in briefrelease
27.03.2025

The Cello Within the Comfort Zone

Josefine Opsahl: »Cytropia«
© Lis Kasper Bang
© Lis Kasper Bang

There are twelve tracks on Josefine Opsahl’s album Cytropia, each with the duration of a rock song. Remarkably, there is a straight line from the first to the last – both in timbre, rhythm, melody, atmosphere, and playing. The ears are embraced by a gentle melancholy created by small cello figures in long sequences, with a slow-moving cello melody on top. Some parts in minor, others more open.

She is receiving quite a lot of praise these days for her many projects – an opera and a ballet – alongside her work as a cellist-composer, and it must almost be due to the highly accessible, cohesive, and dreamy sound she consistently delivers. I must admit that I have become somewhat skeptical along the way. Both as a musician and as a composer, I wish she would challenge herself with new approaches and new visions for the stories her music should tell. On Cytropia, we approach a constant state of uniform sound, evoking thoughts of the deliberate inertia of New Age composers.

There are quite beautiful moments along the way. The track »Cyborg« is crystal-clear in its surface. A piece like »Leaverecalls«, in its mechanics, the American minimalism of Philip Glass. But once again, one misses displacements and rhythmic additions that could challenge the static soundscape. The last hundred years of experimentation have expanded the battlefield of cello playing. Opsahl draws on some of these experiences to create her own small mechanical accompaniments for herself. Yet, the setup with a sequencer and a cello seems limiting in allowing Opsahl to explore timbres and ideas where the gravity of melancholy can truly be felt.

© Malthe Folke Ivarsson

»In his music, composer Allan Gravgaard Madsen tries to create a better version of himself.« 

Allan Gravgaard Madsen is a Danish composer based in Copenhagen. His most recent works include Träume nicht and Nachtmusik. He tries to create a better version of himself in his music – where his personality tends to be restless, chatty and has an active inner life, his music is controlled, simple and merciless in its expression. He is the recipient of the Carl Nielsen & Anne Marie Carl-Nielsens Hæderspris 2022.

in briefrelease
23.01.2022

Finnish Space Travel

Tomutonttu: »Hoshi«
© Tomutonttu: »Hoshi«
© Tomutonttu: »Hoshi«

The Finnish multimedia artist Jan Anderzén has, with the album Hoshi, released under the solo moniker Tomutonttu, created a true little star. Not only because »hoshi« literally means »star« in Japanese, but above all due to the music itself. There is something cosmic, yet infinitely minute, about the sonic worlds Anderzén conjures—like a galaxy reflected in a puddle, or a space journey in a rocket carved from a hollow tree trunk. Synths emit busy, warm blips and bloops, while ultra-short vocal and instrumental samples create a recognizable blur. At once artificial and organic – soft, rounded, jagged, crackling.

Anderzén approaches sound with a playfulness I simply adore. His music is strange in an incredibly comforting way. It places me in a kind of colorful, trance-like state, only interrupted when, several times over the course of the album, I find myself smiling in delight at a particularly great sound. The synths on »Katse osuu sähköön!« The choral samples on »Kesä oli äkkiä ohi!« Milo Linnovaara’s flute on »Malta lausua ‘AH’!« And many more. Hoshi is an album packed with microscopic moments that together form a frayed, exploding, radiant, idiosyncratic whole—a stellar moment of just under 38 minutes.