Do Whales Actually Want to Listen to Us?
The French electronic musician Rone finds it difficult to express emotions verbally. In Valentin Paoli’s rather touching documentary The Musician and The Whale, he reflects on music’s ability to create connections and convey moods to an audience – whether human or interspecies.
One day, Rone receives a video from a sailor who is playing his music at sea. Whales gather around the boat, seemingly drawn to the sounds, and this becomes the starting point for an exploration of whether the musician might be able to communicate with the animals through sound. Rone seeks out an expert in whale vocalizations, who points to certain high-pitched synth elements in his EDM compositions that resemble whale song. He then has a girls’ choir record the whale sounds with human voices and travels to Réunion to play the sounds back to the whales.
At first, the attempt proves futile: the whales appear indifferent to the girls’ choir. Quoting Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Rone realizes that if one wishes to move others, one must begin with what moves oneself. It is a Disney-like insight in a slightly sentimental film that speaks to the human desire to communicate with animals.
But are we actually sure that animals want to communicate with us? As the film’s central figure, Rone briefly reflects on a few ethical questions concerning animals, yet his infectious enthusiasm for the sounds of whales prevents him from asking the most fundamental questions about the relationship between humans and animals. Instead, we get a portrait of the musician that is almost as polished and warm-hearted as his music. The whale, wisely, remains beneath the surface of the sea.
»The Musician and The Whale« / »La Baleine et le Musicien« (83 min.)
Valentin Paoli (FR), 2026. Screening at CPH:DOX, March 11, 12 and 20
An Organ in the Dark Forest of Doubt
Last year, Builder released Poor_in_Spirit, an album in which he explored, on his own, the sonic possibilities of his self-built organ. It was an album shaped by this exploration, but ultimately also by the limitations of the organ itself. On Although Changed, I Arise the Same, the composer finds a way beyond them.
The organ is now joined by three additions: Builder’s own alto saxophone, along with the voices of Zola Mennenöh and Johanna Sulkunen. It makes all the difference, providing the diversity of instrumentation that Builder has repeatedly demonstrated his ability to compose for. At times, the organ’s bass sinks beneath the voices and saxophone like a light haze; at others, it envelops them in a heavy fog. It howls like wind in the trees and roars like a train in the night. Mennenöh and Sulkunen sing, chant and breathe simple, repetitive phrases about spiritual uncertainty and searching, as though lost in the dark forest of doubt.
It is a Spartan form of storytelling, giving the listener enough lyricism and atmosphere to set the mind in motion, but never so much that it becomes overwhelming. This is where Builder’s strength lies: his music clearly grows out of his life and experiences, yet he composes in such a way that the listener is invited to enter the story with their own imagination.
Builder determines the colours, but leaves part of the picture to the listener. It is an album that is far more restrained in its dramaturgy than previous releases. No less beautiful or inspiring for it.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»For us, music is a transcendent force with transformative potential – something we get to experience and shape when we create sound together. It is an opportunity to describe one’s innermost universes without words, and the best way for an introvert to express intense emotions at full volume.«
With roots in Copenhagen’s experimental jazz and punk scene, Echo, Bravo challenges the notion of what a rock band can sound like. The quintet blends post-punk, free punk, and noise rock into a raw and unpredictable soundscape. They describe the music themselves as a kind of »empty-the-fridge soup,« where various leftovers come together. »Best enjoyed as a hot meal in a cold industry.«
Thorbjørn Tønder Hansen has died. With Thorbjørn’s passing, the art music community has lost one of the Nordic region’s most significant producers, curators and cultural leaders.
»Music is the best way to discover myself and understand the world around me.«
Luca Quintavalle is a harpsichordist, fortepianist and conductor. He has performed with ensembles including Concerto Köln, Harmonie Universelle, the Mozarteum Orchestra Salzburg and the Kölner Kammerorchester at venues and festivals such as the Kölner Philharmonie, Salzburg Festival and Enescu Festival. He was harpsichordist of Les Musiciens du Prince, led by Cecilia Bartoli, for over five years, and has conducted ensembles including the Orchestra and Chorus of Teatro dell’Opera di Roma, Concerto Köln and Deutsche Kammerakademie Neuss. His recordings include Mirrors, released by Berlin Classics and awarded an OPUS KLASSIK.