In brieflive

Indigo over Mahler

Anthony Sahyoun, Nour Darwish, Larissa Sansour, Søren Lind: »As If No Misfortune Had Occurred In The Night«

One of my most powerful art experiences of 2025 was British-Palestinian video artist Larissa Sansour’s intense work As If No Misfortune Had Occurred In The Night at Kunsthal Charlottenborg. The piece forms the basis of Thursday’s so-called »opera performance«, in which Palestinian soprano Nour Darwish performs in dialogue with Sansour’s visuals.

When Darwish steps onto the stage, it is before a vast screen where black-and-white scenes from an abandoned chapel establish a solemn atmosphere. It feels as though the entire hall is holding its breath as she begins to sing – tentatively, mournfully at first, then with spine-tingling force.

The composition draws on Kindertotenlieder (1905), in which Gustav Mahler sets to music Friedrich Rückert’s poems on the loss of two daughters. Composer Anthony Sahyoun allows Mahler’s music to merge with the Palestinian folk song »Al Ouf Mash’al«, a lament for a man who fell while serving in the Ottoman army during the First World War. Over time, the song has expanded into an oral account of Palestinian suffering. In its encounter with Mahler, it becomes a lament for centuries of grief – addressed to European ears that, through the colonisation of the region, bear part of the responsibility. Quite simply, it is a very good idea. At first, Darwish alternates between the two musical works, but gradually they fuse into a single narrative of sorrow, loss, and inherited trauma. She briefly leaves the stage, giving way to a filmed sequence in which she descends into a basin and is enveloped by indigo-blue water. In Palestinian tradition, indigo is the colour of mourning, because once it has stained skin and fabric, it cannot be washed away. It must be worn away – just as grief can leave us flayed.

Darwish returns in an indigo dress. At the climax, she falls to her knees as the screen behind her turns black, and I realise I have barely breathed for several minutes. The composition was created in 2022 – before the current war in Gaza – but on this evening, with her immense voice and intense presence, she adds yet another verse to the endless song. At times, art can feel brutally prophetic.

Takkelloftet, The Opera, 12.02

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?

Katrine Muff. © Ditte Capion

»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

Soap Horse. © Malthe Folke Ivarsson

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

In brieflive

02.10

A One-Way Ticket To Illiyeen, Please!

Illiyeen x Thicket

Den Frie Udstillingsbygning, 25.09

Louise Steiwer

Illiyeen is visual artist Eliyah Mesayer’s fictional state for the stateless, a group to which the artist herself belonged until just a few years ago. Since 2019, she has continuously added national symbols in Illiyeen’s characteristic black color, and today the state has its own postal service, national anthem, uniform, navy – and a steadily expanding list of collaborators.

It’s a clever concept, at once tightly defined and completely open. Because the state is nomadic and collective, it can arise anywhere and include a wider circle of like-minded artists, such as Angel Wei from Haloplus+ and the poet Zahna Siham Benamour. It is a state of mind.

At Den Frie, it was the drum duo Thicket – Adam »CCsquele« Nielsen and Dan Kjær Nielsen – who performed from opposite sides of a split drum kit. Through an improvised drum solo so energetic that drumsticks flew through the air, they explored the shared rhythm that emerged, broke apart, and shifted character along the way. A fitting symbol of Illiyeen’s community: a constant negotiation and coordination of tempo and movement.

Along the way, the toms gave way to a recorded sound piece, a spherical electronic composition with subdued spoken word woven into the soundscape. The work originated from an earlier installation but was extended for the occasion, with added acoustic elements recorded by Cæcilie Trier and Xenia Xamanek. It carried a mournful, sensitive vibe that stood in sharp contrast to the thundering intensity of the drums. Mesayer’s poetic, black-clad universe and Thicket’s simultaneously tight and improvisational energy bursts blended perfectly into a community one longed to be part of.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielzcarek