In brief
06.07.2022

Tidsmaskinen er itu 

Rebecka Sofie Ahvenniemi: »Soundtrack of an Imaginary Opera«
© Soundtrack of an Imaginary Opera
© Soundtrack of an Imaginary Opera

Med Soundtrack of an Imaginary Opera forsøger finske Rebecka Sofia Ahvenniemi at tage os på en rejse ind i skitserne til en ufuldendt opera, og netop det er operaens største hæmsko: Projektet føles for ufærdigt og retningsløst, til at fremstå som en helhed. Musikalsk og sonisk er der tale om en hybrid mellem barok-opera og 1920’ernes musikteater, med besøg i både cabaret og det avantgardistiske, men også lån fra rock og R’n’B, som sad vi i en ituslået musikalsk tidsmaskine.

Først ved sidste sang, »Nymph Cry«, hvor sproget bryder sammen og nymfens naturnære stemme akkompagneres af en klokke, indtager musikken det drive og den fylde, operaen har manglet. Desværre flygtigt, vi slynges tilbage til barokken og referencer til passager tidligere i værket.

Måske er det netop den meget sparsomme instrumentation, der efterlader mig med et afsavn, krydret med mange gentagelser. I stedet for at dekonstruere en opera, som Ahvenniemi efter eget udsagn ønsker, ender hun mest med at rekonstruere en masse referencer og parrer Mario Brothers-lyde med et Göethe-digt. Operaens potentiale forløses formentlig også bedst i en reel opsætning, med scenografi og et større ensemble, og jeg håber, det er noget, Ahvenniemi arbejder hen imod.

Bjarke Niemann. © Frederik Barasinski

»Music is everything that can only be described far more poorly with words.«

Bjarke Niemann is the lead singer, songwriter, and producer of the Danish band Spleen United. The group broke through with Godspeed Into The Mainstream in 2005 and has performed at, among other places, Roskilde Festival and the Copenhagen Opera House. Bjarke Niemann has also composed and developed music for TV and video games – including the international game series Hitman – and has produced albums with artists such as Soleima, Statisk, Afskum, and Hugorm.

© Motis Necrojam

»Music is the pursuit of original failure...« 

Motis Necrojam is the singer and collager with the Noseflutes and The Clicking Stick, a pair of combos from the old English Birmingham times, adorned with new-times dedication to derailment, approved by Sir John Peel, via their four live sessions for his mighty BBC Radio programme, occasional treaders of the boards, musicians with alias obsessions. One thing Necrojam has is a digit on the diminishing pulse. 

Katrine Muff. © Ditte Capion

»Music, to me, is the key to – and an extension of – my vocabulary. If I struggle to put ‘spoken words’ to something inside, or if I need release in the form of a proper cry, the right song can put me in the right gear immediately. It can be the lyrics, the melody, or both that give direct access to my emotions, where the brain can simply be put into neutral and carried away.«

Katrine Muff, born in 1985, is a composer and singer. She has set music to texts by, among others, Stine Pilgaard and Suzanne Brøgger, and in 2021 she received the Folk Song Prize (Den Folkelige Sangs Pris). Together with Lone Hørslev, she is currently releasing the album Jeg ønsker mig and working as a songwriter on the theatre concert STOLT (Folketeateret).

In brieflive
04.10

Soap Horse Kept a Tight Rein – Maybe Too Tight

Soap Horse + K Bech
Soap Horse. © Malthe Folke Ivarsson
Soap Horse. © Malthe Folke Ivarsson

K Bech – known from the rock band Shiny Darkly – opened Saturday night’s concert at Alice with a raw, unpolished melancholy. A sense of Copenhagen-style urban gloom was palpable, yet the slightly nervous set never really took off. Despite a promising setup of violin, guitar, and electronic tracks, the sensitive lyrics remained more hints than breakthroughs.

Soap Horse then took the stage and truly ignited the evening with an authentic chicken-picking riff. The country-rooted guitar technique was just one example of the musical abundance running through the band, which has just released its debut EP Tooth Inside a Tooth.

Nothing seemed accidental. From the rust-red gothic tapestry to the carefully chosen instrumentation – violin, saxophone, and pedal steel alongside guitar, bass, and drums – every detail added to a deliberate aesthetic. The sound was dark and alluring, in sharp contrast to frontman Hans Gustav Björklund Moulvad’s shock of white hair and intense stage presence.

The songs were crafted with a refined sense of balance. Simple, repetitive motifs were passed between the instruments, and when massive noise walls and shimmering colors broke through, the already blurred borders of indie rock stretched even further. Moulvad commanded the whole with ease, moving charismatically between the music’s many layers. And yet, I found myself wishing Soap Horse would let go completely. The weightless intermezzos – where the unusual lineup could have truly unfolded – were too often pulled back by a steady drumbeat, returning the music to a safe ground. Soap Horse displayed remarkable control and a firm grasp of both their sonic universe and their audience. Perhaps all that’s left is to prove they dare to loosen their grip.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

© PR

Illiyeen is visual artist Eliyah Mesayer’s fictional state for the stateless, a group to which the artist herself belonged until just a few years ago. Since 2019, she has continuously added national symbols in Illiyeen’s characteristic black color, and today the state has its own postal service, national anthem, uniform, navy – and a steadily expanding list of collaborators.

It’s a clever concept, at once tightly defined and completely open. Because the state is nomadic and collective, it can arise anywhere and include a wider circle of like-minded artists, such as Angel Wei from Haloplus+ and the poet Zahna Siham Benamour. It is a state of mind.

At Den Frie, it was the drum duo Thicket – Adam »CCsquele« Nielsen and Dan Kjær Nielsen – who performed from opposite sides of a split drum kit. Through an improvised drum solo so energetic that drumsticks flew through the air, they explored the shared rhythm that emerged, broke apart, and shifted character along the way. A fitting symbol of Illiyeen’s community: a constant negotiation and coordination of tempo and movement.

Along the way, the toms gave way to a recorded sound piece, a spherical electronic composition with subdued spoken word woven into the soundscape. The work originated from an earlier installation but was extended for the occasion, with added acoustic elements recorded by Cæcilie Trier and Xenia Xamanek. It carried a mournful, sensitive vibe that stood in sharp contrast to the thundering intensity of the drums. Mesayer’s poetic, black-clad universe and Thicket’s simultaneously tight and improvisational energy bursts blended perfectly into a community one longed to be part of.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielzcarek