in brief
30.04.2021

Arkiv over fragmenter

Alice Archives: Astrid Sonne + Francesca Burattelli
Astrid Sonne omgivet af Tobias Kropp og Marie Louise Buch. © Alice
Astrid Sonne omgivet af Tobias Kropp og Marie Louise Buch. © Alice

Astrid Sonne, Marie Louise Buch og Tobias Kropp indleder deres minikoncert a cappella. Trioen er indrammet af det blege lys fra vinduerne i baggrunden, og den flotte billedside, med sine nedtonede farver og lidt uskarpe kvalitet, skaber en nærmest sakral stemning.

De tre musikere både står og sidder i løbet af koncerten, og på samme måde, som de bevæger sig mellem instrumenter – mikrofoner, elektriske guitarer, violin, sampler – så bevæger de sig også gennem forskellige stilarter. Førnævnte smukke korsang afløses af simpelt, men effektivt dobbeltguitarspil, tempofyldt elektronisk og violinpassage.

Mens jeg finder alle de individuelle dele interessante og endda smukke, så frustreres jeg over manglen på en stærkere rød tråd igennem hele koncerten.

Den røde tråd viser sig også at blive min anke i Francesca Burattellis koncertvideo. Denne indledes af sangerinden akkompagneret på akustisk guitar. Dette første nummer er som folkesangens varme muld, og lyssætningen matcher med røde toner.

Da sangen er færdig, skifter alt dog karakter via et meget åbenlyst klip i både video og lyd. Den fjerde mur brydes, og fortællingen gør holdt og genoptages. Nu er Burattelli pludselig alene på scenen, og både musik og lys er mekanisk og koldt, endda til tider sørgende. Der er en interessant historie i overgangen fra den indbydende skønsang til den efterfølgende næsten forvirrende dissonans, som var Burattelli en sirene fra den græske mytologi.

Det abrupte skift er på sin vis et effektivt virkemiddel, men jeg ville ønske, at det kunne være blevet inkorporeret på en måde, der ville fremme indlevelsen i stedet for at hindre den.

in briefrelease
25.09

An Organ in the Dark Forest of Doubt

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

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

© PR

»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.«

 
 
© Ultima
© Ultima

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.

© PR

»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«
© PR
© PR

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.