Jamen så gør vi det bare!
På den norske Borealis Festival præsenterer den danske akkordeonist Andreas Borregaard to meget forskellige videoværker (tilgængelige online til og med 18. april, red.). I det første, Philip Venables og Ted Huffmans My Favourite Piece Is the Goldberg Variations, fortæller Borregaard sin mors livshistorie, mens falmede hjemmevideoer flimrer i baggrunden og hans dramatiske akkordeonspil på én og samme tid modarbejder og understøtter fortællingen.
Det er akkordeonet, som får en banalitet som »I felt better with him around / he was always holding my hand« til at lyde som hårdt tjent livserfaring, og som fremhæver den knusende melankoli i børnesangen »Bjerget i skoven«. Med få, velvalgte virkemidler formidler Borregaard på smukkeste vis en fortælling om kærlighed og tab, om tosomhed og ensomhed. Det er en udsøgt sanseliggørelse af hverdagen.
Anderledes forholder det sig med det andet værk, Marcela Lucatelli og Kirstine Fogh Vindelevs Drift. Her spiller Borregaard skingre, skrattende lyde på sit akkordeon iført en gylden latexheldragt, gentager omkvædet fra Rod Stewarts »Sailing«, som var det et mantra, tilfører »Alle sømænd er glade for piger« en helt ny, homoerotisk tekst, laver fjollede grimasser iført paryk og læbestift og vandrer forvildet rundt i snevejr klædt ud som et kæmpe insekt.
Programteksten fortæller, at værket inddrager elementer fra Borregaards virkelige liv, hvilket forekommer mig usandsynligt, medmindre han er hovedpersonen i Kafkas Metamorfosen. Jeg er en stor beundrer af Lucatellis arbejde som vokalist, men må nok indrømme, at jeg ikke forstod Drift. Jeg sad tilbage med følelsen af, at værket forsøgte at sige noget om køn og seksualitet, men præcis hvad, blev aldrig tydeligt for mig. Omvendt er det måske en fejl at lede efter et budskab frem for blot at hengive sig til værkets arbsurdisme.
A Quilt of Care and Music
We all know the simple act of care involved in placing a blanket around another person. In the installation A Room to Wait In, this gesture is made literal through textiles and song, both carrying a history spanning centuries. Nan Na Hvass has quilted together 150-year-old fabrics with her own emotional experiences and contemporary encounters with waiting rooms during fertility treatment. Her aim is to transform the clinical space in which one wakes after a procedure, drowsy and clinging to a fragile hope, into a more nurturing environment that stitches generations together. And to bring music into the experience. Each quilt bears witness to the bodies it has warmed and the hands that have sewn it.
Soprano and multidisciplinary artist Katinka Fogh Vindelev moved among us as we lay on individual beds, each covered with a quilted bedspread. »This pain is not yours alone,« came the words in her beautiful, deeply intimate voice, set to music by Hildegard von Bingen, the Italian composer Barbara Strozzi and Vindelev herself. Melancholic minor scales descended; elsewhere, small melodies emerged from an earlier musical era, without leading tones – that is, without the sense of causality found in virtually all music since the eighteenth century. Sounds that simply exist, without control or any necessary direction – much like a person living with a fragile hope of fertility.
There were only four places available – an intimate concert in every sense, in which care, expressed through song, textiles and presence, merged in an almost magical way. The person lying on the bed next to me could not stop crying afterwards. The room was anything but clinical – song and textiles had transformed it into a place of care. Thoughtful and beautiful.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»Music, to me, reflects human experience and allows us to find ourselves on an entirely existential level, beyond language. It feels like a shared realm to which we all have access. Music may be the art form that requires the least intellectual processing (although it can certainly involve that, too!). Because it consists of sound unfolding over time, we must recreate its colours and emotions within ourselves. This can happen rapidly, as if we were possessed by a force from outside. Music contains many layers of codes to which we relate in both similar and different ways. Some of these codes, such as pulse, resonate with unconscious levels within us that date back to prehistoric times. Other layers, such as familiar musical references, speak to the modern, cultivated human being. This interplay makes music uniquely stimulating! In cultural policy discourse, art is often reduced to an instrument for something else (which it certainly is and can be, too). In doing so, we forget art’s intrinsic value.«
Solveig Sørbø is a composer, music producer and artist who creates classical music and alternative pop. She composed the music for the documentary Hans pluss Liv (NRK), and a piece from the film was later performed by KORK (the Norwegian Radio Orchestra). On the occasion of the 2026 solar eclipse, she composed an orchestral work connecting Dante’s metaphysics with the physics of celestial bodies.
Solveig has previously worked in academia on innovative projects such as MusicLab (the edition featuring DSQ was named Event of the Year by DR), as well as as a radio journalist and presenter for NRK and radiOrakel. With a methodological approach to art, Solveig seeks to create music that moves people.
Her critically acclaimed opera Heroin chic, with a libretto by award-winning author Maria Kjos Fonn, premiered at the Classix Festival in Romania in 2025 and received its Norwegian premiere at Parkteatret in Oslo in February 2026. Following this, Ballade dubbed her »Music’s Klæbo«. Solveig is currently working on an opera based on Ibsen’s The Wild Duck, among other projects, and preparing a concert with the band Naturhistorisk.
»I listen a lot to music from games that I play myself. Furthermore, through my work as a director, I am introduced to a wealth of fantastic music by my wonderful colleagues on every new project. I use music as a tool in my theatrical processes – both to get into the right mood when preparing to convey meanings and directions to the artists, designers, and performers involved, and simply to wake up in the morning while making my coffee. Music often communicates more clearly than words; much like scenic actions and visual expressions, it can be highly precise in conveying emotional content – often more so than the spoken or written word. I love that kind of affect!«
Emil Rostrup is a theatre director. In recent years, he has directed productions such as Bad Mexican Dog (2026) at Sort/Hvid, Crip (2026) at Revolver, Klodshans og Prinsessen (2026) at Aalborg Teater, Prometheus (2025) at Nørrebro Teater, Vi, de druknede (2025) at Republique, and Pow Pow Pow (2024) at Revolver.
He graduated from the Danish National School of Performing Arts in 2020 as a theatre director. His graduation production was Woyzeck Ehxibited – a devised paraphrase of Georg Büchner’s classic, Woyzeck.
»Who ever said that music is ‘just’ music? To me, it is anything but that: an urge to understand and explain it all. A piece of jewelry I wear every single day. A joy that can, at times, run deep. An ever-changing imprint of millions of stitches in my heart. A longing to disappear.«
Henrik Marstal is a musician, author, and music researcher. He holds a PhD in musicology, is a senior lecturer at the Rhythmic Music Conservatory, and frequently appears in the media as an expert source on music. His areas of interest include contemporary music, such as electronic music. This winter, he will release both a new album with the pop group ibens and a book about Else Marie Pade, published by the British publishing house Bloomsbury.