What does Britain sound like now? Like a country longing for ideals and meaning following its abandonment of any sort of common cause or experience. The catastrophe of Brexit looms large. 

At least Britain still has talent. Manchester Collective is one of the nimble ensembles that have emerged from a British artistic landscape in which old infrastructural certainties no longer rule. It is a flexible, string-based group that plays with heart, soul and extraordinary technical finesse. Its ear for detail, sense of floating lightness and good taste in composers caught the attention of the Danish String Quartet, which presented the ensemble’s exploration of contemporary Britishness as part of its Series of Four festival. 

All the composers featured see beyond thinking of innovation in terms of tonality. The wild hockets and reels of »Muttos« from Christian Mason’s Sardinian Songbook tap a typically English handling of folk material, as do Dobrinka Tabakova’s Insight and Jonathan Dove’s Out of Time. Those pieces, and Andrew Hamilton’s absurdist musical jigsaw puzzle In beautiful May, speak of loss as much as Anna Meredith’s Tuggemo shrieks a sort of plastic optimism. 

The highlights were the half-lit remembrances of Jocelyn Campbell’s 3AM and Edmund Finnis’s String Quartet No 2. Finnis’s piece extends a salient, introspective form of British minimalism. The third movement, played without vibrato, seems to express a longing to exist beyond the confines it has prescribed for itself. Very British. Just as much so was the particular charm that flowed all night from MC-founder Rakhi Singh, who with her colleagues, played everything with astonishing, tender beauty.  

Eight people sit at their own office desks. One raises an elbow to their mouth and lets out a muffled groan into it; another starts lazily slapping their forearm; a third suddenly creaks like a worn-out spring mattress. But the young singers of ÆTLA don’t crack a smile – their deadpan is the main comic ingredient in Matias Vestergård’s Apollonian sketch show SEX in Concert.

They quickly move from a whore’s chorus to a Renaissance madrigal, the transition seamless, with the humor tagging along: an Italian word that sounds like »aquamarine« becomes »ah! kvamarin«, and in this way, 400-year-old works by Gesualdo and his like-minded peers are sprinkled with Vestergård’s salon-style wit. But the movement also goes the other way: Vestergård’s newly composed pieces are tastefully ornamented with moving voices and flirt with strict church modality.

The desks are constantly rearranged, the office workers shifting from tableau to tableau, while the task of writing lyrics into a Google Doc projected on a screen rotates among the singers: Amalie Smith, Marvin Gaye, outraged anti-capitalist critique, and cheerful chat language – everything tinged with desire, but above all with ambivalence toward desire. Everything flows, including Vestergård’s compositions, which in one moment test icy echo techniques, and in the next turn up the heat with perfectly crafted barbershop.

SEX in Concert is clearly an exercise, and as director, Johan Klint Sandberg has had a field day with the office comedy. But the exercise succeeds (even if the hands stay above the covers): before you know it, an hour has passed in which Vestergård, Sandberg, and ÆTLA have slipped poetry, madrigals, and new vocal music down the throat of a young audience. It can actually be quite fun!

Christianshavns Beboerhus, March 18–22

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek