in briefrelease

A Strange Instrument, a Familiar Sound

Mike Sheridan: «Touch«

There is something almost dogmatic about Mike Sheridan’s latest album, Touch. Everything leads back to the Cristal Baschet – a peculiar instrument from the 1950s in which sound is produced by running wet fingers over glass rods, setting metal resonators into vibration. No strings, no keys, just glass, water, skin and friction, slowly making the metal sing.

The Cristal Baschet is not merely an instrument on Touch. It is the album cover, the subject of the press photos, and almost the very argument for the album’s existence.

It recalls the material fetishism found in the American duo Matmos, whose music is often built around a single material or sound source: metal on Metallic Life Review (2025), plastic on Plastic Anniversary (2019), a washing machine on Ultimate Care II (2016). What is interesting about such constraints is that they ought to force the music somewhere it otherwise might not be able to go.

While listening to Touch, a question therefore begins to press itself forward: Which of these sounds could not have existed without a Cristal Baschet?

There are glassy tones that hang in the air and slowly change texture. Thin, cutting vibrations. Metallic surfaces that flutter, ripple, open and close. A constant sense of droning resonance; of something vibrating just on the other side of the audible.

Sheridan’s layering is meticulous. There is a precision to the mix, an almost surgical sense of the distance between the different textures. The best moments occur when the surface is disturbed: something that scratches at or short-circuits the otherwise tightly controlled resonance. On »BOW / GROUND«, for instance, deep bass pulses suddenly enter, creating a different physical quality – crackling, heavy, like something hitting the floor.

But Touch is first and foremost a well-produced ambient album. It moves through different degrees of the same state, changing nuance without ever truly changing its skin. That is not necessarily a weakness. There is something consistent, almost meditative, in Sheridan’s insistence. But the longer one remains in the same sonic state, the more one begins to miss what ought to be the Cristal Baschet’s particular possibility.

This is where the disappointment lies: in the gap between the instrument’s strangeness and the music’s conventional appearance. The sounds have been assimilated into a familiar ambient vocabulary, where the extraordinary instrument ends up producing something surprisingly familiar. You can hear that something unusual is happening at the source of the sound. But you cannot necessarily hear why it had to be this particular instrument. Had one not been told that a rare, almost otherworldly acoustic sculpture was standing in the room, one would hardly have guessed it.

in briefrelease

09.12

Minimalism for Patient Ears

Lukas Lauermann: »Varve«

col legno, 24.10

Marta Bo

Varve – from the Danish varv – refers to the annual layers of sediment, a quiet geological archive of time’s passage. Lukas Lauermann’s album carries this meaning into its very sonic core. Here, organ and vocal samples taken from worn cassette tapes meet an inquisitive, almost ascetic cello that moves like fine strokes across a flickering, dust-filled soundscape.

The cello is restrained but never passive. It slips in and out of the cassette’s white noise, of fragmented voices and the organ’s gentle currents of air, until all elements ultimately merge into a single, organic texture. Lauermann himself describes the music as a depiction of irregularities, and it is precisely in these small shifts that Varve finds its quiet strength. The album’s idea of sonic sedimentation becomes an image of our longing to reconnect with nature’s tempo. The compositional motifs seem repetitive, yet they never repeat themselves entirely; they build layer upon layer, like organic growth. As a listener, one becomes witness to microscopic changes slowly unfolding – a process that can bring about an almost meditative state.

Varve is an album for those who prefer listening experiences at an unhurried pace; for those who find Hans Zimmer too grandiose and would rather follow the patient growth of grass than an orchestra’s emotional climaxes.

playlist

05.12

My name is Gintė Preisaitė – would you like to see my playlist?

Gintė Preisaitė

»Music for me is the purest transformation of any energy hiding inside. Through the sound it can become anything we need. It is a form of a bond and connection, it's subtle and it is direct at the same time. For me it was always the biggest exploration machine I could learn about myself, people and environments.«

Gintė Preisaitė is a Lithuanian artist based in Copenhagen who works across piano, electronics, composition and improvisation. Classically trained, she has moved steadily toward electronics, noise, free improvisation and jazz, performing in numerous constellations in recent years.

Working with prepared acoustic instruments, electronics and tape, she bridges her classical background with contemporary sonic experimentation. Through shifting timbres, textures, collaged melodies and percussive figures, she seeks to push acoustic and electronic sound into a space that feels both personal and deeply connected.

Last year she released the EP Spring Mass under the name Baraboro, followed this September by Kaiko, her trio release with Amalie Dahl and Jan Philipp Treen. She is currently developing a new project under her own name for release next year. Gintė performs widely as both a solo artist and a member of various ensembles in Copenhagen and abroad.

in brieflive

05.12

Anna von Hausswolff: The Path to the Organ’s Modern Resurrection

Klara Lewis, Anna von Hausswolff

Vega, 04.12

Martin Funder

The organ, one of Christianity’s most powerful liturgical markers, runs like a red thread through Swedish artist Anna von Hausswolff’s work. But on her latest album Iconoclasts, the long, piercing drones are toned down in favour of a sharper, driving energy. It was an energy that came through strongly at Hausswolff’s concert in Vega last night, where she was, as usual, joined by a large band. The evening opened with Swedish noise musician Klara Lewis, whose mumbling cassette-loop textures set a brutally atmospheric tone from the start.

Hausswolff’s band was this time expanded with saxophone and percussion, both central on Iconoclasts and both contributing to the slight eurodance tinge that colours several tracks. Unfortunately, the saxophone was at times swallowed by the dense soundscape. Fortunately, Hausswolff’s radiant voice cut through clearly. So did the small organetto – a kind of bellows-driven organ with long pipes. It stood like a totem at the centre of the stage and was almost embraced by Hausswolff whenever she played it. A piece like »The Whole Woman« (a waltzing duet with Iggy Pop on the album) became, in concert, a touching love ode, carried by the organ’s gentle breath as its pulse.

In recent years, a number of musicians have used the organ’s distinctive resonances to wrest it free from the weight of Christian liturgy, giving the instrument an almost iconoclastic status. Despite a slightly muddy sound mix, Hausswolff’s concert was a clear example of this contrast – still deeply rooted in ecclesiastical connotations, yet now an accomplice in large-scale modern productions and a central instrument on major stages.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

playlist

04.12

My name is Jørgen Teller – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music, to me, is … the silence that gropes – like yourself – across a black canvas.
In moments, a hissing emerges.
Nuts are cracked.«

Jørgen Teller has a long career as an electric guitarist, vocalist, electronic musician, and performer. He has released records solo as Static Teller and with Jørgen Teller & The Empty Stairs, Kaptajn Ørentvist … He frequently collaborates with local and international musicians.

playlist

25.11

My name is Kristoffer Raasted – would you like to see my playlist?

»For me, music is a non-figurative process that cannot be definitively categorised.«

Kristoffer Raasted graduated as a visual artist from the Media School at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in 2018 and is currently completing a PhD in practice-based and artistic research. Raasted has been an artist in residence at the Danish Institute in Rome and a visiting researcher at UdK Sound Studies in Berlin as part of his PhD.