in brieflive

A Quilt of Care and Music

Nan Na Hvass, Katinka Fogh Vindelev: »Et rum at vente i«

We all know the simple act of care involved in placing a blanket around another person. In the installation A Room to Wait In, this gesture is made literal through textiles and song, both carrying a history spanning centuries. Nan Na Hvass has quilted together 150-year-old fabrics with her own emotional experiences and contemporary encounters with waiting rooms during fertility treatment. Her aim is to transform the clinical space in which one wakes after a procedure, drowsy and clinging to a fragile hope, into a more nurturing environment that stitches generations together. And to bring music into the experience. Each quilt bears witness to the bodies it has warmed and the hands that have sewn it.

Soprano and multidisciplinary artist Katinka Fogh Vindelev moved among us as we lay on individual beds, each covered with a quilted bedspread. »This pain is not yours alone,« came the words in her beautiful, deeply intimate voice, set to music by Hildegard von Bingen, the Italian composer Barbara Strozzi and Vindelev herself. Melancholic minor scales descended; elsewhere, small melodies emerged from an earlier musical era, without leading tones – that is, without the sense of causality found in virtually all music since the eighteenth century. Sounds that simply exist, without control or any necessary direction – much like a person living with a fragile hope of fertility.

There were only four places available – an intimate concert in every sense, in which care, expressed through song, textiles and presence, merged in an almost magical way. The person lying on the bed next to me could not stop crying afterwards. The room was anything but clinical – song and textiles had transformed it into a place of care. Thoughtful and beautiful.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

in briefrelease

25.09

An Organ in the Dark Forest of Doubt

Calum Builder: »Although Changed, I Arise the Same«

Thanatosis, 25.09

Kristoffer Møllegaard

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

playlist

25.09

We are Echo, Bravo – would you like to see our playlist?

»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.«

playlist

21.09

My name is Luca Quintavalle – would you like to see my playlist?

»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.

in brieflive

21.09

The Trombone Finds Its Quiet Side

Francisco Coll: »Tapias«

Stavanger Concert Hall, 17.09.26

Andrew Mellor

At 19, the Spanish composer (and trombonist) Francisco Coll wrote a wild-child of a trombone concerto that pushed the instrument out of its comfort zone. 22 years later he has created a new piece from some of that material. Its priorities are the opposite.

Tapias embraces the lyrical, ethereal qualities of the trombone. It is not a concerto, insists Coll. Perhaps it could be described as a set of frescoes for trombone and orchestra. Whatever the category, it’s a beguiling piece that was gorgeously birthed on Thursday by Ian Bousfield, conductor Nuno Coelho and a sumptuous-sounding Stavanger Symphony Orchestra.

Composers from Sibelius to Turnage have reacted against caricatures of the trombone as brusque and clowning by exploring its dark-hued lyricism. Coll does something more, setting his soloist’s introspective, intervallic melodies in evocative and provocative orchestral contexts. The soloist’s lines can resemble spray-canned tracings on walls already heavy with the patina of history, decoration and graffiti.

Initially the trombone appears to seek repose. The second movement draws it into more agility but the dancing is suppressed: a layered burying of all manner of rhythms from flamenco to Hiphop. Great wodges of rich harmony weigh the boogying down for good.

The trombone does find peace in the final movement – its long, soulful melodies more yielding. But not before Coll has conjured up moments of huge harmonic strain and conscious orchestral magnificence. They sat well next to Coelho’s fierce performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No 5 after the interval. But Bousfield’s heartfelt journey through Tapias, sounding entirely at one with the orchestra, will linger longest in the mind.

A Quilt of Care and Music

An Organ in the Dark Forest of Doubt

We are Echo, Bravo – would you like to see our playlist?

Thorbjørn Tønder Hansen (1971-2026)

My name is Luca Quintavalle – would you like to see my playlist?

The Trombone Finds Its Quiet Side