Ash in the Ear
There was something liberating about watching 83-year-old Peter Laugesen step onto the stage at Phono with a new band and not a trace of nostalgia. There was no hint of a poetic lap of honour. But plenty of noise. The trio Farvel – Halfdan Magnus Stefansson (guitar), Gustav M.K. Lauridsen (bass) and Jens Højbøge Mosegaard (drums) – did not play politely around the poet. They laid down a massive carpet of stoner rock and free improvisation beneath him, as if the words had to be wrenched free from gravel and distortion. At first the music moved heavy and viscous. For a long time. Then it accelerated. And Laugesen accelerated with it.
He sat on a chair in the corner, leafing through his books, speaking of dawn, of children at play before they disappear, of Finnegans Wake, Winnie-the-Pooh and an irate »then thaw, for fuck’s sake.« The words did not fall in rhythm – they landed like bolts on a workshop floor. Laugesen’s baritone is still as coarse as steel wire; the Brabrand accent refuses to be polished. He played the harmonica. It sounded more than off-kilter – a twisted blues.
Farvel emerged from a jazz ambition that dissolved and found another path in the abrasive aesthetics of 1990s noise rock. It suits Laugesen. The three young musicians did not play behind him, but with him, across generations, on equal footing. This was no solemn celebration of an ageing poet. It was a workplace filled with friction. At Phono, Laugesen sang – yes, sang – the prose of life across a wall of sound. His voice cut in between the rumbling bass and the grit of the snare drum. He spoke of »ash in the ear«. You left carrying precisely that: a tremor in your hearing. When language meets resistance, it can still strike sparks.
Phono. 12.02
»For us, music is a lifelong fascination – something you can never fully get to the bottom of. You can study the mathematics, the rules, and the logic. But music also contains an element of magic – that aspect which creates an emotional resonance between the creator and the listener, transcending place, time, and language.«
Inspired by the playful, off-kilter alternative rock of the 90s, Inventory has forged a distinct sound comprising equal parts pop hooks, dissonant tension, and jazzy textures. It is guitar-driven music that embraces the unexpected, the quirky, and the soothing – navigating the space between the immediate and the challenging. Inventory is set to release their debut album, People Pyramids, in early 2027.
A Recipe for Ecstasy and Despair
If a meal is good, it’s worth making twice, right? That’s the approach taken by Krzysztof Wołek on his latest album Cookbook for the Modern Boygirl, where the song cycle is interpreted twice. The ingredients are straightforward: one girl (Agata Zubel), one boy (Chad Sloan), and a variety of electronic elements carefully assembled not simply to complement but also contradict each other. As for the recipe, that comes from poet Bunny Morris, in the form of seven texts exploring the body as a site of vulnerability and conflict.
Desire versus repulsion is the central tension running through the song cycle. Wołek accentuates this by atomising the vocal part, which doesn’t so much sing as gasp and stammer, its never-ending contortions enclosed in an atmosphere that pressurises the voice as much as it allows it to radiate.
Eruptions of sharp glitch fragments sound as both celebratory fireworks and shards cutting into flesh, playing into the songs’ continual blurring of food allusions with animalistic reflections on the body’s limbs, processes, sensations and fluids. As if to counter the challenges, the voice often resorts to overelaborate ornamentation, elsewhere receding into hissing whispers as if to hide from them.
The two interpretations are strikingly individual, Zubel leaning into frenetic histrionics, like an unhinged bird, Sloan into impassioned lyrical agonism. Though seemingly emanating from parallel universes, both versions unite in the impossibility of knowing what’s desperation or ecstasy, epitomising the fundamental instability of identity at the core of these dazzlingly visceral songs.
»For me, music is where all my books begin. I hear a track, visualize a scene unfolding in my mind, and then I simply write the rest of the book around it. More or less. My imagination takes root in music. This playlist serves as the mental soundtrack to the work I am currently finishing.«
Dennis Nørmark is an anthropologist, an internationally bestselling author, and a professional speaker. While known for his books on working life, he achieved his breakthrough as a fiction writer with the thriller Harare, which won the award for Best Danish Crime Novel in 2025, as well as the Glass Key Award for Best Nordic Crime Novel in 2026. He lives north of Copenhagen and is a father of five.