On his previous album, Renewal Manifestation, Calum Builder let the organ of Mariendal Church roar forth as an imposing protagonist. Now he returns with a work in which the same instrument not only carries the narrative but is the entire narrative – in the form of »the (Re)constructed Pipe Organ«, an organ he has assembled himself from discarded pipes and mechanics salvaged from Danish churches.

It’s a fascinating project, but what about the music? It’s a mixed experience. The three opening tracks, which together form the title piece, as well as »sometimes, I wonder«, are the highlights. The homemade organ surges beneath Builder’s touch on the keys, its frequencies rising and falling like hills and valleys in constant flux. The instrument howls like an autumn wind in the trees, while under- and overtones stand tall like runestones before crashing into each other. Builder’s talent for dramatic songwriting emerges in these miniature pieces – despite the instrument’s audible limitations.

Unfortunately, things unfold differently in several of the other tracks, such as »cicadas_nighttimesound« and »Pacific«. They appear more like sketches – demonstrations of the organ’s possibilities – than fully realised compositions. Ideas remain static and repeated, with very little development. The expected shifts and resolutions never arrive. On Poor_in_Spirit, Builder is clearly experimenting with form and function, and that in itself is interesting. But I miss the vitality and dramaturgy that are otherwise the core of his music.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

The Amranthen is a peculiar string instrument, invented and built by Canadian instrument maker Gayle Young. It consists of a wooden box fitted with 21 steel strings and three bass strings, and its unique, organic timbre unfolds on From Grimsby to Milan, where Young improvises alongside American musician Robert Wheeler on synthesizer. The recordings from Grant Avenue Studios capture the encounter between the acoustic and the electronic in a loosely shaped, raw musical flow.

Across nearly 70 minutes divided into six parts, the listener is kept in a state of constant uncertainty. The sonic landscape resembles a noisy, dystopian construction site: on »Seaweed Slowly Shifting«, bows are drawn with a saw-like rasp, fingers scratch, machines whirr, and sharp electronic zaps flash like warning lights. Later, bells and pulse-like rhythms enter on »Mariana Trench«, while »Consonant Harmony« slows the pace, settling into a subdued, crackling atmosphere where sparse melodic gestures suggest a momentary lull in the turmoil.

The construction-site metaphor fits well, for the most compelling version of this project would likely be to experience Young’s handmade instruments live, in direct dialogue with Wheeler’s electronics. As an audio recording, however, the project remains closed-off and somewhat insular. And although From Grimsby to Milan contains a wealth of fine detail, the journey – from Grimsby in Canada to Milan in Ohio – ultimately feels long and monotonous, without ever offering the listener the key to unlock its dystopian worksite.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

It seemed to come like a bolt from the blue when the Icelandic cellist and composer Hildur Guðnadóttir broke the sound barrier with an uncompromising, inward-looking sound situated between contemporary classical and experimental music – most widely recognised through her suffocating soundtracks for Chernobyl and Joker.

Yet on her Deutsche Grammophon debut Where to From, it is the personal spaces we are invited into. The instrumentation is pared right back to a chamber ensemble, voices, and extended passages of near-absolute silence. The result is often achingly beautiful – and deeply affecting.

The work unfolds in small vignettes, rarely lasting more than a couple of minutes, before vocals are introduced in the album’s second half – most notably in »Make Space« and the exquisite a cappella hymn »I Hold Close«. The equally beautiful »Melody of Not Knowing« explores the cello’s darkest registers, striking blue midnight tones in the echo of the heart, especially as it glides into »All Along«, where voice and strings merge.

Where to From is a powerfully mood-saturated work that moves effortlessly between chamber music and neoclassicism, finding its uncompromising character in the quietest, most intimate sighs between human and instrument. It is neither too little nor too much – always precisely measured. And for that very reason, Guðnadóttir remains such a compelling musical presence.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek