in briefrelease

Inside the Belly of an Alien Sonic Organism

Ideologic Organ / La Becque Editions, 27.03

Two of contemporary music’s most uncompromising material thinkers meet on Music for Intersecting Planes: the American organist Kali Malone and the French cellist Leila Bordreuil. Malone works with oversaturated blocks of sound and sonic mass as a sustained pressure, while Bordreuil seeks friction – her cello a recalcitrant organism that creaks and resists.

What they share is an ascetic attention to the specificity of their instruments. The organ and the cello are pushed to their outer limits, where recognizability dissolves and overtones emerge like hidden entities.

The title pieces, »Intersecting Planes I» and »II«, unfold as undulating ruptures of sound: animalistic, almost elephantine cries that surge forward and recede again. Only rarely can the sound be identified as organ or cello. (»Pilots in the Night« comes closest to a familiar balance between the organ’s gravity and the cello’s resistance.) Otherwise, the music moves within a field between the metallic and the electronic, as if the sound originates neither from strings nor pipes.

It is not mass that is being explored here, but rather a kind of hollowness: an airiness that is not light, but permeated by an indeterminate resonance – something ancient, almost ceremonial. The album holds something far more porous and open than Malone and Bordreuil’s earlier works. The sound appears as a concave form, bending inward, like an absence of material. The sonic landscape carries its own dissolution within it as an inherent delay – as if the music exists, first and foremost, as the erosion of something one thought one heard.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

playlist

14.02

My name is Bobo Moreno – would you like to see my playlist?

Bobo Moreno. © Thomas Roger Henrichsen

»Music is an element for me, along with earth, wind, fire and water. Music is a nutrient that is part of my personal food pyramid, along with cheese, eggs and tomatoes. Music is a relationship in my life that is just as important as the people I have around me. Music is like an extra organ through which I perceive the world.«

Growing up surrounded by his parents’ eclectic record collection, Bobo Moreno developed a love for music across genres. Named after his stepfather, jazz and rock bassist Bo Stief, Bobo started out on the electric bass before, at the age of 22, finding his true instrument – his voice. Self-taught, he developed his craft through countless live performances and garnered recognition for his expressive voice and stylistic range. His national breakthrough came with the pop duo Peaches & Bobo in 1993. After decades of performing, at the age of 60, Bobo now releases Missing Pieces – his deeply personal debut album, reflecting a life of musical exploration and self-discovery, while marking a new chapter in a lifelong musical journey.

playlist

14.02

My name is Astrid Engberg – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music to me is like water to plants. And a space to connect us, to ourselves, others and the world.«

Astrid Engberg is a contemporary artist with roots in the past, blending electronic-organic jazz, soul and percussive minimalism. Her sound combines heavy, minimal productions with personal storytelling and a spiritual edge, carried by a voice that balances sensitivity and strength. Since releasing her debut album Tulpa in 2020, highlighted by Bandcamp as one of the summer’s best releases, she has received the Steppeulven award as Producer of the Year 2021 and won Vocal Jazz Release of the Year at Danish Music Awards Jazz, alongside a nomination for Experimental Album of the Year.

Engberg has performed live and as a DJ at major Danish festivals and venues, including SPOT, Heartland, Roskilde Festival, DR Koncerthuset and SMK – Statens Museum for Kunst.

in brieflive

13.02

Ash in the Ear

Farvel & Peter Laugesen

Phono. 12.02

Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

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

in briefrelease

11.02

Echoes from the Olive Trees

Mai Mai Mai: »Karakoz«

Maple Death Records, 06.02

Martin Funder

Grief is hereditary. It is collective and more than mere streams of tears – as countless generations of oppressed Palestinians can attest. On the album Karakoz, the Rome-based musician Mai Mai Mai creates a resonance of this collective sorrow and attempts to grasp the desperate hope of the Palestinian people. Not through political slogans, but through dark spiritualism and synthesizers.

Karakoz is an ancient form of shadow theatre with roots in the Ottoman Empire, and the album title serves as an omen of the musical pulse that sets in from the opening track, »Grief«. Here the music sounds like an archaic folk hymn: slow, repetitive percussion creates a tear-soaked minimalism, and the piece feels like a ceremony passed down through generations. With synthesizers slowly coiling around Maya Al Khaldi’s yearning vocals, »Grief« becomes a cultural bridge between forgotten traditions and the painfully current tragedy that today envelops Palestine in an all-consuming darkness.

Across the seven tracks, one hears trauma like a wind murmuring through the streets and among the olive trees. This may be because the album was created in collaboration with local artists and includes archival material from The Palestinian Sound Archive – an archive of decades of forgotten music, poetry, and album covers. Karakoz is a reinterpretation of Middle Eastern spiritualism and forgotten music. It is a testament to grief as lived experience, and as an archival bulwark, Karakoz thus takes part in the struggle for a free Palestine.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

playlist

07.02

My name is Masaya Ozaki – would you like to see my playlist?

»For me, music is a secret safe place. It is a refuge from society, from who you're expected to be, and from the idea of belonging. It is a space where you're free from conflict and dualistic ways of thinking. It is a place to feel the world without needing to understand it.«

Masaya Ozaki is a composer born in Niigata, Japan. His work is deeply influenced by the transient nature of space and the subtleties of sound within physical environments. Ozaki views sound not just as a medium, but as a form deeply intertwined with the spaces it inhabits, something that he explores extensively in site-specific projects like Echoes, which involved live performances inside a lighthouse.

Ozaki’s latest album, Mizukara (2024), is a reflection of his personal and artistic journey, primarily shaped by his experiences in Iceland. The album embraces minimalism and introspection, incorporating field recordings, sparse instrumentals, and the textures of the Icelandic landscape to explore the fluid relationship between self and environment. In recent interviews, he emphasized his shift from purely sound-based compositions to ones that deeply consider the environment and space. His relocation to Iceland has profoundly influenced his work, encouraging him to further merge the boundaries between music, nature, and architecture. He is also a member of the Reykjavík-based emo anime doom metal band MC Myasnoi.