In brief
20.04.2021

Selvsikker storbyfart og legesyge

Alice Archives: Caktus + Selvhenter
Maria Dybbroe i front for Caktus. Still fra video. © Alice
Maria Dybbroe i front for Caktus. Still fra video. © Alice

Caktus’ to altsaxofoner, kontrabas, cello og trommer vidner om en kvintet, der har placeret sig et sted imellem jazzen og kammermusikkens verdener. Dette kan umiddelbart lyde som en svær balancegang, men orkestret er heldigvis fortrolige med blandingsforholdene.

Fra indledningen med kun en enkelt saxofon og bas, inklusive en ultrakort (intentionel?) reference til John Coltranes »Welcome«, føres jeg gennem introspektive, opbyggende passager og udfarende, eksplosive forløsninger. Saxofonerne både hvisker og hviner, strygerne stryges og plukkes, trommerne tier og larmer. Fra storbyidyl til højhastighedstrafikinferno og alt derimellem.

Det er kompetent og selvsikkert, men indimellem savner jeg lidt mere usikkerhed i balancegangen, at orkestret trækker musikken lidt længere ud i begge retninger.

Mens Caktus spiller på vekselvirkningen mellem to traditioner, så gør Selvhenter brug af en helt anderledes tilgang. Med en besætning på altsaxofon, basun og trommer kunne man forvente en jazztrio, men Selvhenter er meget mere – eller måske noget helt andet – end det.

Begge blæsere er næsten konstant underlagt en række pedaleffekter, og det er sjældent, at de to instrumenter rent faktisk lyder som sig selv. Saxofonisten får til tider sit horn til at lyde som en Fisher-Price-plasticmelodica, mens basunisten blandt andet producerer en lyd, der bedst kan beskrives via referencer til Black Sabbath-riffs. Trommerne er til sammenligning mere konventionelle i deres lyd og funktion, og de forankrer dermed på fornemste vis de ellers højtragende idéer.

Selvhenter udviser en larmende, søgende legesyghed, og som det er kutymen i den søgende musik, så er der nogle momenter, der fanger min opmærksomhed mere end andre. Men den allestedsnærværende legesyge smitter.

In briefrelease
16.10

A Microphone In the Nervous System

IKI: »BODY«
© Julie Montauk
© Julie Montauk

It sounds as if someone has placed a microphone directly inside the nervous system’s electrical impulses. The Nordic electroacoustic vocal ensemble IKI explores the boundaries between body and technology on their fifth, self-produced album BODY, where the five singers’ bodies merge into one large, organic rhythm box.

The tracks change form as the body breathes, dances, awakens, runs, wanders – in the imperative mood. The harmonically unison ripple of »Float« is countered by flickering modem-like sounds in »Regenerate«. Everything is framed by the recurring theme »Circuit«, which ultimately gathers the fragments into a single linguistic statement: »Are you gone when your body is not breathing?«

BODY demands concentration. IKI claims that all sounds on the album are created with the voice – a counterpoint to the electrically manipulated, a kind of reversed version of synthesizer sounds that imitate the human voice. It’s an incomprehensible mystery one keeps listening for: how can the voice produce the accordion-like sound on »Breath«, panned all the way to the left and slowly taking over the entire soundscape? Of course, it can’t do so on its own. The recording itself is an electronic mediation. The technological tools act as a microscope for vocal expression. It’s powerful because it asks about the transitions between human and machine, between life and afterlife. Yet the premise holds a paradox that never fully resolves.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

Bjarke Niemann. © Frederik Barasinski

»Music is everything that can only be described far more poorly with words.«

Bjarke Niemann is the lead singer, songwriter, and producer of the Danish band Spleen United. The group broke through with Godspeed Into The Mainstream in 2005 and has performed at, among other places, Roskilde Festival and the Copenhagen Opera House. Bjarke Niemann has also composed and developed music for TV and video games – including the international game series Hitman – and has produced albums with artists such as Soleima, Statisk, Afskum, and Hugorm.

© Motis Necrojam

»Music is the pursuit of original failure...« 

Motis Necrojam is the singer and collager with the Noseflutes and The Clicking Stick, a pair of combos from the old English Birmingham times, adorned with new-times dedication to derailment, approved by Sir John Peel, via their four live sessions for his mighty BBC Radio programme, occasional treaders of the boards, musicians with alias obsessions. One thing Necrojam has is a digit on the diminishing pulse. 

Katrine Muff. © Ditte Capion

»Music, to me, is the key to – and an extension of – my vocabulary. If I struggle to put ‘spoken words’ to something inside, or if I need release in the form of a proper cry, the right song can put me in the right gear immediately. It can be the lyrics, the melody, or both that give direct access to my emotions, where the brain can simply be put into neutral and carried away.«

Katrine Muff, born in 1985, is a composer and singer. She has set music to texts by, among others, Stine Pilgaard and Suzanne Brøgger, and in 2021 she received the Folk Song Prize (Den Folkelige Sangs Pris). Together with Lone Hørslev, she is currently releasing the album Jeg ønsker mig and working as a songwriter on the theatre concert STOLT (Folketeateret).

In brieflive
04.10

Soap Horse Kept a Tight Rein – Maybe Too Tight

Soap Horse + K Bech
Soap Horse. © Malthe Folke Ivarsson
Soap Horse. © Malthe Folke Ivarsson

K Bech – known from the rock band Shiny Darkly – opened Saturday night’s concert at Alice with a raw, unpolished melancholy. A sense of Copenhagen-style urban gloom was palpable, yet the slightly nervous set never really took off. Despite a promising setup of violin, guitar, and electronic tracks, the sensitive lyrics remained more hints than breakthroughs.

Soap Horse then took the stage and truly ignited the evening with an authentic chicken-picking riff. The country-rooted guitar technique was just one example of the musical abundance running through the band, which has just released its debut EP Tooth Inside a Tooth.

Nothing seemed accidental. From the rust-red gothic tapestry to the carefully chosen instrumentation – violin, saxophone, and pedal steel alongside guitar, bass, and drums – every detail added to a deliberate aesthetic. The sound was dark and alluring, in sharp contrast to frontman Hans Gustav Björklund Moulvad’s shock of white hair and intense stage presence.

The songs were crafted with a refined sense of balance. Simple, repetitive motifs were passed between the instruments, and when massive noise walls and shimmering colors broke through, the already blurred borders of indie rock stretched even further. Moulvad commanded the whole with ease, moving charismatically between the music’s many layers. And yet, I found myself wishing Soap Horse would let go completely. The weightless intermezzos – where the unusual lineup could have truly unfolded – were too often pulled back by a steady drumbeat, returning the music to a safe ground. Soap Horse displayed remarkable control and a firm grasp of both their sonic universe and their audience. Perhaps all that’s left is to prove they dare to loosen their grip.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek