The Symphonic Statement of the Year
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.
Finnish Space Travel
The Finnish multimedia artist Jan Anderzén has, with the album Hoshi, released under the solo moniker Tomutonttu, created a true little star. Not only because »hoshi« literally means »star« in Japanese, but above all due to the music itself. There is something cosmic, yet infinitely minute, about the sonic worlds Anderzén conjures—like a galaxy reflected in a puddle, or a space journey in a rocket carved from a hollow tree trunk. Synths emit busy, warm blips and bloops, while ultra-short vocal and instrumental samples create a recognizable blur. At once artificial and organic – soft, rounded, jagged, crackling.
Anderzén approaches sound with a playfulness I simply adore. His music is strange in an incredibly comforting way. It places me in a kind of colorful, trance-like state, only interrupted when, several times over the course of the album, I find myself smiling in delight at a particularly great sound. The synths on »Katse osuu sähköön!« The choral samples on »Kesä oli äkkiä ohi!« Milo Linnovaara’s flute on »Malta lausua ‘AH’!« And many more. Hoshi is an album packed with microscopic moments that together form a frayed, exploding, radiant, idiosyncratic whole—a stellar moment of just under 38 minutes.