The Copenhagen-based duo Blaume’s EP excess air is a field study in the shared pulse of breathing, calmly taking a deep breath. The EP’s airy sound unfolds cyclically from the physical conditions of respiration, and with hoarse choral voices and chirping flute, the two artists – Laura Zöschg (IT) and Mette Hommel (DK) – wind their way around the healing and artistic qualities of breath.

Perhaps it is the strangely warm winter or the blooming figures on the cover, but excess air seems to carry a fragile sense of spring. The sparse instrumentation gropes its way forward improvisationally across the three tracks, and the many choral voices add a tangible physical sense of musicians at work, underscoring a feeling of tentative sprouting.

The electronic element, in the form of vocal effects and the music software Ableton, is an important part of Blaume’s expression. Vocal effects often come across as quite prominent, but when the processed voice on the track »vivus tremus« drifts into a hoarse rasp, the artificial divide between voice and effect dissolves, and the electronic becomes an obvious extension of Blaume’s shared breath.

Blaume’s excess air is a delightfully vital EP. It is music with the surplus energy to stretch far from a simple and immediate point of departure, and with a few simple means, Blaume’s debut emerges as a welcome harbinger of spring.

When I first listened to the Danish violist, singer, and producer Astrid Sonne’s new album, Great Doubt, I honestly wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I immediately noticed how extraordinary Sonne’s viola sounds on the album – such a powerful presence that it almost feels like a deeply complex living organism, breathing, feeling, and moving dramatically through the album’s nine songs.

My favourite track was without a doubt »Almost«, where Sonne’s fragile, subtly intense voice is accompanied solely by the viola’s minimalist pizzicato melody, which reminds me of a forgotten composition from Japanese new age pioneer Hiroshi Yoshimura’s masterpiece Green.

On most of the tracks, however, voice and viola are also joined by electronic rhythms, piano chords, and synth figures which, in contrast to the viola’s organic, vibrating sound, initially struck me as almost plastically artificial. To me, it sounded as if the viola and the electronics were being transmitted from two very different universes, unable to fully coexist. There was something about the contrast that felt slightly… uncanny.

Yet with repeated listens, everything begins to make sense. Sonne’s coolly understated voice is the glue that binds the entire soundscape together, as if it itself exists in the porous space between the viola’s raw natural force and the electronics’ tamed purity. I like it more and more – and perhaps I may even come to love it. Great Doubt is an album that, despite its modest running time of just 26 minutes, demands immersion and reflection – and ultimately rewards the listener for it.