news

Thorbjørn Tønder Hansen (1971-2026)

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.

For more than two decades, Thorbjørn worked at the intersection of contemporary music, sound art, festival management and Danish-Norwegian cultural cooperation. From 2000 to 2006, Thorbjørn was manager of the Norwegian Cikada Ensemble. In 2009, he became director of Art Music Denmark (then Snyk), a position he held until 2017, when he returned to the Norwegian cultural scene as director of the Ultima Festival. In the final years of his life, Thorbjørn served as a board member of the Foundation for Danish-Norwegian Cooperation.

Thorbjørn was a well-liked and visionary cultural leader who left an indelible mark on the music scene. I, like many other Danish artists, probably remember Thorbjørn best for his inspiring and courageous projects, such as the G((o))ng Tomorrow Festival (formerly Wundergrund). Thorbjørn was never afraid to give young and emerging artists a chance to perform, and I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that, for this reason alone, Thorbjørn had an impact on an entire generation of Danish artists.

I was still a young composition student when I first met Thorbjørn. It must have been around 2008. At the time, Thorbjørn was a project manager at Art Music Denmark, which was in the midst of developing G((o))ng Tomorrow. A festival that mixed genres and crossed artistic communities, Thorbjørn explained – a radical concept in Denmark at the time. The next thing I knew, I was standing on the G((o))ng stage at Råhuset with a group of wild young artists – musicians and composers, from both classical and rhythmic traditions, with vastly different artistic expressions and working methods. The concert that followed was hardly an artistic revelation, but the conversations, friendships and nights at the bar with a group of artists I would otherwise never have encountered opened my eyes to an entirely new way of collaborating – both artistically and in terms of cultural production.

Over the years, Thorbjørn developed many international friendships with artists and institutions from near and far. Thorbjørn and G((o))ng Tomorrow introduced countless exciting artists to Denmark while also opening new doors abroad for Danish artists. For many years, Thorbjørn was almost synonymous with Danish art music abroad and an exceptionally important link between artists, venues and festivals.

This is how I believe many people remember Thorbjørn: as an inspiring figure with forward-looking ideas, curious and courageous, and with a strong understanding of the value of international musical exchange.

The Danish music scene would not be the same without Thorbjørn. The same can be said of Art Music Denmark. Our small genre organisation has changed considerably since Thorbjørn was its director. Nevertheless, I am proud of the organisation I myself took over, and where the fundamental values from that time are still very much alive. An organisation that works to create new opportunities for artists. An organisation with a strong international network and a focus on international musical exchange. I do not believe this would have been possible without Thorbjørn’s immense and tireless groundwork.

Thorbjørn Tønder Hansen has died. He will be deeply missed, not only by artists and the cultural community across the Nordic region, but also by his many friends and collaborators around the world. Thorbjørn created connections, ideas and visions that continue to shape today’s cultural landscape. I have no doubt that his impact on the cultural life of the Nordic region will live on.

My warmest thoughts go out to Thorbjørn’s family and loved ones at this difficult time.

May Thorbjørn’s memory be honoured.

Regin Petersen
Director, Art Music Denmark

in brieflive

05.07.2024

A World of Contrasts – and a Touch of Smurf Vocals

Roskilde Festival: Slauson Malone 1

Roskilde Festival, Platform, 03.07

Sune Anderberg

The cello is everywhere at this year’s Roskilde Festival. Some use it as just about anything else – hey, now it’s an electric bass, or how about a keyboard drowned in effects – but in American Jasper Marsalis’ Marcela Lucatelli-worthy bomb project Slauson Malone 1, the cello was actually used as, well, a cello.

Marsalis himself handled vocals and electric guitar on the open Platform stage, while Nicholas Wetherell opened the concert with a motor-race assault on his amplified cello, then pivoted into plucked meditations, to which Marsalis contributed overtone playing on guitar. Sensitive jazz guys? Nope – suddenly: synchronized noise sprints, intimacy splintered, and before long Marsalis threw himself into the seated audience with a somersault – and a scream.

Meanwhile, Wetherell played tender vibratos. Because contrasts thrive at Roskilde – and, after all, seem to be driving the world forward these days. And so it was the world itself that came into focus in the music: through violent shifts between 8-bit Smurf vocals, ambient gnawing solo cello, intimate indie layered over a one-second sample of Cher – culminating in a wistful lullaby veiled in digital theremin.

In many ways, it was peak hipster era. But it was also intensely moving – something like following Mahler out on the edge of the abyss as he tried to sketch the whole world into his scores. The only difference: the easel looks a bit different today.

in brieflive

04.07.2024

Shouldn’t Selvhenter be playing the Orange Stage next year?”

RF 2024: Selvhenter

Roskilde Festival, Avalon, 03.07

Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

It is not the first time Selvhenter have shown Roskilde how a saxophone can scream. Even the most avant-garde-ready listeners were left gasping for air. It was hard not to let your own lungs empathise with the long passages and unruly energy that the experimental Copenhagen quartet excelled in, wielding an instrumentarium consisting of two drum kits, synth, trombone, saxophone and assorted extras.

And the more the band – positioned in the centre of the Avalon tent, surrounded by the audience – wove their collective patchwork carpet, the more the individual character of the instruments was erased. Selvhenter could just as well have been playing entirely different instruments. You could see Sonja LaBianca standing there, forcing tones out of a wind instrument, yet it sounded more like a harp from outer space. It was astonishing how her saxophone fanfares resembled distress signals beamed into the cosmos. Meanwhile, the drums drove very grounded rhythms: Steve Reich-like pulses colliding with freer passages.

Selvhenter inflated the tent with full-fat punked and jazzy noise. Without pauses (not even when a snare drum went dead and had to be replaced mid-set) and without water for the crowd. Being so close to the musicians was a plus; on their small central stage they looked like giants in a battle arena. This was new music that was deeply physical. For about an hour we breathed together (and perhaps even sweated?) in sync. And it is profoundly good to do something together at a festival.

Selvhenter on the Orange Stage next year. Come on!

playlist

12.06.2024

My name is Jussi Parikka – would you like to see my playlist?

»Music involves a mix of noise, of existing or fabricated instruments, of alternative worlds that the sounds and voices assemble. Some are gentle, some less so. We shift gears with music, it shifts intensity, we shift with it. I listen when I can.«

Jussi Parikka is a Finnish cultural historian and writer who works at Aarhus University as professor of Digital Aesthetics and Culture. After some 15 years in the UK, he continues in Denmark his work on how ecology, digital culture, art and design, and philosophy intersect. He has written on visual culture and history and archaeology of media, including the recent books Operational Images (2023) and Living Surfaces: Images, Plants, and Environments of Media (2024) which is co-authored with the Madrid-based artist Abelardo Gil-Fournier. Besides his writing and work as educator, he has been active as a curator including the recent show Climate Engines at Laboral, in Gijon (Spain) that was co-curated with Daphne Dragona as well as his involvement in the curatorial team of Helsinki Biennial 2023.

in briefrelease

23.04.2024

What a Dial Tone Tells Us About Life

Beachers: »Off the Hook«

Ineffectual Suns, 15.03

Sune Anderberg

Crazy about phones? Then listen up. For British artist Beachers spent a day in his London office, and with his smartphone, recorded the sound of a landline waiting for you to dial a number after lifting the receiver. An innocent, yet somewhat insistent sound: Use me, beep-beep-beep-boop, now!

He cut up the recording, panned it around, shifted the pitch here and there, and dabbed it with delays. Turned it into musical material, in other words. And from the effort, Off the Hook grows small tones and harmonies like those from a self-built organ. But the office noises follow along, making the little album feel oddly haunted.

There are white creaks, maybe from a chair. Treble screams like distant, escaped parakeets. Short keystrokes, mysterious silences. After the harmonic organ opening, Beachers lets a deep bass rumble beneath chopped-up beeps. Layers are added, or sudden shifts occur. It’s not meant to be perfectly polished; you’re meant to feel that a human is playing with the digital.

Patiently, small pulses build, maybe even a beat. Listen to the hidden parties and drives of everyday life, the music seems to say—but also: see what we can do to pass the waiting time while forgetting what we’re actually waiting for—someone to pick up, the boss to let us off, death catching up to us.

In the end, only the raw recording is heard. A minute of beeps, boops, and random noise. As if each motif bows to its audience. What a strange release, nostalgically so in its way. And how creative.

in brieflive

09.04.2024

Ballet’s New Power Duo

Josefine Opsahl: »Passengers of Passing Moments« (Koreorama nr. 01)

Det Kongelige Teater, 22.03–30.04

Sune Anderberg

Josefine Opsahl herself sits on stage in the Australian-Danish choreographer Tara Schaufuss’s ballet Passengers of Passing Moments, for which Opsahl has composed the music. In fact, she almost steals all the attention from the ten dancers, as it is fascinating to watch the 32-year-old cellist’s theatrical immersion and her very active use of her right leg to control the loop and effects box.

The nearly half-hour ballet score is inspired by Bach, but also conveys a highland-like sense of drama through sampled breathing, stabbing subdivisions, and pronounced reverberation. It begins with delicate, bright major-key tones, but quickly moves into the depths, finding throbbing bass and timpani-like resonance. Emotions rush through every bow stroke.

The theme of the ballet is time. In fleeting moments, the dancers are caught in Opsahl’s small, mechanical loops; later, a dark, melancholic space is established, in which a young woman sinks into a memory. Extended sounds and overtones signal a time put out of joint; a faint wind is heard, a ticking fades in, and suddenly she has dreamed her beloved into being.

The woman moves like a ghost among the other bodies as Opsahl intensifies her playing, shifting between triple and quadruple meter. At one point, it is as if she disappears entirely into the violent temperament of the music; her dramatic flair turns Bach into an Avenger-like hero, and this suits Schaufuss’s focus on the force of emotions remarkably well. It is saturated, direct, and seemingly made for a grippingly intense choreography. A powerful partnership on the grand stage.