The term Dadaism must be used with caution – it easily risks becoming a cliché and trampling disrespectfully on its origins. Nevertheless, it’s hard to avoid Dada when listening to The Swamp, created by Norwegian experimental composers Maja Ratkje, Torstein Slåen, and Sigurd Ytre-Arne. The album is a 40-minute chaotic mirror of our times, shaped by merciless improvisation, noise drones, and Ratkje’s absurd vocalizations.
The music is raw, rancid, and deliberately un-beautiful – a constant stream of manipulated field recordings, reminiscent of a horror film foley studio. Bells, metallic clanks, white noise, and industrial sounds are warped together, driven by a syncopated, menacing rhythm and an underlying fuzz drone. Most fascinating is Ratkje’s voice, which appears as a riddle: is she singing in Celtic, Norwegian, or pure gibberish? The latter seems most likely and evokes the Dada poetry of Kurt Schwitters, particularly his 1932 Ursonate. At the same time, her vocal techniques dig deep into Nordic soil – conjuring the spirit of völva chants and Viking songs.
The combination of controlled noise and purposeful chaos elevates much of the album, with the opening track and the completely unhinged »Discomanic« standing out. The former is as close as the trio gets to something conventional; the latter borders on pure sound art. Only the two slower pieces – the seven-minute-long »Oligarchification« and »Lullaby for Trembling Hearts« – tend to drag a bit. Otherwise, the group manages to keep the material focused, sharp, and intensely trippy. It’s impressive how effectively it all works, even as the expression remains so relentless and challenging.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»I like when it's impossible to tell at first if something is black or white, or country or blues, or whatever.«
Bill Frisell’s career as a guitarist and composer has spanned more than 40 years and many celebrated recordings. From Aaron Copeland and Charles Ives to Bob Dylan and Madonna. Born in Baltimore, Bill Frisell played clarinet throughout his childhood in Denver, Colorado. His interest in guitar began with his exposure to pop music on the radio.
»Music has been a healing balm for me.«
John William Grant is an American singer, musician, and songwriter holding both American and Icelandic citizenship. He first came to prominence as a co-founder, lead vocalist, pianist, and primary songwriter of the alternative rock band The Czars. After releasing six albums between 1994 and 2006, the band disbanded, and Grant withdrew from music for four years before embarking on a solo career.
He returned in April 2010 with a critically acclaimed debut album recorded in collaboration with Midlake. Queen of Denmark was named Album of the Year 2010 by Mojo magazine and was also selected as one of the ten best albums of 2010 by The Guardian’s music critics and writers.
»In his music, composer Allan Gravgaard Madsen tries to create a better version of himself.«
Allan Gravgaard Madsen is a Danish composer based in Copenhagen. His most recent works include Träume nicht and Nachtmusik. He tries to create a better version of himself in his music – where his personality tends to be restless, chatty and has an active inner life, his music is controlled, simple and merciless in its expression. He is the recipient of the Carl Nielsen & Anne Marie Carl-Nielsens Hæderspris 2022.
The Finnish multimedia artist Jan Anderzén has, with the album Hoshi, released under the solo moniker Tomutonttu, created a true little star. Not only because »hoshi« literally means »star« in Japanese, but above all due to the music itself. There is something cosmic, yet infinitely minute, about the sonic worlds Anderzén conjures—like a galaxy reflected in a puddle, or a space journey in a rocket carved from a hollow tree trunk. Synths emit busy, warm blips and bloops, while ultra-short vocal and instrumental samples create a recognizable blur. At once artificial and organic – soft, rounded, jagged, crackling.
Anderzén approaches sound with a playfulness I simply adore. His music is strange in an incredibly comforting way. It places me in a kind of colorful, trance-like state, only interrupted when, several times over the course of the album, I find myself smiling in delight at a particularly great sound. The synths on »Katse osuu sähköön!« The choral samples on »Kesä oli äkkiä ohi!« Milo Linnovaara’s flute on »Malta lausua ‘AH’!« And many more. Hoshi is an album packed with microscopic moments that together form a frayed, exploding, radiant, idiosyncratic whole—a stellar moment of just under 38 minutes.
