in brief
23.11.2022

Milde skaber

Thomas Blachman: »Oh Yes My Maker«
© PR
© PR

Så er der endelig godt nyt til de mange husejere med gasfyr. Sultanen af nedsablinger i primetime, Thomas Blachman, har med suiten Oh Yes My Maker skabt et værk, der består af så rigelige mængder varm luft, at energikrisen nu må være ovre.

Blachman har i forbindelse med udgivelsen udråbt sig selv til den symfoniske musiks frelser. Og forberedt gud og hvermand på, at »parnasset« og »snobberne« nok vil synes, at suiten – der foreligger som ren og skær MIDI-musik, fordi genialitet ikke kan holdes nede – er noget »frygteligt lort«.

Det er simpelthen en fornøjelse, når udgivelser ledsages af så nøjagtige anmeldelser fra kunstnerens egen hånd, at man ikke føler trang til at opponere. For Blachmans plastiske MIDI-suite er en kontrarevolution. Han er på sin største mission hidtil: at overbevise os om, at fortiden er fremtiden.

I dette parallelle univers væves revolutionens lydtæppe af Schönbergs ekspressionisme, Stravinskijs neoklassicisme, Bernsteins symfoniske jazz og tidligere tiders filmmusik. Jovist, det lyder tungt som et arkivskab, støvet som gammel cognac og mørkt som en undereksponeret spionfilm. Men tjek det her ud:

Musikken spilles af et computerprogram! Et vaskeægte computerprogram. Kan man forestille sig noget mere moderne? Thomas Blachman, der nu i tyve år har solgt sig selv som originalitetens sendebud, kan ikke. Han kalder det »en ny æstetisk dagsorden for kontrapunktisk partiturmusik«.

Men »frygteligt lort« ligger bare bedre i munden.

© Niklas Ottander

»Music is a deep, but not serious, spiritual practice, in which creator, collaborator, and consumer alike are their own personal pope.«

James Black (b. 1990) is a composer, performer, and artistic director of Klang Festival – Copenhagen Experimental Music. Originally from Bristol, England, they moved to Copenhagen in 2013. Black's works have attracted a large amount of attention both nationally and internationally for their signature combination of artistic courage and vulnerability, described by the Danish Arts Council as »a universe of real madness where everything goes«. Their work is a deep and personal exploration of topics such as religion, loss, and queer identity, that is unafraid to be stupid or serious in any direction.

© Christian Klintholm

»Music is just something for me.«

Christian Juncker is a Danish musician and songwriter who has released a number of Danish-language albums. He debuted in 1995 with the band Bloom. Together with his friend Jakob Groth Bastiansen, he formed the duo Juncker in 2002. He is also behind the Christmas carol »Luk julefreden ind« from 2024.

© Guy Wasserman

»Music, for me, reveals the emptiness of boundaries and definitions – in consciousness, in space, and in music itself.«

Idan Elmalem is an oud player and composer working across world and popular music, now presenting his debut instrumental EP and live performance project. Following years of collaboration within the Israeli music scene, he turns toward a more personal and intimate musical voice, blending traditional oud with a contemporary sensibility. Influenced by his studies with master Nissim Dakwar, Elmalem’s music explores the space between tradition and innovation. His debut EP, Time, features three live-recorded pieces that move between past, present, and future, combining classical Arabic and Persian elements with jazz, minimalism, and cinematic sound. Based in Tel Aviv, Elmalem draws on his Moroccan-Danish heritage in his work. He is a graduate of the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance and is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Ethnomusicology at the University of Haifa, alongside his work as a player and composer.

© PR

On May 29, the Aalborg-based collective Datahaven9000 takes over the venue Skråen, transforming its main hall into a concentrated one-day festival of electronic music. The event is part of the concert series Bystanders #3, where the stage is handed over to local scenes rather than the venue’s in-house programming.

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© PR

Two of contemporary music’s most uncompromising material thinkers meet on Music for Intersecting Planes: the American organist Kali Malone and the French cellist Leila Bordreuil. Malone works with oversaturated blocks of sound and sonic mass as a sustained pressure, while Bordreuil seeks friction – her cello a recalcitrant organism that creaks and resists.

What they share is an ascetic attention to the specificity of their instruments. The organ and the cello are pushed to their outer limits, where recognizability dissolves and overtones emerge like hidden entities.

The title pieces, »Intersecting Planes I» and »II«, unfold as undulating ruptures of sound: animalistic, almost elephantine cries that surge forward and recede again. Only rarely can the sound be identified as organ or cello. (»Pilots in the Night« comes closest to a familiar balance between the organ’s gravity and the cello’s resistance.) Otherwise, the music moves within a field between the metallic and the electronic, as if the sound originates neither from strings nor pipes.

It is not mass that is being explored here, but rather a kind of hollowness: an airiness that is not light, but permeated by an indeterminate resonance – something ancient, almost ceremonial. The album holds something far more porous and open than Malone and Bordreuil’s earlier works. The sound appears as a concave form, bending inward, like an absence of material. The sonic landscape carries its own dissolution within it as an inherent delay – as if the music exists, first and foremost, as the erosion of something one thought one heard.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek