Surely, I can’t be the only one who nearly choked on my oyster on New Year’s Eve, when King Frederik X delivered his first New Year’s speech. What a modern take on the old tradition! Instead of sitting solemnly at a desk, he calmly walked into the room – a room demanding attention, where a futuristic mural stole the show. I could barely focus on the speech itself, distracted by the psychedelic imagery behind him: a visual nod to Yellow Submarine by The Beatles. Was this a sign of a rock star ascending the throne?
Wishful thinking, as it turned out. The speech turned into a parade of predictable platitudes. The same can be said about the King’s new Honour March, composed by David M. A. P. Palmquist, former conductor of the Royal Danish Life Guards Music Corps. A traditional and sluggish piece that plays it entirely by the book.
Since H.C. Lumbye gifted a march to Frederik VII in 1861, it has been a tradition for members of the royal family to be granted personal marches. Take the lively and self-ironic Parade March for Queen Margrethe, which includes quotes from both »I Danmark er jeg født« and »Daisy Bell«. Or Crown Prince Frederik’s brisk and quirky Honour March in 6/8 time – written by Fuzzy for the now-King’s 30th birthday – tipping its hat to Carl Nielsen’s »Som en rejselysten flåde«.
But where is the personal character in Palmquist’s march? The composer approaches the task far too conceptually, attempting to give the piece a musical signature with a kind of rebus at the beginning. The first note is an F, followed by one ten steps higher – thus spelling »Frederik the 10th« in musical code. The many references to other military music are just as internal. What’s missing is something that breaks with protocol – just like King Frederik himself has done in his most memorable and beloved moments. In the end, it sounds like a march that has forgotten who it was written for.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek. Proofreading: Seb Doubinsky
»What is music to me? Here’s a quote from Nietzsche: ‘The people dancing all seemed crazy to the people who couldn’t hear the music.’«
Salim Washington is a saxophonist, multi-instrumentalist, composer, academic, and activist from Detroit who has been highly active on the American jazz scene since the 1970s, and also in South Africa, where he became a central figure. The spirit of John Coltrane hovers over his music, which carries both spiritual and social dimensions.
»Music for us is the perfect language that we love to speak. A language where it is the individual's feelings and imagination that determine what is right and wrong. Everyone can speak the language. You don't have to be able to write or understand, but just listen. Some music requires that you listen carefully and maybe hear it several times. A bit like when you talk to someone from Norway or Sweden, you also have to listen a little extra.«
DØGNKIOSK is a Danish punk rock band with roots in Silkeborg. The band consists of bassist and singer Anders Ejner, who has been active on the Danish underground scene for several decades. Musically, DØGNKIOSK moves in a field between classic Danish punk and alternative rock. In the spring of 2026, the band will release their second album, Tæt på kanten.
It is difficult to comprehend that Andreas Engström is no longer with us. Just a couple of months ago, he wrote – as he had done so many times before – with an ambitious proposal: he wanted to review a box set of twenty releases by Dror Feiler. In the same message, he mentioned plans to come to Aarhus for the recently concluded Spor Festival.
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re deep underground – indeed, all the way to France. This EP is the latest conceptual release from French electronic producer Romain Martin, who works under the name RÖM in the borderland between ambient and techno. Whispering Dub unfolds across five tracks, drawing heavily on dub while telling a story about an escape from a fictional hotel. Escomel’s background in African percussion studies and his fondness for analog gear surface in the mysterious sonic textures and the stark contrast between arranged percussion and dubbed-out echoes, underscoring the concept’s tension between mysticism and reality.
»Oilbird« opens in dystopian ambient before sliding into the rhythmic »Eastern Temple«, which constantly shifts between filtered synths, frantic percussion, and sudden breakbeats. Things cohere more fully on the title track, which blends minimal techno into the mix and stands out by maintaining a steady pulse, while echo-laden drums cast an unsettling atmosphere within the dance framework. On the closing »Hotel Amnesia«, the narrator awakens again in a collage of the record’s electronic tendencies, questioning their own existence in the album’s only use of vocals.
Whispering Dub isn’t wildly groundbreaking or bizarre enough to push the senses into extreme reactions. But as a well-produced and effective piece of electronic music, it invites the listener into a compelling game of whispers.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
The stage was set for a special experience on Wednesday evening at KU.BE on Frederiksberg. In the borderland between tradition and joyful madness stood birthday celebrant Kasper Tranberg, blowing his trumpet. What emerged was an insistent blend of jazz and avant-garde, laced with understated humor and delivered by a virtuoso with a calm, unmistakably Danish presence. With a wry sense of ease, he made even the most complex passages surprisingly accessible.
Tranberg presented excerpts from 12 Melodic Illusions for Solo Improviser and Melodic Illusions for Sextet with both devotion and a glint in his eye. He demonstrated how the trumpet can stand alone while still conveying abstract emotional states. Sharp trills dissolved into growling undertones, merging with the resonance of the room. At times, he employed backing tracks, creating duets with himself.
The evening’s main attraction was the trio Mesmer – Emil Jensen, Victor Dybbroe, and Anders Filipsen – who performed works from their new piece Terrain Vague II, developed through several residencies in Northern Jutland. The three compositions moved within a field of electroacoustics, contemporary music, and analogue improvisation, carrying a distinctly cinematic and nature-infused sensibility. The sonic plunges into the Limfjord were particularly striking: Dybbroe’s metal percussion and Filipsen’s lapping synth textures carved out a dark, magnetic space. In the piece inspired by Aalborg Harbour, Jensen’s trumpet cut through with long, mist-laden tones, like signals drifting in from distant ships. The result was both enchanting and, at times, deeply inspiring. It was a concert that, for now, refuses to loosen its grip on me.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
