Det er simpelthen et henrivende aparte stykke musik, Martin Stauning har bikset sammen her. Et opgør med ideen om, at harper er noget, der tryller folk i søvn – Zachary Hatcher river og flår til tider i instrumentet – men samtidig også et værk, der har en fundamentalt drømmende karakter.
Første sats genstarter sig selv to gange og lader distinkt opmålte instrumentgrupper gennemleve en slags urolig drøm: små, diskret hektiske fragmenter, måske fra musik, de engang har spillet, som nu hjemsøger dem. Det er et spindelvæv af strengespil, pludselige bjælder, pizzicato som minutur og brogede, udstrakte klange – små drømmemaskiner, der peger i hver sin retning, men ender med at finde hvile.
Omvendt med andensatsen, der går ind i roen og lader den udvikle sig. Først i en drypstenshule af træblokke, vandrende harpe og DR Symfoniorkestret som en fjern tåge. Siden stille dansende til en maracas-tango næsten uden bevægelse, en genfærdsballet. Ekstremt nøgne, men forførende klangrum.
Er vi vågne, eller sover vi? Tredjesatsen lyder af et vågent mareridt med sinistre alarmbølger og et omklamrende orkester. Og så, for første gang, harpen som blid, men også drilsk drømmebebuder. Lykkes det den at bryde ud af rædslen? Hvem ved, for i samme nu er værket ovre.
Martin Stauning sætter ikke punktummer, lader ikke forløsning give sig ud for sandhed. Han lader os skimte en hemmelig lydverden og abstrakte situationer, som nok skal hjemsøge os tilstrækkeligt. Formidabelt!
»For me, music is a particular engine for diversity, identity, individuality, and community. Music has an immediate ability both to create and strengthen safe spaces and to expand and tear apart the boundaries of existence.«
Artist, curator, and educator Jacob Eriksen works between Struer and Berlin. He is head of Sound Art Lab, festival director of Struer Tracks, director of studies at 89 Sound Art School, and teaches Sound Studies and Sonic Arts at UdK Berlin.
Back in the day, people watched Beverly Hills 90210 simply because it filled the flow-TV schedule. Artist Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard, too, spent his youth wandering through those virtual Californian landscapes. In the project Fata Morgana, Løkkegaard and American composer Michael Pisaro-Liu explore this strange experience between place and fiction. With the alto recorder as their weapon, they invite us both home and away. And, as a nostalgic homage to bygone media realities, the project comes with an A-side and a B-side. It begins with »Visit«: the crackle of forest floor near Løkkegaard’s childhood home in western Jutland, recorded in 2021. The microphone is placed somewhere, a few steps are taken – and then silence... Far away, the alto recorder begins a melody surrounded by birdsong. This homely soundscape is woven into the listener’s own sense of place. Was that a car driving by – here? Or there?
On the B-side, »Visitation«, Pisaro-Liu repositions the flute piece in California in 2024. The tension rises; the melody is visited and haunted from the other side of the globe. It is disturbed and distorted by electric signals, siren tones, interfering noise, and fragments of American voices murmuring things about »fever dream« and »not anything in particular.«
For indeed, there isn’t really anything. It’s classic Løkkegaard: an imagined world unfolding in the listener’s mind. It could have been done in less than 2x22 minutes, but the idea is strong, simple, and well executed. Like the sonic version of a cartoon mirage shimmering falsely in the sharp Californian sunlight.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»For me, music is the light that streams in through our windows and touches the human mind. Music is community – something we create together. Music is the other language – the one that can be spoken when all words and conversations have been worn to pieces.«
Mark Solborg is a Danish-Argentinian guitarist, composer, and improviser, educated at institutions including the Rhythmic Music Conservatory and New School University in New York. He has released 28 albums of his own works and collaborated with figures such as Evan Parker, Susana Santos Silva, and Herb Robertson – often on the artist-run label ILK, which he co-founded. His music has been performed in 23 countries and involves musicians from 15 nations. Projects such as TUNGEMÅL and BABEL explore the role of the electric guitar in acoustic spaces, and his practice also includes collaborations with theatre, film, and visual art. Solborg is a recipient of a Reumert Award, has been honored by the Danish Arts Foundation, and in 2024 was nominated for a Danish Music Award as Composer of the Year. He is currently releasing the album Confluencia.
There’s something distinctly mechanical about Oh No Noh’s album As Late As Possible. Like a warped, crumpled tape, melodies bubble to the surface, and the offbeat rhythms repeat with the halting tempo of a scratched LP. It’s easy to place Oh No Noh within the esteemed German tradition of blurring the lines between human and machine, but on As Late As Possible, the machine sounds more like a distant relative than a deliberate artistic objective.
Behind Oh No Noh is Leipzig-based guitarist Markus Rom. In addition to a wealth of synthesizers and tape loops, the album’s 11 tracks are performed using guitar, drums, banjo, clarinet, and organ. The absence of vocals sets the album in a subdued, cinematic mood, and the music feels like a nostalgic inner monologue, told with a warm affection for the melancholy of outdated technologies.
Although mechanical sensibilities are prominent throughout the album, several tracks are driven by more melodic band arrangements. But to me, As Late As Possible is clearly most compelling on the less melodic pieces. The crooked and noisy »Fawn« or the hesitant closing track »Ore« are moments where the dialogue with the machine elevates the music in ways that the more melodic, band-oriented pieces don’t quite reach. These are places where the machines sigh nostalgically and form small, imperfect thought bubbles that cut off and restart again.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»Music for me is like a sourdough. If you don't feed it right it is going to die. If you feed it correctly a lot of people can benefit from it.«
Halym Kim is a drummer, composer and project coordinator based in Copenhagen. His music is mainly based in free improvisation and experimental music but performs also as a traditional Korean percussionist. He has a Master and an Advanced Postgraduate Diploma in Music Performance from RMC in Copenhagen. Together with Nana Pi he organizes Impro Camp which is a music camp for free and structured improvised music that is happening every year in Fredericia, Denmark.
