and I found myself disappointed that only two kinds of mushrooms had been employed. The gorgeous altar setup Nayar played atop was just for show — but why not incorporate far more of the flora? The hairy balls in particular had caught my eye, even from afar, and made me long to hear that milkweed warble. Given the differences offered between branch and bloom, mushroom to mushroom, it seemed like a true missed opportunity, imho. I would have loved to learn what the amaranth, or hydrangeas, or fennel blossoms filling out the display had to say.
That said, fear not about waste: when asked what happens to the mushrooms when their musical careers have ended? They’re eaten, of course, their substrates reused several times, and then replanted amongst the trees to bear future fungal fruits. Mushroom church reveres its namesake: no mycelium were harmed here, and a nondenominational church soundbath is something that might just benefit us all. No trips required.
Listen to Modern Biology’s recordings here.
