© Inga Records

»For me music is life. It contains everything and carries the strongest healing powers there is.«

Mika Akim is the solo project of the viola player, composer and songwriter Mika Persdotter. The project started when Mika found a viola d'amore outside of Prague and started writing songs for it, about and for the body. Exploring open forms, minimalistic approach and mixing influences from folk music, baroque and experimenting with sound. The music is cyclic and honest. Since the project started Mika Akim has released two albums and now the third solo album feb 28 will be released on the 27th of February on Inga Records. 

Besides the solo project Mika Persdotter is an active musician in the experimental music scene as well as the contemporary and baroque fields in Copenhagen. Member of Halvcirkel, Damkapellet, Wolfskin Ensemble and Stök among others. 

In brieflive
13.02

Ash in the Ear

Farvel & Peter Laugesen
© PR
© PR

There was something liberating about watching 83-year-old Peter Laugesen step onto the stage at Phono with a new band and not a trace of nostalgia. There was no hint of a poetic lap of honour. But plenty of noise. The trio Farvel – Halfdan Magnus Stefansson (guitar), Gustav M.K. Lauridsen (bass) and Jens Højbøge Mosegaard (drums) – did not play politely around the poet. They laid down a massive carpet of stoner rock and free improvisation beneath him, as if the words had to be wrenched free from gravel and distortion. At first the music moved heavy and viscous. For a long time. Then it accelerated. And Laugesen accelerated with it.

He sat on a chair in the corner, leafing through his books, speaking of dawn, of children at play before they disappear, of Finnegans Wake, Winnie-the-Pooh and an irate »then thaw, for fuck’s sake.« The words did not fall in rhythm – they landed like bolts on a workshop floor. Laugesen’s baritone is still as coarse as steel wire; the Brabrand accent refuses to be polished. He played the harmonica. It sounded more than off-kilter – a twisted blues.

Farvel emerged from a jazz ambition that dissolved and found another path in the abrasive aesthetics of 1990s noise rock. It suits Laugesen. The three young musicians did not play behind him, but with him, across generations, on equal footing. This was no solemn celebration of an ageing poet. It was a workplace filled with friction. At Phono, Laugesen sang – yes, sang – the prose of life across a wall of sound. His voice cut in between the rumbling bass and the grit of the snare drum. He spoke of »ash in the ear«. You left carrying precisely that: a tremor in your hearing. When language meets resistance, it can still strike sparks.

Phono. 12.02

In briefrelease
11.02

Echoes from the Olive Trees

Mai Mai Mai: »Karakoz«
© PR
© PR

Grief is hereditary. It is collective and more than mere streams of tears – as countless generations of oppressed Palestinians can attest. On the album Karakoz, the Rome-based musician Mai Mai Mai creates a resonance of this collective sorrow and attempts to grasp the desperate hope of the Palestinian people. Not through political slogans, but through dark spiritualism and synthesizers.

Karakoz is an ancient form of shadow theatre with roots in the Ottoman Empire, and the album title serves as an omen of the musical pulse that sets in from the opening track, »Grief«. Here the music sounds like an archaic folk hymn: slow, repetitive percussion creates a tear-soaked minimalism, and the piece feels like a ceremony passed down through generations. With synthesizers slowly coiling around Maya Al Khaldi’s yearning vocals, »Grief« becomes a cultural bridge between forgotten traditions and the painfully current tragedy that today envelops Palestine in an all-consuming darkness.

Across the seven tracks, one hears trauma like a wind murmuring through the streets and among the olive trees. This may be because the album was created in collaboration with local artists and includes archival material from The Palestinian Sound Archive – an archive of decades of forgotten music, poetry, and album covers. Karakoz is a reinterpretation of Middle Eastern spiritualism and forgotten music. It is a testament to grief as lived experience, and as an archival bulwark, Karakoz thus takes part in the struggle for a free Palestine.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

Bobo Moreno. © Thomas Roger Henrichsen

»Music is an element for me, along with earth, wind, fire and water. Music is a nutrient that is part of my personal food pyramid, along with cheese, eggs and tomatoes. Music is a relationship in my life that is just as important as the people I have around me. Music is like an extra organ through which I perceive the world.« 

Growing up surrounded by his parents’ eclectic record collection, Bobo Moreno developed a love for music across genres. Named after his stepfather, jazz and rock bassist Bo Stief, Bobo started out on the electric bass before, at the age of 22, finding his true instrument – ​​his voice. Self-taught, he developed his craft through countless live performances and garnered recognition for his expressive voice and stylistic range. His national breakthrough came with the pop duo Peaches & Bobo in 1993. After decades of performing, at the age of 60, Bobo now releases Missing Pieces – his deeply personal debut album, reflecting a life of musical exploration and self-discovery, while marking a new chapter in a lifelong musical journey.

© PR

»For me, music is a secret safe place. It is a refuge from society, from who you're expected to be, and from the idea of belonging. It is a space where you're free from conflict and dualistic ways of thinking. It is a place to feel the world without needing to understand it.«

Masaya Ozaki is a composer born in Niigata, Japan. His work is deeply influenced by the transient nature of space and the subtleties of sound within physical environments.  Ozaki views sound not just as a medium, but as a form deeply intertwined with the spaces it inhabits, something that he explores extensively in site-specific projects like Echoes, which involved live performances inside a lighthouse. 

Ozaki’s latest album, Mizukara (2024), is a reflection of his personal and artistic journey, primarily shaped by his experiences in Iceland. The album embraces minimalism and introspection, incorporating field recordings, sparse instrumentals, and the textures of the Icelandic landscape to explore the fluid relationship between self and environment. In recent interviews, he emphasized his shift from purely sound-based compositions to ones that deeply consider the environment and space. His relocation to Iceland has profoundly influenced his work, encouraging him to further merge the boundaries between music, nature, and architecture.  He is also a member of the Reykjavík-based emo anime doom metal band MC Myasnoi.

© Julie Montauk

»For me, music is a journey through time; one song can send you back to a childhood summer, a packed dance floor, a breakup – or a sense of hope you thought you had given up.« 

Danish-Corsican Malu Pierini has created her own musical universe somewhere between Copenhagen, Corsica and 1960s Paris. Here, Nordic soul/pop and French chanson meet as she draws threads to her family’s roots in the Parisian cabaret scene, the raw beauty of the Mediterranean and stories that bridge the gap between past and present. Pierini has just released her debut album Libera Me – a cinematic and personal journey into family history and an examination of what we carry with us from those who came before us. The album unites French 60s sounds, bossa references, Corsican folk tunes and indie pop in a story of love, heritage and identity.