Goodiepal udstiller for tiden på Andersen’s Contemporary. Udstillingen tager udgangspunkt i hans nye bog El Camino Del Hardcore – Rejsen Til Nordens Indre og i dag spiller han på Blågårdens Bibliotek. Seismograf har mødt ham til et kort interview om musik, der ikke er der længere - om viden, der bare kopieres - og om hvordan kunst- og musikscenerne smelter sammen.

Du har udgivet en bog: El Camino Del Hardcore – Rejsen Til Nordens Indre. Hvad handler den om?

”Den handler om musik. Simpelthen.”

Hvordan?

”Den handler om alting - forstået på den måde, at jeg har jo skrevet alt hvad jeg ved i den bog. Så er der sikkert noget jeg ved, som jeg ikke har skrevet i bogen – og noget jeg ikke ved, som jeg også har skrevet i bogen. Den handler om hvad man kan gøre efter Radikal Computermusik – men den er jo skrevet mens jeg kørte rundt i store dele af verden på cykel, så det er også lidt en rejsebeskrivelse.

Der er skrevet utroligt meget musik ind i bogen, så man kunne godt kalde det samling nye værker. Men det, der er specielt ved de værker er, at mange af dem ikke længere er eksisterende. I bogen hører man hele tiden om værker, der af den ene eller den anden grund ikke længere findes – de er måske faldet sammen, eller forsvundet eller noget helt tredje. Det er fordi jeg mener, at de store komponister er døde. I dag er man nødt til at pakke sin musik ind på en anden måde, så derfor handler bogen også om at kryptere. Der er utrolig meget viden, der er krypteret i bogen.

Det hænger også sammen med at folk efterhånden bare citerer og citerer. Vi har Wikipedia som det bedste eksempel. Det er jo ikke svært at vide noget om kvantefysik, det kan man læse på Wikipedia – men det er svært at sige noget nyt om kvantefysik. For eksempel den der ’videnskunst’, der bliver lavet nu, den byder jo ikke på ny viden.”

Du har været væk et stykke tid og nu er du tilbage – hvorfor det?

”Jeg har altid kommet lidt tilbage - og jeg er heller ikke kommet mere tilbage end som så. Men nu har jeg jo en udstilling i Danmark på Andersen’s Contemporary. Bogen har sådan set været ude et stykke tid, men det kræver en udstilling i Danmark, før der er nogen der gider at forholde sig til, at jeg har lavet en bog. Faktisk har jeg været i Danmark ind imellem hele tiden. Jeg lå med et brækket ben i tre måneder i Danmark for et års tid siden.”

For mig at se har du i de senere år nærmet dig galleriscenen. Er det en mere interessant scene for dig end musikmiljøet?

”De hænger sammen. Det bliver sværere og sværere at skelne det ene fra det andet. Det er stadig musik det handler om. Jeg har beskæftiget med musik, der har været så højtravende, at den danske musikverden ikke gider at røre ved det. I rytmiske musikkredse har jeg nærmest været hadet – mens kunstkredsene har sagt: ”Nej, hvor spændende”. Så jeg er gået derhen hvor der har været interesse. På den måde er det jo virkelig rock’n’roll – jeg er bare taget derhen, hvor det næste gig har været. Men jeg kan da godt se på de folk der kom til udstillingsåbningen, at nu var det langt væk fra musikmiljøet. Nu var det kunstnerne og alle forfatterne – der var simpelthen ikke en komponist eller rytmisk musiker til stede. Og på den måde må jeg erkende, at mit popmusikertække er faldende.

Men der er sket en interessant udvikling over de sidste 15 år. For eksempel sidder der i dag rigtig mange på kunstakademierne, der arbejder med lyd, og i de seneste par år har der også været mange installatoriske ting på musikscenen. Så det er beskrivende for hvor det hele er ved at bevæge sig hen, og det er mere en tendens end det har noget med mig at gøre. Måske er to højttalere og konceptalbummets dage bare talte. Jeg synes langt de fleste musikere har referencer, der peger tilbage, og derfor peger på noget der i bund og grund er uopnåeligt. Og det er måske lidt svært for musikken at acceptere, at det er sådan. Men jeg er ikke den eneste, der beskæftiger sig med musik, som er røget over mod galleriscenen. Så i stedet for at tale om et personligt opgør, vil jeg hellere se det som en tendens. Der vil jo altid være en brydning de forskellige kunstarter imellem. Der er altid en ping-pong.”

I dag kl. 17 skal du så optræde på Blågårdens bibliotek – hvad kan vi forvente os af det?

”Jeg præsenterer bogen – og så spiller jeg nogle af de værker der ikke findes mere – som musik. Og så kan man vel låne bogen, nu man er på biblioteket.”

© Malthe Ivarsson

»Music is where my heart is. The place where I feel the most freedom and possibility to express myself. It's also the place I seek to when I need to calm down.«

Anna Roemer is a Danish guitarist and composer from South Zealand, now based in Copenhagen. She has performed with artists like Hannah Schneider, Jacob Bellens, and Guldimund. Together with saxophonist Cecilie Strange, she forms the acclaimed duo K A L E II D O, known for music that constantly evolves. The duo has received national and international praise and won the Carl Prize for »Jazz Composer of the Year« for their albums Elements and Places (2024).

in brieflive
02.06

Not the Royal Rock Star We Might Have Wished For

David M. A. P. Palmquist: »King Frederik X’s Honour March«
© Kongehuset
© Kongehuset

Surely, I can’t be the only one who nearly choked on my oyster on New Year’s Eve, when King Frederik X delivered his first New Year’s speech. What a modern take on the old tradition! Instead of sitting solemnly at a desk, he calmly walked into the room – a room demanding attention, where a futuristic mural stole the show. I could barely focus on the speech itself, distracted by the psychedelic imagery behind him: a visual nod to Yellow Submarine by The Beatles. Was this a sign of a rock star ascending the throne?

