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

»Virtuost dynamisk og klangligt afbalanceret – en exceptionel kammermusikalsk oplevelse«. Normalt undgår jeg at citere pressemeddelelser direkte, men denne præcisering af det intime og spraglede Confluencia er svær ikke at kopiere. Den danske guitarist og eksperimentalist har på albummet samlet et mindre ensemble af musikere fra grænselandet mellem neoklassik og jazz, hvor pladens egentlige stjerner er Simon Toldam på klaver og – især – Susana Santos Silva, hvis trompet bræger, ånder og skurrer i ørerne. Hun trutter, som der sjældent truttes, i den postmoderne eksperimentalisme.

Confluencia søger at spejle den moderne kommunikation – en kommunikation, der burde overskride grænser som race, køn og andre influenter – i instrumentalmusik. En form, der synes at svinde bort dag for dag i et virvar af misinformation, miskommunikation og mistro. Toldams klaver trækker i retning af det uhyggeligt dissonante, mens Solborgs guitar tilfører en øm, næsten sårbar nerve – især på »Southern Swag«. Stærkest står musikken, når instrumenterne mødes i samtale og unisone momenter, som i den sære begravelsesballade »Planes«, der balancerer på undergangens rand med klaverfigurer og diabolske klokkeslag.

Confluencias bevæger sig mellem jazz, folk, ambient og avantgarde – med en kammermusikalsk intimitet, der insisterer på intensitet, melankoli og refleksion. Det, der gør albummet stærkt, er netop det, mange eksperimenterende udgivelser mangler: plads til eftertanke og dialog med lytteren. Tungemål tør være eksperimenterende uden at overdøve sig selv – og maler med en bred, emotionel pensel, hvor tragedien altid lurer i horisonten.

The sea is a powerful metaphor for the nature of identity – from stormy defiance to tranquil stillness, our individual traits drift in an eternally shifting ocean. On Original Spirit, French musician Les Halles drops anchor in the mutable waters of the mind, using pan flutes and dusty echoes as his compass.

The eight tracks are deeply rooted in the enveloping world of ambient music, and from the opening piece, »Angels of Venice«, the sound washes over the listener like gentle waves. Soft, bending synth textures accompany recurring flute runs, while echoes of the past flicker by like faded Kodak moments – faint glimmers of memory in a foggy inner landscape.

The word ambient can be traced to the Latin ambire, meaning »to go around«, and the genre is thus defined by music that »surrounds« the listener. Les Halles, also known by his real name Baptiste Martin, fully embraces this quality. The music is gentle, devoid of dominant melodies or rhythms – like a safe little bubble one can freely float in.

Like much ambient music, Original Spirit is free of lyrical frames of interpretation. However, the accompanying press text frames the album as a letter, written by Baptiste Martin during a disoriented period, including a stay in psychiatric care. As listeners, we’re invited to drift in a turbulent yet mirror-still sea of lost identities and lose ourselves in the warm current of consciousness the music creates. It certainly doesn’t break any ambient conventions – but it’s a pleasure to be swept away nonetheless.

Havet er en stærk metafor for identitetens væsen – fra stormfuld oprørskhed til stille havblik driver vores individuelle særpræg rundt i et evigt skiftende ocean. På Original Spirit kaster den franske musiker Les Halles anker i sindets omskiftelige farvande og lader panfløjter og støvede ekkoer fungere som kompas. 

De otte numre er dybt forankret i ambientgenrens omfavnende univers, og allerede fra åbningsnummeret, »Angels of Venice«, skyller musikken ind med blide bølgeskvulp. Bløde, bøjede synthflader ledsager de gentagne fløjteløb, mens gårsdagens ekkoer flimrer forbi som falmede Kodak-øjeblikke – erindringens svage glimt i et tåget indre landskab.

Ordet »ambient« kan spores til det latinske ambire, hvilket betyder »rundt om«, og ambientgenren kendetegnes dermed som musik, der »omslutter« lytteren. Les Halles, også kendt under borgernavnet Baptiste Martin, udnytter denne egenskab til fulde. Musikken er mild, uden dominerende melodier eller tempi – som en tryg lille boble, man frit kan slænge sig i.

Som meget andet ambientmusik er Original Spirit fritstillet fra lyriske fortolkningsrammer. Men den tilhørende pressetekst rammesætter albummet som et brev, skrevet af Baptiste Martin i en forvildet tid med en psykiatrisk indlæggelse tilføjet. Som lytter får vi altså lov at drive rundt i et oprørt og alligevel spejlblankt hav af tabte identiteter og fortabe os i musikkens varme bevidsthedsstrøm. Det er bestemt ikke et brud på nogen ambiente konventioner – men ikke desto mindre en fornøjelse at fortabe sig i.

In the world of experimental music, it now takes quite a lot to be truly surprised – it’s a space where both treasures and old debts are often revisited. That’s why listening to Colors, the improvised duo album by Maria Laurette Friis and Thomas Morgan, feels like a fresh revelation. Pairing an experimental vocalist and composer (Friis) with an experienced double bassist (Morgan) and letting them improvise for three hours may not sound groundbreaking at first. Yet somehow, a rare and unique symbiosis arises between voice and double bass – a connection so special that one rarely hears anything quite like it.

Friis is a dazzling singer, and her wordless expressions draw on everything from Mongolian throat singing and jazz to Nordic darkness. She shifts effortlessly between pure singing and guttural sounds within a single improvisation. Morgan’s double bass provides an intriguing contrast, exploring the instrument’s outer edges without ever becoming unpleasant.

The three-hour recording session has been distilled into nine tracks spanning a total of 45 minutes, and the concept of using only voice and double bass is maintained throughout – despite both musicians’ backgrounds in vastly different musical expressions. The unique language that emerges is often both unsettling and deeply beautiful. When they give each other space – as in the seven-minute »Eight« – and when the bass plays alone, it’s impossible not to sway along, even without a proper beat. Colors proves that great art can still arise from nothing – in both the strange and the more familiar dialogues. That is exactly what Friis and Morgan achieve on this captivating postcard from another world.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek