Smukt vågner Agnes
I August Strindbergs symbolmættede drama Et Drømmespil fra 1902 forlader gudedatteren Agnes sit himmelske hjem og tager bolig blandt menneskene. Da hun ved stykkets slutning vender tilbage, opsummerer hun sine jordiske lidelser således: »At være til; at mærke mit syn svækket af et øje, min hørelse sløvet af et øre, og min tanke, min luftige, lyse tanke fanget i fedtfletningers labyrinter.«
Disse fedtfletninger væver sig ligeledes ud og ind af komponisten Lil Lacys Strindberg-fortolkning, mens det luftige, det lyse repræsenteres af lette overtoner. I Lacys multimedieundersøgelse fremstår mennesker forbundet på tværs af udstrakte geografier og generationer. Det understøttes af et komplekst landskab af klassisk og elektronisk musik, lys, billeder, skrevne og talte ord.
Som hos Strindberg er det gudernes verden, der har rod i det konkrete. Lacy starter med noget så jordnært som lyden af en gulerod, der skrælles og gnaskes, mens tandsættets kværnende rytmer runger gennem kraniet. Herefter glider vi over i drømmen. Agnes synker videre, langt, langt ned til menneskene, mens tonerne fra et akkordeon, spillet kyndigt af solisten Bjarke Mogensen, bliver til lyden af en lunge i konstant bevægelse, et organ der langsomt udvider sig, trækker sig sammen og holder os fast i livet, mens vi sover videre. Strygerne understreger denne skubbende, trækkende bevægelse.
En række stemmer – tilhørende en sydafrikansk kunstner, forfatteren Suzanne Brøgger og andre – fylder salen. Nok er det »synd for menneskene« (jf. Strindberg), men hos Lacy er figurerne fulde af håb og drømme for fremtiden. Som mennesker ejer vi ikke guddommeligt overblik; vort syn er netop »svækket af et øje«, af den fysiske verden vi er kastet ned i. Samtidig er der skønhed at finde i »fedtfletningernes labyrinter«, i måden vi er bundet sammen på.
You are somehow connected slutter ligesom Et Drømmespil med en gigantisk krysantemum, der springer ud, mens Agnes vågner. Smukt, brusende og voldsomt. Andre steder i opsætningen svæver citater fra Strindbergs tekst over musikerne. Denne direkte forankring i den oprindelige dialog virker dog unødvendig. Lacys stykke kan sagtens stå selv.
Deadly Serious Play at Louisiana
New Sounds at Louisiana is an initiative in which the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art has invited the record label Dacapo and the music publisher Edition S to curate concerts featuring living composers. Simon Steen-Andersen was the first composer in the series, and he seized the opportunity to assemble a programme that was not only overwhelming and exhilarating, but also deeply unsettling. Lasting an hour, the concert unfolded as a continuous sequence in which each work flowed seamlessly into the next, forming a single extended statement of at least part of the composer’s artistic practice and philosophy.
Combining video and live performance, the concert served as a manifestation of several of Steen-Andersen’s key artistic strategies. Central among them are techniques of estrangement and defamiliarisation, exemplified by Asthma (2017) for accordion, air pumps, and video, a work that explores and interrogates human breathing in all its positive and negative dimensions. Amid the many grotesque and humorous scenes – accompanied by Håkon Stene’s brilliant Foley-style soundtrack of air noises, sound effects, and spoken commentary – a brief clip of brutal police violence suddenly appears. In it, an officer methodically sprays pepper spray into the faces of handcuffed demonstrators. In that instant, everything else no longer seems quite so funny, and the crooked smile freezes.
The concert was a veritable sensory bombardment. Presenting all the works attacca undoubtedly created a powerful sense of flow, but it also left the audience almost saturated with impressions. Even so, the subsequent conversation between Simon Steen-Andersen and music critic and author Thomas Michelsen felt far too brief. Yet the composer succeeded in making his point: everything he does, he said, is a form of »deadly serious play.« Exactly.
Gintė Preisaitė Turns Doubt into Music
You increasingly encounter Gintė Preisaitė in different contexts and under different names – solo as Baraboro and as part of the trio Treen. With Instruments of Forgetting and the Singing Bone, the Lithuanian-Danish composer releases her first album under her own name, and it certainly feels like her most personal work to date.
Above all, this is because Preisaitė sings on seven of the album’s eight tracks. She treats her voice as an instrument equal to all the others, and although the singing is lyrical, she primarily uses it to create texture, depth, and contrast. On »Summary Saint Mary«, for instance, layers of vocals in different registers intermingle with scraping background noise, rapid pulses, resonant bass, and a multitude of sounds of both digital and analog origin. It feels refreshingly fragmentary – a willingness to play with uncertainty. Not everything coheres, yet it is precisely this lack of cohesion that makes the music feel alive and compelling.
Only on »Nippon Dreams« – a dense collage of percussion, samples, and field recordings of Japanese voices – is Preisaitė’s vocal absent. And it is only then that one realizes how essential it has been as a point of orientation throughout the album. Its absence leaves a void that underscores the duality Preisaitė works with: the music feels both intimate and cool, present and distant.
Instruments of Forgetting and the Singing Bone does not provide many answers. Instead, it becomes yet another fascinating piece in the puzzle of Preisaitė’s singular oeuvre.
A Violinist with Fire in His Bow
There is nothing quite like true enthusiasts. They champion composers and works that might otherwise have remained dormant. Here we have the exuberant violinist Darragh Morgan, who since the age of fifteen (!) has promoted and performed contemporary music. He knows what works and has a keen instinct for new pieces and composers – especially on this album with the not exactly catchy title Spin – New Music for Violin & Orchestra from Northern Ireland. Four relatively recent violin concertos, all centred around Morgan as soloist. Two of them are dedicated to the musical firebrand himself.
There is fire in Brian Irvine’s violin concerto À mon seul désir from the very beginning, where sparkling motifs and riffs erupt everywhere. Almost too much energy and activity – but it works, and all the fierce gestures are carefully balanced. The movement is titled »With a big life embracing energy«. Concrete and descriptive – the Irish leave the grand spheres of abstraction to the contemporary music scene in Central Europe. I have replayed the dramatic climax of the second movement several times out of sheer enthusiasm, and the entire concerto (which lasts only fifteen minutes) ends with angelic beauty on Morgan’s highest, finest strings.
Ryan Molloy’s three-movement violin concerto, stretching beyond twenty minutes, by contrast tends to drift somewhat aimlessly, although the final movement reaches a strong level. Bill Campbell’s Swim is unmistakably Irish in tone throughout, conjuring images of rolling fields and the proud Irish landscape. Midway through the quarter-hour work, Darragh Morgan delivers a heartfelt and expansive solo cadenza.
Fortunately, Frank Lyons’s Spin 3 is also a small gem, leaving the listener uplifted by this new Northern Irish music performed by the Ulster Orchestra and the fascinating Darragh Morgan, whose deep personal dedication gives so much to the music.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek