In briefrelease

The Symphonic Statement of the Year

Søs Gunver Ryberg: »Coexistence«

Sune Anderberg. © Alexander Banck-Petersen

My experience of Coexistence, Søs Gunver Ryberg’s ten-minute work for orchestra and electronics, unfolds in two stages.

At first, I am stunned. By the natural ease with which she handles the symphonic material, turning the orchestra into a potent hybrid of acoustics and synthesis. Such bite in the sound, such a sandstorm of granular texture churning on behind the instruments.

Here, I think enthusiastically, the sonic potential of the twenty-first-century orchestra is realised. But then doubt sets in during the second stage. For does something essentially similar happen here as in Swedish composer Jesper Nordin’s hour-long Emerging from Currents and Waves (2018): a technological quantum leap in symphonic sound that nevertheless freezes compositionally into a stop-and-go between thunder and silence?

The supply of drama in Coexistence is almost vulgar: unstable Icelandic dark drones, harsh brass blasts, trembling strings, thunderous timpani, abrupt brakes like those in Hollywood action trailers – and much more besides. It is a heavenly chaos. The contrast: muted alarms of bowed metal, collected noise and extended tones, like a fragile iron framework still shuddering after the storm.

The two temperaments alternate, and it sounds phenomenal under Dalia Stasevska’s direction of the BBC Symphony Orchestra. The work’s core is catastrophe – collapse and aftermath – and seen in that light, the black-and-white extremes make sense. The music is brutal, relentless. But could it have been more: more in colour, beyond the duel? Perhaps. Judge for yourself – Coexistence is without doubt the most striking symphonic statement of the year.

Playlist

20.06

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

»For me, music is an emotional refuge. When I sit at the piano I feel safe, it's where I can release everything I carry inside. It's not about performing, it's about being honest, vulnerable and free.«

Samanta Yubero, known artistically as Samyula, is a composer, pianist, and neuroscientist based in Barcelona. Trained as a classical pianist and holding a PhD in her scientific field, Samyula bridges the worlds of art and science in her work. Her music – often within neoclassicism – blends both serene and intense piano melodies with vivid, dynamic string arrangements, creating emotionally resonant and immersive soundscapes. With a deep passion for both composition and performance, Samyula offers audiences a uniquely powerful and moving experience.

Playlist

11.06

My name is Tomasz Dąbrowski – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music is the ultimate gateway to presence, a true expression of the moment.«

Praised by DownBeat Magazine as one of Europe’s most versatile and inquisitive musicians, Polish-born, Scandinavian-based trumpeter and composer Tomasz Dąbrowski creates music that whispers before it screams – blending open, lyrical melodies with raw, unconventional trumpet sounds. Dąbrowski has revealed an unceasing curiosity, stretching and expanding his jazz roots in an ever-widening circle of exploration. From the beginning he’s rejected hierarchies, preferring to see creative music as a boundless practice that can accommodate ideas drawn from every spot on the stylistic map. While plenty of musicians pivot toward new directions, sometimes transforming their aesthetic wholesale, Dąbrowski has long revealed a more ruminative and holistic mindset that has allowed him to retain a clear artistic identity through countless projects, whether driven by improvisation or composition.

Playlist

03.06

My name is Anna Roemer – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music is where my heart is. The place where I feel the most freedom and possibility to express myself. It's also the place I seek to when I need to calm down.«

Anna Roemer is a Danish guitarist and composer from South Zealand, now based in Copenhagen. She has performed with artists like Hannah Schneider, Jacob Bellens, and Guldimund. Together with saxophonist Cecilie Strange, she forms the acclaimed duo K A L E II D O, known for music that constantly evolves. The duo has received national and international praise and won the Carl Prize for »Jazz Composer of the Year« for their albums Elements and Places (2024).

In brieflive

02.06

Not the Royal Rock Star We Might Have Wished For

David M. A. P. Palmquist: »King Frederik X’s Honour March«

Premiere at Amalienborg Slotsplads, 26.05

Jakob Gustav Winckler

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

Playlist

29.05

My name is Alexandre Bazin – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music exploration and creation is not limited to notes, timbres and traditional structures, but extends to everything that shapes the listening experience.«

Alexandre Bazin is a French musician, and documentary producer, active in the experimental music scene at the fringes of GRM. His music is published by Important Records, Umor Rex Records, and Constructive. Bazin began his musical journey early, first studying classical piano at the conservatory before exploring jazz and electroacoustic music. The study of other musical languages has opened new perspectives and led him to rethink music beyond its traditional structures. He discovered a world where sound becomes raw material, and where production plays an essential part. This exploration revealed to him that music creation transcends notes and timbres, encompassing all elements that shape the listening experience, with sound engineering playing a pivotal function in this process. Bazin produces monthly documentaries for Radio France and GRM (Groupe de Recherches Musicales), chronicling the history of the experimental scene from its origins to the present.