Eivind Buene
10
Schuberts norske lounge
Eivind Buerne: »Schubert Lounge«
© PR
Det er altid en stor risiko at genfortolke klassiske ikoner og trække dem ind på den moderne scene, især hvis man er en prisvindende komponist og musiker af international berømmelse som fx nordmanden Eivind Buene. Klassisk musik har, som alle genrer, sin lille kreds af purister og aficionados, der er prompte til at afvise ethvert forsøg på at flytte de statuer, de elsker, ud af deres mausolæer. Og det er præcis, hvad Buene gør med sit album Schubert Lounge.
Selve titlen annoncerer en uortodoks tilgang til det berømte tyske romantiske musikgeni: en lounge er ikke ligefrem den type rum eller arkitektonisk installation, man umiddelbart ville forbinde med Franz Schubert. Men hvad Buene peger på, er, at Schuberts musik, og specifikt hans sange, de berømte lieder sunget af Kathleen Ferrier og Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, handler om intimitet, og at de kan høres i dag i den halvt oplyste komfort i en lounge, som de blev det i en salon med levende lys.
Der er ti sange på albummet, alle med deres titler på engelsk og uden det tilsvarende tyske navn. For eksempel »The Sea« og »Beautiful Moon«, som er (meget) kendte som »Am Meer« og »An Den Mond«. Selve sangene er oversat (eller tilpasset) til engelsk, hvilket gør hele projektet til et enestående musikalsk objekt, som totalt dekonstruerer musikhistoriens traditionelle fængselsmure.
Eivind Buenes stemme kan ikke sammenlignes med Ferriers eller Fischer-Dieskaus, og det forsøger den ikke engang. Ved at omarrangere harmonier i moderne dissonanser og erstatte nuancerne med en overraskende flad tone, og nogle gange skifte til sarte højere toner, fortæller Buene os, at klassisk musik ikke er, hvad vi antager, den er: et ubevægeligt monument, der bliver ved med at gentage sig selv. At gøre Schubert til en transnational komponist er et radikalt valg og et ret farligt valg, idet risikoen er at blive til grin, undgået eller, endnu værre, ignoreret. En norsk kunstner, der beslutter sig for at synge tyske lieder fra 1800-tallet oversat til engelsk i 2022 er ikke bare en handling, det er et radikalt manifest. Som Buene har skrevet i en artikel offentliggjort på nettet, »Musik er altid nu i det klingende øjeblik. Musik er på en måde en historie om ufærdigt arbejde.«
Og dette album beviser det absolut.
© PR
Danish composer Sofus Forsberg has died at the age of 56. With his distinctive blend of melodic sensibility, electronic processing and rhythmic precision, he created a musical world that moved effortlessly between IDM, pop and the avant-garde.
© Simon Weyhe
»Music for me is my hobby, my job, my outlet, my mood, an endless source of discovering new music and new, old music, some of the best and can be some of the worst. And I love it!«
Track72 aka Tue Track aka Anders Lundby Brixen. Producer, DJ, rapper and more. Known for his role in the trio Malk De Koijn, which since the mid-1990s has created a personal universe in Danish hip-hop. Has performed in Ponyblod, Xtra Naan, Track Abdullah Rock, Booty Cologne and others.
© PR
On Wednesday, 5 August 2026, it happened again: a chord in John Cage’s Organ2/ASLSP (As Slow as Possible) changed after two and a half years. Classic FM reports.
The work was written by the American avant-garde composer John Cage in the mid-1980s. The score consists of eight pages of music, and, as the title suggests, the instruction is to play it »as slow as possible.«
»What music is to me? Where have the great feelings gone?«.
Gellért Szabó is a composer, conductor and performer based in Leipzig, Germany. His work combines contemporary composition with influences from free improvisation, noise and the expressive richness of the late nineteenth century. He is the founder and artistic director of the 23-piece Ideal Orchestra, an ensemble dedicated to large-scale experimental music of sweeping emotional intensity. Alongside this work, Szabó performs internationally with his solo project Radical Radio Show, exploring symphonic textures and immersive sound worlds through a single electric guitar and live electronics. His music is driven by a search for intensity, vulnerability and uncompromising emotional expression.
A World of Silk and Sugar – Without Splinters
Marie Dahl Assembly: »Silke. Sukker. Sand«
© Christoffer Askman
From the Culture Yard in Helsingør, ships glide past Kronborg Castle through the narrow waters of the Øresund – a reminder of the trade routes that, for centuries, have carried goods, people and power between the Nordic region and the wider world. It is an apt point of departure for the Passage Festival, and for Marie Dahl's vocal work Silk. Sugar. Sand, which explores the intertwined histories of three materials.
Silk. Sugar. Sand is a vocal performance in three acts tracing the historical journeys of these materials through colonialism, the global economy and geopolitics. Five singers from Ars Nova Copenhagen perform within a minimalist scenography consisting almost entirely of coloured light and three sets of costumes that transform throughout the performance: first silk dresses, then crinoline-like structures evoking sugar loaves, and finally grey stone-like forms suggesting accumulations of sand.
The work's central device is to translate the physical properties of these materials into vocal expression. At one moment, the elasticity of silk becomes soft, flowing polyphony; at the next, a cocoon-like electronic crackle. Sugar's crystalline structure is rendered as sharp vocal attacks – brief, whip-like cracks – as well as sweet, intimate whispers, while sand creaks and rustles, resonating with a libretto about economy and domination, violence and desire.
The performance has no conventional narrative, and the five singers portray no distinct characters, moving somewhat stiffly across the stage, as performers often do when their primary focus is on the voice. Comparisons with Hotel Pro Forma's Flammenwerfer are difficult to avoid. There, the production's rigorous aesthetic was counterbalanced by C.F. Hill's wildly expressive visual universe and Blixa Bargeld's deeply vulnerable stage presence. Those qualities are missing from Marie Dahl's carefully controlled staging, which could have benefited from more of the sensitivity and chaos that also form part of Kirsten Dehlholm's artistic legacy.