in briefrelease

Squarepusher in a Straitjacket Among Strings

Squarepusher: »Kammerkonzert«

With Kammerkonzert, British electronic composer Tom Jenkinson, better known as Squarepusher, places himself within the braindance tradition of the 1990s and 2000s, when electronic artists flirted with classical music – from Aphex Twin’s collaborations with Philip Glass to Venetian Snares’ Rossz Csillag Alatt Született, where baroque patterns were folded into mechanical rhythms and the melancholy of strings torn apart by breakbeats.

Squarepusher is no stranger to the acoustic: his hyperactive bass guitar – often sounding as if in flight from its own virtuosity – has been central to his music since Music Is Rotted One Note (1998). Here, too, it takes a leading role. On »K2 Central«, a looped, faintly anxious bass figure drives the music forward while strings swell in and shift its harmonic function. The effect is not without merit, but the execution is strikingly conventional. The MIDI-generated strings move in neat chord blocks with an almost overly reverent sense of decorum. The classical tradition is not challenged but merely cited, and the arrangements are so polished that the orchestra’s presence feels barely justified.

The compositions also hover awkwardly between the slick functionality of elevator jazz and something exaggerated, almost circus-like, as if unable to decide whether they want to be serious or ironic – and end up being neither. »K4 Fairlands« stands out by pairing string quartet with the busy breakbeats that are Squarepusher’s trademark. Here, a friction emerges between the rigid and the fluid that briefly opens the album up, suggesting how two otherwise incompatible systems might coexist.

Overall, Kammerkonzert comes across as artistically cautious, marked by a peculiar restraint. What remains is the sense of something only half realised. One wishes Squarepusher had either ventured further into the orchestral realm or trusted more in what he actually excels at, giving the electronics freer rein. Preferably both.

in brieflive

04.07.2024

Shouldn’t Selvhenter be playing the Orange Stage next year?”

RF 2024: Selvhenter

Roskilde Festival, Avalon, 03.07

Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

It is not the first time Selvhenter have shown Roskilde how a saxophone can scream. Even the most avant-garde-ready listeners were left gasping for air. It was hard not to let your own lungs empathise with the long passages and unruly energy that the experimental Copenhagen quartet excelled in, wielding an instrumentarium consisting of two drum kits, synth, trombone, saxophone and assorted extras.

And the more the band – positioned in the centre of the Avalon tent, surrounded by the audience – wove their collective patchwork carpet, the more the individual character of the instruments was erased. Selvhenter could just as well have been playing entirely different instruments. You could see Sonja LaBianca standing there, forcing tones out of a wind instrument, yet it sounded more like a harp from outer space. It was astonishing how her saxophone fanfares resembled distress signals beamed into the cosmos. Meanwhile, the drums drove very grounded rhythms: Steve Reich-like pulses colliding with freer passages.

Selvhenter inflated the tent with full-fat punked and jazzy noise. Without pauses (not even when a snare drum went dead and had to be replaced mid-set) and without water for the crowd. Being so close to the musicians was a plus; on their small central stage they looked like giants in a battle arena. This was new music that was deeply physical. For about an hour we breathed together (and perhaps even sweated?) in sync. And it is profoundly good to do something together at a festival.

Selvhenter on the Orange Stage next year. Come on!

playlist

12.06.2024

My name is Jussi Parikka – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music involves a mix of noise, of existing or fabricated instruments, of alternative worlds that the sounds and voices assemble. Some are gentle, some less so. We shift gears with music, it shifts intensity, we shift with it. I listen when I can.«

Jussi Parikka is a Finnish cultural historian and writer who works at Aarhus University as professor of Digital Aesthetics and Culture. After some 15 years in the UK, he continues in Denmark his work on how ecology, digital culture, art and design, and philosophy intersect. He has written on visual culture and history and archaeology of media, including the recent books Operational Images (2023) and Living Surfaces: Images, Plants, and Environments of Media (2024) which is co-authored with the Madrid-based artist Abelardo Gil-Fournier. Besides his writing and work as educator, he has been active as a curator including the recent show Climate Engines at Laboral, in Gijon (Spain) that was co-curated with Daphne Dragona as well as his involvement in the curatorial team of Helsinki Biennial 2023.

in briefrelease

23.04.2024

What a Dial Tone Tells Us About Life

Beachers: »Off the Hook«

Ineffectual Suns, 15.03

Sune Anderberg

Crazy about phones? Then listen up. For British artist Beachers spent a day in his London office, and with his smartphone, recorded the sound of a landline waiting for you to dial a number after lifting the receiver. An innocent, yet somewhat insistent sound: Use me, beep-beep-beep-boop, now!

He cut up the recording, panned it around, shifted the pitch here and there, and dabbed it with delays. Turned it into musical material, in other words. And from the effort, Off the Hook grows small tones and harmonies like those from a self-built organ. But the office noises follow along, making the little album feel oddly haunted.

There are white creaks, maybe from a chair. Treble screams like distant, escaped parakeets. Short keystrokes, mysterious silences. After the harmonic organ opening, Beachers lets a deep bass rumble beneath chopped-up beeps. Layers are added, or sudden shifts occur. It’s not meant to be perfectly polished; you’re meant to feel that a human is playing with the digital.

Patiently, small pulses build, maybe even a beat. Listen to the hidden parties and drives of everyday life, the music seems to say—but also: see what we can do to pass the waiting time while forgetting what we’re actually waiting for—someone to pick up, the boss to let us off, death catching up to us.

In the end, only the raw recording is heard. A minute of beeps, boops, and random noise. As if each motif bows to its audience. What a strange release, nostalgically so in its way. And how creative.

in brieflive

09.04.2024

Ballet’s New Power Duo

Josefine Opsahl: »Passengers of Passing Moments« (Koreorama nr. 01)

Det Kongelige Teater, 22.03–30.04

Sune Anderberg

Josefine Opsahl herself sits on stage in the Australian-Danish choreographer Tara Schaufuss’s ballet Passengers of Passing Moments, for which Opsahl has composed the music. In fact, she almost steals all the attention from the ten dancers, as it is fascinating to watch the 32-year-old cellist’s theatrical immersion and her very active use of her right leg to control the loop and effects box.

The nearly half-hour ballet score is inspired by Bach, but also conveys a highland-like sense of drama through sampled breathing, stabbing subdivisions, and pronounced reverberation. It begins with delicate, bright major-key tones, but quickly moves into the depths, finding throbbing bass and timpani-like resonance. Emotions rush through every bow stroke.

The theme of the ballet is time. In fleeting moments, the dancers are caught in Opsahl’s small, mechanical loops; later, a dark, melancholic space is established, in which a young woman sinks into a memory. Extended sounds and overtones signal a time put out of joint; a faint wind is heard, a ticking fades in, and suddenly she has dreamed her beloved into being.

The woman moves like a ghost among the other bodies as Opsahl intensifies her playing, shifting between triple and quadruple meter. At one point, it is as if she disappears entirely into the violent temperament of the music; her dramatic flair turns Bach into an Avenger-like hero, and this suits Schaufuss’s focus on the force of emotions remarkably well. It is saturated, direct, and seemingly made for a grippingly intense choreography. A powerful partnership on the grand stage.

playlist

02.04.2024

My name is Alexander Tillegreen – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music is a full bodied, raw and physical exchange. It’s an absorption that is overwhelming, that sometimes grants you relief. Music is interactive, and depends on you as a listener.«

Alexander Tillegreen is a composer and artist who operates both visually, sonically and spatially. He works in a plurality of formats including multichannel sound installations & performances, interactive listening sessions, paintings, prints, light and concerts as well as exhibitions, commissioned works, and releases. In 2023, he presented a cycle of new commissioned sound works for the Darmstädter Internationale Ferienkurse für Neue Musik. Same year, he released his debut album in words on the acclaimed German electronic music label rastermedia.

Alexander Tillegreen’s work has been the subject of numerous institutional solo and group exhibitions including: A Bruit Secret – Hearing in Art at Museum Tinguely in Basel (2023), O-Overgaden Institute for Contemporary Art in Copenhagen (2022), FuturDome Museum in Milano (2022), Kunstverein Göttingen (2022), Kunstforeningen GL Strand (2023), Museum für Moderne Kunst in Frankfurt (2017), and The National Gallery of Art in Copenhagen (2008). He has presented his music at many festivals and venues including STRØM Festival, Roskilde Festival, and CTM Festival.

His most recent work investigates the relationship between psychoacoustic sonic phenomena and their potential to reflect and awaken the listener’s own linguistic and cultural embeddedness and co-creative embodied, interaction as a listener.

He has been conducting artistic research at the Max Planck Institute for Empirical Aesthetics. This research centers on aspects of attention, spatial sound, voice, gender, identity, embodied co-creation, and language perception in relation to the phantom word illusion – a language-based psychoacoustic phenomenon, that triggers the illusory sensation of hearing inner streams of words that are not necessarily acoustically present.

In 2024, Alexander Tillegreen will represent Denmark at the ISCM World New Music Days on the Faroe Islands.