- Mikkel Schou at his Debut Concert. © The Royal Danish Academy of Music16/3/2021
Doing it anyway
Mikkel Schou: Debut Concert I-IISchou is a powerhouse – unafraid to try new things, push himself in new directions, and pull us all along with him. We sorely need this energy, and we are lucky to have Schou and his do-it-anyway attitude.
But sometimes do-it-anyway needs tempering a little. Schou spoke about how he prepared this concert without guidance from his teachers. Brave, but I missed a guiding hand, a sharper focus. Both concerts were too long, and not always coherent. I sensed an artist who has defined himself by who he isn’t, but not yet by who he is.
Still, there were glimpses of a unique personality. Stefan Prins’ Generation Kill was an odd choice to start a debut concert with – Schou’s back was facing the audience, and the piece did little to highlight his skills as a performer (I also hated the piece, but that’s a personal matter). So I’m going to pretend that the concert started with Johannes Kreidler’s Guitar Piece – a vile little video-nasty to which Schou fully committed. A perfect manifesto – the absolute nerve of presenting two years of soloist class education by eating your guitar. I wish we’d had more of this playfulness.
But the energy sagged with a disparate selection of pieces that seemed more like a composer class concert than a presentation of a fresh artistic profile. Props to Schou for this – using your debut concert to focus on younger composers is bold, and should be celebrated. I just wish we’d had more Schou. My highlight was Emil Vijgen’s Photobooth Study, where Schou got to engage with his instrument in a different way, let loose a little, and be a soloist.
Schou may present himself as a force of nature, and he is, but there is an air of sensitivity (reticence, even) to his presence that does not always match up with the pieces being performed. Rob Durnin’s What, de facto could have benefitted from some more ‘fuck you’ attitude – the performance was oddly shy.
The late-night concert’s improvisation was fun: it’s always a joy to see Marcela Lucatelli and Henrik Olsson improvise (although Schou was the clear third wheel). However, the concert was overlong, and did not add much to Schou’s profile. I get that he wanted to show more sides of himself, but, again, it came at the expense of focus. Replacing Esben Nordborg Møller’s bloated Drones with Sarah Nemtsov’s lounge-jazz tinged Seven Colours from earlier would both shorten the concerts and sharpen the intention.
But these things are matters of polish. Schou is a rare and exceptional artist, and deserves accolades for his work and for these concerts. With more confidence and time to refine his vision, there is no doubt that Schou will be an essential fixture on the new music scene for years to come.
- © David Stjernholm4/7/2025
Composition for Stone Walls
Cisternerne: Bjarke Mogensen – concert in the exhibition »Psychosphere«The contrast is striking when, on the hottest day of the year, you step down from the green lawns of Søndermarken into the underground world of the Cisterns, Copenhagen’s old water reservoir. The humidity is high, the light sparse, and stalactites hang from the vaulted ceilings, casting shadows in the puddles on the floor. And then there is the sound: in the empty columned halls, the reverberation can last up to 17 seconds. Even the slightest scrape echoes down here.
Since 2016, the Cisterns have functioned as an exhibition space, and this year Jakob Kudsk Steensen has transformed the halls into an underwater landscape of video projections, sculptural objects, and a soundscape created by Lugh O’Neill featuring Bjarke Mogensen on accordion. Mogensen, who is performing this evening, has a versatile taste. Perhaps a bit too versatile, I think to myself as I read the evening’s program, which spans from Bach to folk melodies from Bornholm. It turns out to hold together better than one might expect. These are compositions that seem to stretch time itself, where long tones – amplified and extended by the reverberation – form a murky foundation for short, pearling attacks, like marble balls ricocheting off a stone wall.
A shimmering, sorrowful composition by Nick Martin, inspired by Michelangelo’s Pietà – marble again – is followed by a meditation on echo among the cliffs of Bornholm by Frederiksberg-based composer Martin Lohse. Another piece rises slender and sacred like high vaults, while Mogensen’s own Passage crackles, snaps, and crunches like stones being broken. Mogensen’s accordion is in constant dialogue with the space; he calls, and the dark colonnades answer back – or is it the other way around?
The audience sits petrified, completely absorbed in the sound, as Mogensen masterfully makes his instrument sound like everything from a rapid breath to a thunderclap. When we finally emerge, heavy clouds hang over Søndermarken, and the heat is gone. The park feels transformed. The contrast is tangible.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
- © David Stjernholm3/7/2025
Komposition for stenvægge
Cisternerne: Bjarke Mogensen – koncert i udstillingen »Psychosphere«Kontrasten er mærkbar, når man på årets varmeste dag træder fra Søndermarkens grønne plæner ned under jorden i Cisternerne, Københavns gamle vandreservoir. Luftfugtigheden er høj, lyset sparsomt og fra hvælvinger i loftet hænger stalakitter og kaster skygger i vandpytterne på gulvet. Og så er der lyden: I de tomme søjlesale kan rumklangen vare op til 17 sekunder. Selv den mindste skraben runger hernede.
Siden 2016 har Cisternerne fungeret som udstillingsrum, og i år har Jakob Kudsk Steensen omdannet salene til et undervandslandskab af videoprojektioner, skulpturelle objekter og et soundscape skabt af Lugh O’Neill med Bjarke Mogensen på accordion. Mogensen, som giver koncert denne aften, har en alsidig smag. Måske lidt for alsidig, tænker jeg, da jeg læser programmet for aftenens koncert, der spænder fra Bach til bornholmske folkemelodier. Det skal vise sig at hænge bedre sammen, end man skulle tro. Det er kompositioner, der ligesom trækker i tiden, hvor lange toner – forstærket og forlænget af rumklangen – lægger sig som en murrende bund for helt korte, perlende anslag, som marmorkugler, der rikochetterer fra en stenvæg.
En tindrende smuk, sorgfuld komposition af Nick Martin er inspireret af Michelangelos Pieta – marmor igen – afløses af Frederiksberg-komponisten Martin Lohses meditation over ekko mellem bornholmske klipper. Et andet stykke rejser sig spinkelt og sakralt som høje hvælvinge, mens Mogensens egen Passage knitrer, smælder og knaser som sten, der bliver brudt. Det er Mogensens accordion i konstant dialog med rummet; han kalder og de mørke søjlegange svarer tilbage – eller er det omvendt?
Publikum sidder som forstenet, sunket helt ind i lyden, når Mogensen virtuost får sit instrument til at lyde som alt fra et hastigt åndedræt til et tordenskrald. Da vi kommer op igen, ligger skyerne tungt over Søndermarken, og varmen er væk. Parken er som forandret. Kontrasten er til at føle på.
- 29/6/2025
Kristine Tjøgersen Crafts Unreasonably Beautiful Eco-Poetry
Kristine Tjøgersen: »Night Lives«The wildlife of nature is both beautiful and playful – especially in Kristine Tjøgersen’s music. At the center of her new album Night Lives is the wild, unpredictable life of the night beyond the human domain. The album was created as part of the Ernst von Siemens Prize, which Tjøgersen recently received as the first Norwegian composer ever to do so.
The album is a seven-movement sonic version extracted from a staged work premiered at the Ultima Festival in 2023, and it works perfectly well as a standalone, semi-acoustic version performed by the Cikada Ensemble. The music ranges from playful, experimental, rhythmical soundscapes—full of rattling and crackling instruments – to intense, pulsating passages. Tjøgersen possesses a uniquely sensitive understanding of instrumental timbre, allowing her to morph seamlessly between acoustic and electronic worlds, cultural environments, and eras. From a simple, extended flute solo to a dancing computer universe – without blinking an eye.
Forty to fifty years ago, it was called postmodernism when old music appeared in new compositions as reused material. Back then, it made sense because many people had a mental library of historical classical music, a reflective space in which all new music was interpreted. Today, audiences’ minds are different. For example, Kristine Tjøgersen can easily use a completely straightforward Baroque movement as the album’s conclusion – serving as a starting point for music that gradually thins out and dissolves into a stunningly beautiful utopian world of acoustic strings and synthesizer. Without making you feel she is negotiating your sense of past and present. Natural sounds, imitations of nature, harmonies, and entire sequences are simply building blocks in her personal experimental lab. And what a lab it is!
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
- © Rui Camilo29/6/2025
Kristine Tjøgersen skaber urimeligt smuk økopoesi
Kristine Tjøgersen: »Night Lives«Naturens dyreliv er både smukt og legende – specielt i Kristine Tjøgersens musik. Det er nattens vilde, uforudsigelige liv uden for menneskets domæne, der står i centrum på hendes nye album Night Lives, skabt som en del af Ernst von Siemens-prisen, som Tjøgersen som den første norske komponist modtog for nylig.
Albummet er en lydversion i syv satser skåret ud af et scenisk værk på Ultima Festivalen i 2023, og det fungerer fuldstændig perfekt alene i en halvakustisk version spillet af Cikada Ensemble. Musikken spænder fra legesyge, eksperimenterende, rytmiserede lydbilleder af instrumenter der rasler og knitrer – til intense pulserende forløb. Tjøgersen har en helt speciel klangfølsom forståelse af instrumenterne, som gør, at hun kan morfe overraskende mellem akustisk og elektronisk, kulturelle miljøer og tider. Fra en enkel, langstrakt fløjtesolo til et dansende computerunivers – uden at blinke.
For 40-50 år siden kaldte man det postmodernisme, når gammel musik dukkede op i ny musik som det materiale, komponister genbrugte. Det gav mening, fordi mange dengang havde et bibliotek af historisk klassisk musik i hovedet, som et refleksionsrum alt det nye blev fortolket i. Publikums hoveder er anderledes i dag. Kristine Tjøgersen kan for eksempel sagtens bruge en helt straight baroksats som afslutning på albummet – som udgangspunkt for en musik, der tynder ud og går i stå i vanvittig smuk utopisk verden af akustiske strygere og synthesizer. Uden man tænker, at hun forhandler med publikums fornemmelse af fortid og nutid. Naturlyde, efterligninger af naturlyde, harmonier og hele sekvenser er bare byggeklodser i hendes personlige eksperimentarium. Og hvilket et!
- © Malthe Ivarsson26/6/2025
When the Experiment Becomes Tragically Beautiful
Mark Solborg & Tungemål: »Confluencia«Normally, I avoid quoting press releases directly, but this description of the intimate and multifaceted Confluencia is hard not to echo. On this album, the Danish guitarist and experimentalist has assembled a small ensemble of musicians from the borderlands between neoclassicism and jazz. The real stars of the record are pianist Simon Toldam and – especially – Susana Santos Silva, whose trumpet bleats, breathes, and scrapes against the ear. She toots in ways rarely heard in postmodern experimentalism.
Confluencia seeks to reflect modern communication – a kind of communication that ought to transcend boundaries of race, gender, and other dividing forces – through instrumental music. A form that seems to be fading day by day in a haze of misinformation, miscommunication, and mistrust. Toldam’s piano leans toward eerie dissonance, while Solborg’s guitar adds a tender, almost vulnerable tone – especially on »Southern Swag«. The music is at its strongest when the instruments converge in conversation and unison moments, such as in the strange funeral ballad »Planes«, which teeters on the edge of collapse with ghostly piano figures and diabolical chimes.
Confluencia moves between jazz, folk, ambient, and avant-garde – with a chamber-like intimacy that insists on intensity, melancholy, and reflection. What makes the album truly powerful is precisely what many experimental releases lack: space for contemplation and dialogue with the listener. Tungemål dares to be experimental without overpowering itself – and paints with a broad emotional brush, where tragedy is always lurking on the horizon.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek