Det danske sommervejr minder os – på godt og ondt – om, at det er tid til at holde fri og koble af. Ferien er oplagt til at få læst og lyttet til nogle af de ting, der måske ikke er tid til i en travl hverdag, og her bidrager Seismograf med en god stak indhold til lidt digital sommerfordybelse. Vi holder lukket i juli, men går ikke på ferie uden at sikre os, at der er masser af lytte- og læsestof på både dansk og engelsk til at holde hele sommeren.

Komponister på scenen
Du kan starte med at fordybe dig i 
vores seneste engelsksprogede fokus, der under overskriften Composer/Performer gennem syv artikler beskæftiger sig med komponister, der går på scenen og tilfører musikken nye performative aspekter såvel som en indbygget udforskning og genovervejelse af komponistens rolle. Fokusset udspringer af et forskningsprojekt anført af Sanne Krogh Groth, der også har redigeret fokusset, og de grunlæggende idéer opridses og diskuteres i hendes egen artikel. Norske Trond Reinholdtsen reflekterer over det 20. århundredes komponister, idet han præsenterer sit énmandsprojekt The Norwegian Opera. Juliana Hodkinson genbesøger en personlig krise i sin tekst, mens Niels Rønsholdt identificerer sig med lytteren, når han positionerer sig som fremmed i forhold til sin egen musik. Den femte artikel er en transkriberet paneldebat mellem Louise AleniusKristian Hverring og Simon Steen-Andersen fra Nordic Music Days i Reykjavik. Alenius er tilmed omdrejningspunktet for en artikel af Torben Sangild, som har oplevet en én-til-én-koncert med komponisten i sit soveværelse, der midlertidigt blev omdannet til koncertsal. Musiker, komponist og forsker Henrik Frisk afslutter med at undersøge mulighederne i det amatøristiske aspekt ved komponister, der går på scenen og påtager sig musikalske opgaver, de ikke er skolede til.

Lyt Dybt
Vores podcast Lyt Dybt har netop afsluttet sin første sæson, og der er sammenlagt 15 afsnit om alt fra undervandsoptagelser og hverdagslyd til voksvalser, midi-violiner og lyttemeditation, som du kan give dig hen til, hvis du ikke allerede har gjort det. De seneste afsnit er en del af den serie, vi kalder 
Lyden af planeten Jorden, som helliger sig fænomenet The Voyager Golden Records – to guld-LP'er indeholdende musik og lyde fra vores klode, som blev sendt ud i det interstellare rum i 1977.
I serien møder vi lektor og kunstner Jenny Gräf, mediearkæolog Jussi Parikka, forfattersaxofonist TS Høeg samt kurator og NASA-buff Jacob Lillemose, der alle forholder sig til dét at sende jordlyde ud i rummet.
Søg på Lyt Dybt i din podcast-app eller lyt med her på siden.

Senest på seismograf.org

»Hvis man præsenterer noget meningsløst vrøvl, sker der ingenting.« Søren Møller Sørensen mødte ved et tilfælde en af sine bekendte på et konditori i Cairo – den egyptiske komponist Bahaa El-Ansary. Det kom der et spændende interview ud af.

»Det umiddelbare indtryk af mødet med værkerne forandredes gradvist, og efter et stykke tid udvikler udstillingen sig i retning mod det, jeg opfatter som kernen i de fleste af Norments værker; arbejdet med materialer og titler, hvor lyd ofte er et grundelement.« Andreas Engström anmelder Camille Norments aktuelle udstilling på Oslo Kunstforening.

»Struer Tracks er på mange måder godt nyt for den danske lydkunstscene. Åbningsweekenden tegner i hvert fald et billede af en forfriskende uformel og særdeles vedkommende formidling af et meget bredt udsnit af lydkunst anno 2017.« Jakob Gustav Winckler har besøgt Danmarks eneste festival for stedsspecifik lydkunst, Struer Tracks.

Fik du vist, hvem komponisten Allan er? »Det er det, jeg er lidt i tvivl om. Derfor ville lidt mere musik have været godt,« siger han. »Men personen Allan var der – for første gang.« Læs Sune Anderbergs portrætinterview med debutanten Allan Gravgaard Madsen.

in brieflive
26.08.2024

Hooray! The Big Questions Are Still Alive in Opera

Copenhagen Opera Festival: Rolf Hind, Dante Micheaux and Jalal al-Din Rumi, Frederic Wake-Walker, Elaine Mitchener, James Hall, Yannis François, Loré Lixenberg a.o.: »Sky in a Small Cage«
© Ida Guldbæk Arentsen
© Ida Guldbæk Arentsen

If one had come to believe that new opera could only be starkly realistic portrayals of the world’s decay, Sky in a Small Cage at the Copenhagen Opera Festival would quickly prompt a rethink. The festival’s final work pointed in a completely different direction: mysticism, hope, love. All clichés, perhaps – but absolutely not in the hands of composer Rolf Hind and librettist Dante Micheaux. Together they have spun a truly astonishing opera about the Sufi poet Jalal al-Din Rumi.

It was as much the enchantment of Rumi’s poetry as the myth of the poet himself that drove the work. In fact, it was exhilaratingly difficult to distinguish between poetry and reality: the character Rumi became the object of his own grand poetic art. »It might as well be called a death: the gate you must go through to enter yourself or beloved,« sang a narrator-like figure at the outset. Love, one understood, is a self-annihilating transgression – a threshold phenomenon that at times demands its sacrifices.

This dreamlike doubleness served as a guiding principle throughout the performance. It was a pleasure to hear mysticism unfold in the music, which was phenomenally orchestrated with dripping gamelan bells and singing bowls, double harps, celebratory piano, and more pounding toms than Lars Ulrich would dare to dream of.

And what about the bird, the cage, and the idea of freedom? In Sky in a Small Cage, freedom was not a matter of opening the cage and setting the bird free. It was located in the very act of calling – in song, music, and poetry – as a reaching out toward the other in a kind of intoxication of love. Oh yes, the big questions are still alive in opera. Thank God.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

© PR

»Music has always provided me with a clear pathway on which to navigate a meaningful life. It is imbued with a set of noble intentions that have taught me important lessons: the art of giving and receiving, how to grapple with the ever-shifting forces of tension and peace, what it is to trust the people who surround you, and the ability to let go.«

The Irish-born, Denmark-based composer-musician Carolyn Goodwin is a clarinetist and saxophonist, and the founder of Copenhagen Clarinet Choir. Her compositional work is driven by a desire to explore new frontiers in ensemble playing, bringing body and movement to the forefront, and combining the freedom of improvised music with her foundation in classical music. Goodwin's 2022 release with the Copenhagen Clarinet Choir, Organism, on the År & Dag label, has been described as »cranio-sacral therapy for the ear« and »a perfect cross between intelligent and sensory music.« It is these sound and performance parameters that have inspired composers like Marcela Lucatelli, Greta Eacott, and Anders Lauge Meldgaard to compose music for Goodwin’s ensemble.

Goodwin is a member of the trio Coriolis, alongside fellow saxophonists Maria Dybbroe and Nana-Pi Aabo Kim, as well as Jason Dungan’s Blue Lake project. She is also part of the musician collective Barefoot Records.

 

© Beowulf Sheehan

»Music is limitless, and its potential for meaning is infinite. This is neither good nor bad, but simply an acknowledgement that music is one kind of expression of any given culture (with many other inputs, of which I am mostly ignorant). From that perspective, I suppose then that music is just another medium through which I try to understand another human and/or the culture that they exist(ed) in, and more deeply feel the interconnectedness of the world that we live in, that we have inherited, and that we will pass on.«

Currently the only musician ever to receive two Avery Fisher Career Grants – in 2016 as a soloist and in 2019 as a member of the JACK Quartet – cellist Jay Campbell has brought his eclectic artistic interests both as a performer and curator to the New York Philharmonic, Deutsche-Symphonie Orchester, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Seattle Symphony, Ojai Festival, Lucerne Festival and many others. Deeply committed to collaborative music, Jay is a member of the JACK Quartet, as well as the Junction Triowith violinist Stefan Jackiw and composer/pianist Conrad Tao, multidisciplinary artist collective AMOC, and frequently works with composers and performers like Helmut Lachenmann, Patricia Kopatchinskaja, Barbara Hannigan, John Zorn, Tyshawn Sorey, and many more from his own generation. 

in brieflive
05.07.2024

A World of Contrasts – and a Touch of Smurf Vocals

Roskilde Festival: Slauson Malone 1
© PR

The cello is everywhere at this year’s Roskilde Festival. Some use it as just about anything else – hey, now it’s an electric bass, or how about a keyboard drowned in effects – but in American Jasper Marsalis’ Marcela Lucatelli-worthy bomb project Slauson Malone 1, the cello was actually used as, well, a cello.

Marsalis himself handled vocals and electric guitar on the open Platform stage, while Nicholas Wetherell opened the concert with a motor-race assault on his amplified cello, then pivoted into plucked meditations, to which Marsalis contributed overtone playing on guitar. Sensitive jazz guys? Nope – suddenly: synchronized noise sprints, intimacy splintered, and before long Marsalis threw himself into the seated audience with a somersault – and a scream.

Meanwhile, Wetherell played tender vibratos. Because contrasts thrive at Roskilde – and, after all, seem to be driving the world forward these days. And so it was the world itself that came into focus in the music: through violent shifts between 8-bit Smurf vocals, ambient gnawing solo cello, intimate indie layered over a one-second sample of Cher – culminating in a wistful lullaby veiled in digital theremin.

In many ways, it was peak hipster era. But it was also intensely moving – something like following Mahler out on the edge of the abyss as he tried to sketch the whole world into his scores. The only difference: the easel looks a bit different today.

© Kristoffer Juel Poulsen
© Kristoffer Juel Poulsen

It is not the first time Selvhenter have shown Roskilde how a saxophone can scream. Even the most avant-garde-ready listeners were left gasping for air. It was hard not to let your own lungs empathise with the long passages and unruly energy that the experimental Copenhagen quartet excelled in, wielding an instrumentarium consisting of two drum kits, synth, trombone, saxophone and assorted extras.

And the more the band – positioned in the centre of the Avalon tent, surrounded by the audience – wove their collective patchwork carpet, the more the individual character of the instruments was erased. Selvhenter could just as well have been playing entirely different instruments. You could see Sonja LaBianca standing there, forcing tones out of a wind instrument, yet it sounded more like a harp from outer space. It was astonishing how her saxophone fanfares resembled distress signals beamed into the cosmos. Meanwhile, the drums drove very grounded rhythms: Steve Reich-like pulses colliding with freer passages.

Selvhenter inflated the tent with full-fat punked and jazzy noise. Without pauses (not even when a snare drum went dead and had to be replaced mid-set) and without water for the crowd. Being so close to the musicians was a plus; on their small central stage they looked like giants in a battle arena. This was new music that was deeply physical. For about an hour we breathed together (and perhaps even sweated?) in sync. And it is profoundly good to do something together at a festival.

Selvhenter on the Orange Stage next year. Come on!