On Wednesday evening at 5e, the audience witnessed a meeting between two musicians who, in terms of stage presence, did not immediately seem to have much in common. Lotte Anker sat upright in her chair with either alto or soprano saxophone resting on her lap, while Fred Frith leaned forward over his guitar, pedals and the many small objects he used to force all manner of sounds out of his instrument. Stoic calm versus frenetic tinkering. Outwardly, they seemed like opposites. Musically, however, they were closely connected.

They hardly looked at each other during the set, yet seemed completely absorbed in the sound they were creating together. At times, the music was knotty and difficult to penetrate: un-guitar-like tones, percussive attacks, almost rock-like passages, rapid saxophone runs, long sustained notes, noise and overtones. Like a riddle that had no desire to be solved. At other moments, Frith created clear drones over which Anker moved with melancholy grace, sensuous and beautiful. It sounded like a wordless tale of darkness, fear and uncertainty, but also of light, hope and togetherness. The essence of life distilled to the meeting point between two of jazz’s great singular voices.

The concert ended with the evening’s most direct gesture between the two. A gentle tone from Frith’s guitar rang out continuously until he suddenly brought his hand down on the fretboard with a resounding thud and sent Anker a mischievous smile. A brief acknowledgement of the intense ride they had just taken the audience through.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

 

自由即兴创作比性爱更好! – »Free improvisation is better than sex.« According to drummer Kresten Osgood, the saying is attributed to Confucius. Whether the ancient Chinese philosopher ever uttered those words is doubtful. But the quote perfectly captures the spirit of one of the most unusual events at this year's Copenhagen Jazz Festival.

From 7–11 July, pianist Søren Kjærgaard and drummer Kresten Osgood will take over CC Taste on Amagerbrogade, performing daily from 2–4 pm among diners, dim sum and steaming hot pots.

With Soli City, the boundary between the organic and the synthetic is almost impossible to discern. What first appears to be an ordinary piano suddenly slips into a dizzying glissando. Soli City resembles a cyborg – half cello, half computer – fusing strings and voices into a seamless digital synthesis. The result is a science-fiction dream interrupted by surreal monologues and abruptly punctuated by the shrill click of a camera shutter.

That percussive camera-flash motif runs throughout both PARADOXE (2024) and the new album Poetics of a New Estate. Here, Harald Bjørn, the composer behind Soli City, further develops the sonic language introduced on its predecessor. Whereas PARADOXE staged the encounter between acoustic and digital sounds as an explicit confrontation, the two worlds now feel far more deeply integrated. Even the album's abrupt shifts seem entirely natural, as on »Rooms & Walls«, where a slurred vocoder and delicate string textures give way to an insistent drum groove.

Soli City's music embodies a distinctive form of self-reflection. As acoustic sounds bend, fracture and are interrupted by those recurring electronic flashes, we are reminded of Bjørn's remarkable ability to compose genuinely innovative music. Just as the most visionary science fiction remains rooted in the realities of its own time, every musical breakthrough carries echoes of the past. Soli City embraces these nostalgic resonances only to twist them into unfamiliar shapes.

With deceptively simple means, Poetics of a New Estate dissolves the boundary between nostalgia and contemporaneity. Like a true cyborg, Soli City reveals the divide between the digital and the acoustic to be less a fundamental opposition than an oddly arbitrary construction.