photo of Neko Case by Ebru Yildiz
Credit: Ebru Yildiz

Let’s stop calling Neko Case the grande dame of Americana already. At this point, it’s plain that she’s just one of the best voices and most visionary and literary songwriters of her generation, full stop. And now, the legend returns to Orlando riding the wind of her first album since 2018, Neon Gray Midnight Green, which has had the critical sphere abuzz in glowing unanimity for its dizzying sonic adventurism. Bask, marvel, genuflect, whatever — just go to this unmissable engagement. Orlando Weekly spoke to Neko Case last week and found an unexpectedly fierce Florida stan.

How are these shows going so far, and are there any moments of audience connection or maybe just getting sort of lost in the music? 

There’s a lot of moments of getting lost in music during the shows, and those are always very nice. It means that you trust the audience, and audiences have been utterly kind and supportive, and … it’s been a hard few weeks. But, you know, I’m hanging in there.

You’re a well-traveled performer, but did the notion of touring in the U.S. in early 2026 give you any pause?

The problem with touring right now is, you know, that me and every other woman I know are really upset in our bodies and in our minds since Renee Good was shot, and we’re not OK. People need to check in with all the female-identifying people out there, and trans men too. It’s terrifying and we’re just not OK, and to be up in front of people every night — I’m not afraid of the world. I’m afraid of my own anxiety. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up, or I’ll forget something or that I am noticeably shaken. 

Do you see the role of a touring musician changing in terms of going beyond entertainment to maybe providing a moment of, maybe, community?

I’ve been really focused on community. I think people feel very helpless right now. And I just, I try to remind people every night how capable and smart and powerful they are, and that they are the answer to all this horrible stuff happening, even though there are forces doing their best to make the everyday person feel absolutely useless. It’s not true.

You’ve expanded your tour at a time when it’s challenging to get people out. 

I’m not a band that sells out everything, so it’s hard to tell. But I feel that the emotional connection with the audience has been way more intense and way stronger, and it feels like something it’s important to do — not that I’m an important person — just to provide a place where people come together. And a local venue is often one of the only things in a neighborhood that isn’t a chain, like it’s one of the places that is authentically of the community that lives there. So it’s a great honor that they come together there to see us play. I really want to honor that, and make people feel rejuvenated or recharged, or any small piece of happiness. 

“People in America kind of shit on Florida, and it’s not cool. There are great people in Florida.”

Neko Case

Would you talk a little bit about the writing and recording of Neon Grey Midnight Green? You produced it yourself and you worked with an orchestra extensively. 

I really wanted to own [producing] this time more, because when I think about producers, I think about a large group of men. And even though I’m a producer, I forget that there are women and nonbinary people out there who are producers. So I wanted to remind myself, as well as representing, and it’s just the greatest job that there is. I want young women and female-identifying people to really feel like there’s a place for them in that world, because it’s creative thinking. It’s not penis-having, it’s problem-solving, creative thinking, rabbit-hole diving, gear nerdery — there’s so much in it. 

With the Plainsong Chamber Orchestra, my friend Tom Hagerman wrote the arrangements for the songs and he plays in the Orchestra as well. I went out to Colorado, where there’s a really great studio that can accommodate an orchestra-sized group of people. I went there basically to observe and to hang. I didn’t play anything; I just watched, and it was so incredible. I’ve never witnessed anything so moving, as far as in my own music-making. It was really the closest a person can get to hearing their own music like an outsider. It was really terrifying and beautiful and validating and exciting. I don’t think I’ll ever experience that again. I cried through the whole thing — the crying lady at the studio.

You’ve been working on a musical version of Thelma & Louise for a number of years now?

I’m gonna be in London for the summer, and it’s going to open in September at a theater called the Young Vic in London for its first shows that are open to the public. So there’s a lot of work to be done still.

Ten years of work seems so daunting, like are any of us still going to be alive?

Yeah, it’s not unusual for Broadway, I’m told, but it seems unusual for anything to me. I was told it would take probably anywhere from seven to 12 years, and I was like, “OK, I’ll try it.” That’s because Callie Khouri — who wrote Thelma & Louise and won the Oscar for it — asked me.  So I said yes. I mean, if it had been anything else, I would not have taken the job because I don’t know anything about Broadway. I was very clear with them. I was like, “Are you sure you want me? I can’t even read music. You gotta make sure that’s OK.” And everybody was OK with it.

The last time you played in Orlando was 2023. Do you have any particular memories from that Florida run?

I remember just feeling like, “Why don’t we go to Florida more?” Because people come out to the shows and they’re great. People in America kind of shit on Florida, and it’s not cool. There are great people in Florida. I remember living in Arizona, and everybody shit on Arizona. And I was like, “What are you talking about? There’s incredible people everywhere.” Don’t let a few spoiled apples make some blanket statement about your own people. It’s wrong. And you know, people were always so excited, like, “God, thanks for coming to Florida.” I love playing Florida and always will.

Neko Case with Des Demonas: 8 p.m. Friday, Jan. 30, Plaza Live, 425 N. Bumby Ave., plazaliveorlando.org, $50.70-$62.72.

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This article appears in Jan. 28-Feb. 3, 2026.

Music columnist.