in briefrelease

Cello Among Cows and a Love of Music

Katrine Philp: »A Classical Life«

A farm near Rødvig on the Stevns peninsula, home to both pigs and cows, also houses an elite music school for cellists, the Scandinavian Cello School. The school was founded by the British cellist and professor Jacob Shaw, who is also a farmer and lives here with his family. It is a place where the young people in residence are expected to take part in the work on the farm as in a collective, when they are not working on their musical projects.

According to Shaw, this is very much an innovation. In one of the many scenes featuring the thoughtful, idealistic and selfless mentor, he remarks that the classical music world places great emphasis on competition and perhaps on musical development, but only rarely concerns itself with something as essential as well-being.

It is fascinating to follow not only the teaching and competitions on Stevns and elsewhere, but also to listen to the young musicians’ accounts of playing, alongside the many uncommented sequences in which large amounts of music – especially from the classical cello repertoire – are performed. Among them is an outdoor scene where the musicians have attracted a group of cows, who appear to be listening when they are not mooing.

This is a film about self-realisation through discipline, but also about discipline through self-realisation. The film continually circles around the human effort to become better at something, and it does so in a way that consistently places the participants’ love of music at the centre. This also applies to Shaw himself, whose previous serious illness, briefly referred to, forms a kind of counterpoint to the lightness that otherwise characterises the film.

Katrine Philp’s documentary A Classical Life is therefore warmly recommended – not only to parents of musically inclined children, but to anyone interested in music. Classical music? No. Music.

CPH:DOX, 14, 17 and 21 March

in briefrelease

16.10

A Microphone In the Nervous System

IKI: »BODY«

IKI, 17.10

Therese Wiwe Vilmar

It sounds as if someone has placed a microphone directly inside the nervous system’s electrical impulses. The Nordic electroacoustic vocal ensemble IKI explores the boundaries between body and technology on their fifth, self-produced album BODY, where the five singers’ bodies merge into one large, organic rhythm box.

The tracks change form as the body breathes, dances, awakens, runs, wanders – in the imperative mood. The harmonically unison ripple of »Float« is countered by flickering modem-like sounds in »Regenerate«. Everything is framed by the recurring theme »Circuit«, which ultimately gathers the fragments into a single linguistic statement: »Are you gone when your body is not breathing?«

BODY demands concentration. IKI claims that all sounds on the album are created with the voice – a counterpoint to the electrically manipulated, a kind of reversed version of synthesizer sounds that imitate the human voice. It’s an incomprehensible mystery one keeps listening for: how can the voice produce the accordion-like sound on »Breath«, panned all the way to the left and slowly taking over the entire soundscape? Of course, it can’t do so on its own. The recording itself is an electronic mediation. The technological tools act as a microscope for vocal expression. It’s powerful because it asks about the transitions between human and machine, between life and afterlife. Yet the premise holds a paradox that never fully resolves.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

playlist

10.10

Miy name is Bjarke Niemann – would you like to see my playlist?

Bjarke Niemann. © Frederik Barasinski

»Music is everything that can only be described far more poorly with words.«

Bjarke Niemann is the lead singer, songwriter, and producer of the Danish band Spleen United. The group broke through with Godspeed Into The Mainstream in 2005 and has performed at, among other places, Roskilde Festival and the Copenhagen Opera House. Bjarke Niemann has also composed and developed music for TV and video games – including the international game series Hitman – and has produced albums with artists such as Soleima, Statisk, Afskum, and Hugorm.

playlist

06.10

My name is Motis Necrojam – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music is the pursuit of original failure...«

Motis Necrojam is the singer and collager with the Noseflutes and The Clicking Stick, a pair of combos from the old English Birmingham times, adorned with new-times dedication to derailment, approved by Sir John Peel, via their four live sessions for his mighty BBC Radio programme, occasional treaders of the boards, musicians with alias obsessions. One thing Necrojam has is a digit on the diminishing pulse.

playlist

06.10

Mit navn er Katrine Muff – vil du se min playliste?

»Music, to me, is the key to – and an extension of – my vocabulary. If I struggle to put ‘spoken words’ to something inside, or if I need release in the form of a proper cry, the right song can put me in the right gear immediately. It can be the lyrics, the melody, or both that give direct access to my emotions, where the brain can simply be put into neutral and carried away.«

Katrine Muff, born in 1985, is a composer and singer. She has set music to texts by, among others, Stine Pilgaard and Suzanne Brøgger, and in 2021 she received the Folk Song Prize (Den Folkelige Sangs Pris). Together with Lone Hørslev, she is currently releasing the album Jeg ønsker mig and working as a songwriter on the theatre concert STOLT (Folketeateret).

in brieflive

04.10

Soap Horse Kept a Tight Rein – Maybe Too Tight

Soap Horse + K Bech

Marta Bo

K Bech – known from the rock band Shiny Darkly – opened Saturday night’s concert at Alice with a raw, unpolished melancholy. A sense of Copenhagen-style urban gloom was palpable, yet the slightly nervous set never really took off. Despite a promising setup of violin, guitar, and electronic tracks, the sensitive lyrics remained more hints than breakthroughs.

Soap Horse then took the stage and truly ignited the evening with an authentic chicken-picking riff. The country-rooted guitar technique was just one example of the musical abundance running through the band, which has just released its debut EP Tooth Inside a Tooth.

Nothing seemed accidental. From the rust-red gothic tapestry to the carefully chosen instrumentation – violin, saxophone, and pedal steel alongside guitar, bass, and drums – every detail added to a deliberate aesthetic. The sound was dark and alluring, in sharp contrast to frontman Hans Gustav Björklund Moulvad’s shock of white hair and intense stage presence.

The songs were crafted with a refined sense of balance. Simple, repetitive motifs were passed between the instruments, and when massive noise walls and shimmering colors broke through, the already blurred borders of indie rock stretched even further. Moulvad commanded the whole with ease, moving charismatically between the music’s many layers. And yet, I found myself wishing Soap Horse would let go completely. The weightless intermezzos – where the unusual lineup could have truly unfolded – were too often pulled back by a steady drumbeat, returning the music to a safe ground. Soap Horse displayed remarkable control and a firm grasp of both their sonic universe and their audience. Perhaps all that’s left is to prove they dare to loosen their grip.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek