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

På sit foregående album, Renewal Manifestation, lod Calum Builder Mariendal Kirkes orgel brage frem som en imposant hovedrolle. Nu vender han tilbage med et værk, hvor det samme instrument ikke blot bærer fortællingen, men er hele fortællingen – i skikkelse af »the (Re)constructed Pipe Organ«, et orgel han selv har samlet af kasserede piber og mekanik fra danske kirker.

Det er et fascinerende projekt, men hvad med musikken? Det er en blandet fornøjelse. De tre indledende numre, der tilsammen udgør et titelnummer, samt »sometimes, I wonder« er højdepunkterne. Det hjemmebyggede orgel bølger under Builders anslag på tangenterne, frekvenser som bakker og dale i konstant fluks. Instrumentet tuder som en efterårsvind i træerne, mens under- og overtoner knejser som bautasten, inden de ramler ind i hinanden. Builders talent for dramatisk sangskrivning kommer til udtryk i disse numre i miniformat – og det til trods for instrumentets hørbare begrænsninger.

Anderledes går det desværre i flere af de øvrige numre, som »cicadas_nighttimesound« og »Pacific«. De fremstår mere som skitser – som demonstrationer af orgelets muligheder – end som egentlige, gennemarbejdede kompositioner. Ideerne står stille og gentages, og meget lidt flytter sig. De forventede forskydninger og forløsninger udebliver. På Poor_in_Spirit eksperimenterer Builder tydeligt med form og funktion, og det er i sig selv interessant. Men jeg savner det liv og den dramaturgi, der ellers er kernen i hans musik.

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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

Amranthen er et særpræget strengeinstrument, opfundet og bygget af den canadiske instrumentmager Gayle Young. Det består af en trækasse med 21 stålstrenge og tre basstrenge, og dens unikke, organiske klang udfoldes på udgivelsen From Grimsby to Milan, hvor Young improviserer med den amerikanske musiker Robert Wheeler på synthesizer. Optagelserne fra Grant Avenue Studios indfanger mødet mellem det akustiske og det elektroniske i et løst formet, råt forløb.

De næsten 70 minutter fordelt på seks dele giver lytteren en konstant uafklaret oplevelse. Lydbilledet fremstår som en larmende, dystopisk byggeplads: På »Seaweed Slowly Shifting« stryges buer med savlignende klang, fingre kradser, maskiner snurrer, og elektroniske zaps blinker som advarselslys. Senere føjes klokker og pulserende rytmer til i »Mariana Trench«, mens »Consonant Harmony« trækker tempoet ned i en afdæmpet, knitrende atmosfære, hvor få melodiske anslag antyder et midlertidigt ophør i tumulten.

Byggepladsmetaforen er passende, for det mest interessante ville formentlig være at opleve Youngs hjemmebyggede instrumenter live i dialog med elektronikken. Som lydoptagelse forbliver projektet derimod en lukket og indforstået affære. Og selv om From Grimsby to Milan rummer mange fine detaljer, bliver rejsen – fra Grimsby i Canada til Milan i Ohio – lang og ensformig, uden at lytteren får nøglen til at åbne porten til den dystopiske byggeplads.

Back in the day, people watched Beverly Hills 90210 simply because it filled the flow-TV schedule. Artist Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard, too, spent his youth wandering through those virtual Californian landscapes. In the project Fata Morgana, Løkkegaard and American composer Michael Pisaro-Liu explore this strange experience between place and fiction. With the alto recorder as their weapon, they invite us both home and away. And, as a nostalgic homage to bygone media realities, the project comes with an A-side and a B-side. It begins with »Visit«: the crackle of forest floor near Løkkegaard’s childhood home in western Jutland, recorded in 2021. The microphone is placed somewhere, a few steps are taken – and then silence... Far away, the alto recorder begins a melody surrounded by birdsong. This homely soundscape is woven into the listener’s own sense of place. Was that a car driving by – here? Or there?

On the B-side, »Visitation«, Pisaro-Liu repositions the flute piece in California in 2024. The tension rises; the melody is visited and haunted from the other side of the globe. It is disturbed and distorted by electric signals, siren tones, interfering noise, and fragments of American voices murmuring things about »fever dream« and »not anything in particular.«

For indeed, there isn’t really anything. It’s classic Løkkegaard: an imagined world unfolding in the listener’s mind. It could have been done in less than 2x22 minutes, but the idea is strong, simple, and well executed. Like the sonic version of a cartoon mirage shimmering falsely in the sharp Californian sunlight.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek