In brief

20.10.2023

Heavenly tape loops from the superstar of ambient music

Alice: William Basinski

Jakob Gustav Winckler. © Jakob Gustav Winckler

The only thing that might be missing was a yippie ki-yay from William Basinski when he took on the Copenhagen Distillery as part of The Last Symphony tour. »Buckle up bitches«, it sounded so raw that for a moment you thought it was Bruce Willis on stage. Basinski's riveting superstar charisma is the perfect contrast to his crumbling and self-indulgent ambient music.

The concert was refreshingly far from the extended space of contemplation I associate with Basinski's recorded works. His famous series The Disintegration Loops (2002-2003), in which the mortal world of tape loops crumbles in slow motion, was emblematic of the concerns many had around the turn of the millennium: Was the infinity of the brave new digital world actually the beginning of the end? Like no one else, Basinski manages to let the question of technological determinism sound open in his music: The patinated tape recordings contain no answer, but instead a curious state, where repetition and impermanence stop pulling at the sense of time from either side and instead come full circle.

It was fascinating to experience the way Basinski processed his loops. Every time he put a new sound into rotation, it seemed as if it was his first encounter with it. Quickly, a sucking field of reverberation and feedback arose, forming a sphere from the orbits of the tape loops. The analog sound sometimes gnawed at the music with its small clips and grinding compression.

The distance between the ambient terrains was short and the concert, which was followed by two encores, was more collage-like than the wasteland Basinski usually paints. The landscape was particularly captivating as a six-note motif consumed itself in reverberation and gave way to what sounded like Arabic ornamented chant. Basinski found transcendence in the high frequencies, and when at one point he extended a bright vocal sound beyond the murky tape environment, the boundary between heaven and earth disappeared. It was incomprehensibly beautiful to hear how the vocals hovered like a radiant deity over the profane tape-recorded world.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

Playlist

10.10

Miy name is Bjarke Niemann – would you like to see my playlist?

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.

Playlist

06.10

My name is Motis Necrojam – would you like to see my playlist?

»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.

Playlist

06.10

Mit navn er Katrine Muff – vil du se min playliste?

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

Marta Bo

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

In brieflive

02.10

A One-Way Ticket To Illiyeen, Please!

Illiyeen x Thicket

Den Frie Udstillingsbygning, 25.09

Louise Steiwer

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