Wishful thinking, as it turned out. The speech turned into a parade of predictable platitudes. The same can be said about the King’s new Honour March, composed by David M. A. P. Palmquist, former conductor of the Royal Danish Life Guards Music Corps. A traditional and sluggish piece that plays it entirely by the book.

Since H.C. Lumbye gifted a march to Frederik VII in 1861, it has been a tradition for members of the royal family to be granted personal marches. Take the lively and self-ironic Parade March for Queen Margrethe, which includes quotes from both »I Danmark er jeg født« and »Daisy Bell«. Or Crown Prince Frederik’s brisk and quirky Honour March in 6/8 time – written by Fuzzy for the now-King’s 30th birthday – tipping its hat to Carl Nielsen’s »Som en rejselysten flåde«.

But where is the personal character in Palmquist’s march? The composer approaches the task far too conceptually, attempting to give the piece a musical signature with a kind of rebus at the beginning. The first note is an F, followed by one ten steps higher – thus spelling »Frederik the 10th« in musical code. The many references to other military music are just as internal. What’s missing is something that breaks with protocol – just like King Frederik himself has done in his most memorable and beloved moments. In the end, it sounds like a march that has forgotten who it was written for.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek. Proofreading: Seb Doubinsky

© Clement Beauvais

»Music exploration and creation is not limited to notes, timbres and traditional structures, but extends to everything that shapes the listening experience.«

Alexandre Bazin is a French musician, and documentary producer, active in the experimental music scene at the fringes of GRM. His music is published by Important Records, Umor Rex Records, and Constructive. Bazin began his musical journey early, first studying classical piano at the conservatory before exploring jazz and electroacoustic music. The study of other musical languages has opened new perspectives and led him to rethink music beyond its traditional structures. He discovered a world where sound becomes raw material, and where production plays an essential part. This exploration revealed to him that music creation transcends notes and timbres, encompassing all elements that shape the listening experience, with sound engineering playing a pivotal function in this process. Bazin produces monthly documentaries for Radio France and GRM (Groupe de Recherches Musicales), chronicling the history of the experimental scene from its origins to the present.

 

in brieflive
27.05

When Orpheus Turns His Head

O Future: »Enter Afterlife«
© PR
© PR

Thorvaldsens Museum is a fitting place to unfold a narrative about the soul’s journey to the underworld. Not only are the halls filled with depictions of Greek mythology, the museum itself is a kind of mausoleum, with Bertel Thorvaldsen’s grave situated at the heart of an inner courtyard. Everything should align perfectly when the multimedia duo O Future stages the descent into Hades through sound and animated video projections. But it doesn’t.

Through eight rooms and five sound works, we move from the banks of the River Styx, through the underworld, and finally to Elysium, where the blissful afterlife awaits. Along the way, we are confronted with judgment, choice, and struggle – existential themes played out on the grandest scale. The electronic soundscape, delivered through headphones, begins with a simmering, oppressive digital lament and accelerates through the rooms to a heavy electronic beat layered with symphonic undertones. We hear jazzy saxophones, looped synths, and white noise, before safely arriving in a spherical, almost sacred, digital choir.

There’s an intriguing theme in the collision between digital voices and the idea of death, but it is drowned out by the many loose ends of the exhibition. Why, for instance, is there no synchronicity between sound and visuals? Why are videos consistently projected onto sculptures that bear no relation to Greek mythology? And why the oddly synthetic color palette that evokes 1990s MTV more than it does the vast drama the story seeks to evoke? I hurriedly close my eyes and try to focus on the beat – but it’s too late. Orpheus has turned his head, and Eurydice is lost. So is this exhibition.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

in brieflive
24.05

The Electronic Altar

 Fascia, Soli City, Nagaver
© PR
© PR

The table is a practical prop at most electronic music concerts. It has almost become a symbol of how electronic music is denied the same expressive, physical gestural language as acoustic music. This rigid symbolism was thankfully broken when the concert network Up Node hosted a showcase evening at Alice, featuring three emerging experimental electronic artists from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.

The MacBook stood enthroned like an altar as Swedish artist Fascia opened the evening, holding a blinking flashlight above her head – each flash triggering brutal bursts of noise. When she placed a webcam in her mouth and projected the table’s mysterious objects onto the screen behind her, the boundary between stage and audience dissolved through simple yet cunning technology.

Next to his MIDI keyboard, Danish artist Soli City had his trademark moving-head lamp. Like a robotic head, the lamp lit up and rotated in sync with epic crescendos and computerized voices. Soli City’s music is built around field recordings and classical instrumentation – strings and piano – forming a universe that exposes the tension between human and technology. The animated lamp and dramatic light show took centre stage, while composer Harald Bjørn stood like a hidden puppeteer, gently guiding the futuristic narrative forward.

The table in front of Norwegian artist Nagaver had been laid flat on the stage floor, forming a low wall. Behind it knelt Ilavenil Vasuky Jayapalan, who unleashed hard-hitting, dark rhythms from a DJ mixer, enveloping Alice in a transcendent haze. The concert evolved from driving trance into a kind of karaoke performance, with Jayapalan singing over dusty tracks—and unfortunately the music felt more like a run-through than a fully realized concert.

Behind the table lie untapped potentials for auditory innovation, but practical constraints often limit performative expression. The concerts by Fascia and Soli City succeeded in breaking the boundary between mere execution and true performance, reminding us that not all music needs to be presented with the same gestures – and that sometimes all it takes is a webcam and a laser lamp to make that clear.