in brief
05.05.2021

Ekstraordinære koncepter, ordinær musik

CPH:DOX: »A Symphony of Noise«
Matthew Herbert i Enrique Sánchez Lanschs »A Symphony of Noise«. © Kloos und Co. Medien
Matthew Herbert i Enrique Sánchez Lanschs »A Symphony of Noise«. © Kloos und Co. Medien

Orgler drevet af blod, dybstegte trompeter, træfældning optaget på indersiden af et træ og Mahlers musik opført ved hans gravsted og hørt fra indersiden af en kiste. Det er ikke, fordi fantasien fejler noget, når sampleaktivisten Matthew Herbert går i gang med at lave koncepter til sin musik, men hvordan lyder det egentlig? Lidt undervældende ...

I A Symphony of Noise følger vi Herbert, der fortæller om sine overvejelser, når han laver sin meget politiske musik. For Herbert er der noget politisk i samplingens evne til at kunne udvide og spille med verden. Så når han vil kommentere svineproduktion, optager han et svin igennem et år og komponerer One Pig med disse lyde i stedet for at skrive en svinesonate for cello.

Det lyder alt sammen meget lovende, men i praksis er det ikke så overvældende. Det politiske er tit svært at høre, for når Herbert laver musik, er det snarere, som når en hiphopproducer crate-digger; han finder teksturer i lydene, og så komponerer han en slags (glimrende) housemusik med dem. Det musikalske overskygger i praksis det politiske, hvor det er svært at høre brexit, fordi man hører en syden fra en fish ‘n’ chips-gryde.

Det gør, at Enrique Sánchez Lanschs dokumentarfilm fungerer bedst, når den fikserer på Herberts visioner frem for produktet. Det er fascinerende at komme ind i hovedet på Herbert, der eksempelvis fortæller om sin nærmest guddommelige oplevelse af at høre 3.500 mennesker bide i æbler – en sonisk begivenhed, han mener, kun Gud eller rumvæsner og FBI (der alle overvåger os!) har oplevet før ham.

Musikalsk er det også Herberts fluxuslignende soundscapes (de er kun beskrevet i tekst, som løbende læses op), der er mest interessante. Herbert er en formidabel formidler af, hvordan han forestiller sig, at eksempelvis universet kan lyde.

in brieflive
24.05.2025

The Electronic Altar

 Fascia, Soli City, Nagaver
© PR
© PR

The table is a practical prop at most electronic music concerts. It has almost become a symbol of how electronic music is denied the same expressive, physical gestural language as acoustic music. This rigid symbolism was thankfully broken when the concert network Up Node hosted a showcase evening at Alice, featuring three emerging experimental electronic artists from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.

The MacBook stood enthroned like an altar as Swedish artist Fascia opened the evening, holding a blinking flashlight above her head – each flash triggering brutal bursts of noise. When she placed a webcam in her mouth and projected the table’s mysterious objects onto the screen behind her, the boundary between stage and audience dissolved through simple yet cunning technology.

Next to his MIDI keyboard, Danish artist Soli City had his trademark moving-head lamp. Like a robotic head, the lamp lit up and rotated in sync with epic crescendos and computerized voices. Soli City’s music is built around field recordings and classical instrumentation – strings and piano – forming a universe that exposes the tension between human and technology. The animated lamp and dramatic light show took centre stage, while composer Harald Bjørn stood like a hidden puppeteer, gently guiding the futuristic narrative forward.

The table in front of Norwegian artist Nagaver had been laid flat on the stage floor, forming a low wall. Behind it knelt Ilavenil Vasuky Jayapalan, who unleashed hard-hitting, dark rhythms from a DJ mixer, enveloping Alice in a transcendent haze. The concert evolved from driving trance into a kind of karaoke performance, with Jayapalan singing over dusty tracks—and unfortunately the music felt more like a run-through than a fully realized concert.

Behind the table lie untapped potentials for auditory innovation, but practical constraints often limit performative expression. The concerts by Fascia and Soli City succeeded in breaking the boundary between mere execution and true performance, reminding us that not all music needs to be presented with the same gestures – and that sometimes all it takes is a webcam and a laser lamp to make that clear.

in briefrelease
21.05.2025

Emergent Music

Lauri Supponen: »Dwell«
© Tuomas Tenkanen
© Tuomas Tenkanen

As an abstract micro manifesto Lauri Supponen describes his interest in »music that inhabits a second space and lingers there«, an invitation for us to dwell in the moment and discover music in its quiet emergence. 

»Gaz aux étages«, the first composition on Supponen’s breathtaking album, seems to test this idea as it unfolds with whispered bow strokes devoid of pitch. It is as if the piece itself is an entity wondering if it will prove to be music as it tentatively investigates its own constituent components. A subtle opening to an album that answers this question with clarity in its eponymous second work »Dwell« (tracks 2–5), exploring a fascinating microtonal realm. In virtuoso performances of astonishing accuracy, guitarist Petri Kumela and vocalist Tuuli Lindeberg bring Supponen’s demanding four-movement duo to life. The guitar writing in Dwell recalls Norwegian composer Martin Rane Bauck’s Fretted with Golden Fire with its drone-like microtonal strumming – a connection substantiated by the album notes, which reveal both composers know each other and have collaborated with bass clarinetist Madison Greenstone. 

The dwelling-space Supponen offers in »Eau & gaz à tous les étages« and »Opus Nen«, return the listener to a more remote sonic space, reminiscent of the album’s opening albeit with tighter compositional sense. Performed with intensity by Madison Greenstone and baritone saxophonist Sikri Lehko, they consolidate the pervasive feeling that Dwell is a uniquely inspired collaboration.

© PR

»Every moment is nothing but the uttermost end of the past. Music makes this edge wide and beautiful.«

Sven Helbig is a German composer and producer known for combining orchestral and choral music with electronic elements and a strong poetic sensibility. A self-taught musician raised in Eisenhüttenstadt, he released his debut album Pocket Symphonies on Deutsche Grammophon to critical acclaim for its emotional depth and formal precision. Helbig has collaborated with ensembles such as the BBC Singers, Fauré Quartett, and Staatskapelle Dresden, as well as with artists like Rammstein and the Pet Shop Boys. He just released REQUIEM A on Deutsche Grammophon. It is a deeply personal and reflective composition, intertwining classical Latin liturgical texts with new ones written by Helbig himself. The work revolves around themes of loss, memory, and the possibility of renewal – with the »A« in the title symbolizing Anfang (beginning) and the belief in a new start after devastation.

© Kåre Viemose

»Recently, I discovered that when a couple of thousand people clap their thick gloves in minus 30 degrees, it sounds like the softest techno – a freezing space where the cold air turns into a wave of warmth, and we, in a moment of collective devotion, become one with the rhythm, one with the invisible bond that connects us in the warmth of silence. Music is not just sounds, but a vain attempt to capture the infinite, which has always been and always will be.«

Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek has been the editor-in-chief of Seismograf since 2021. He is also a music critic and cultural journalist at Kristeligt Dagblad and Århus Stiftstidende/Avisen Danmark and has over the years written to publications such as Kunsten.nu, Glissando (Poland), Neural (Italy), Raw Vision (UK), Nutida Musik (Sweden), Kunstkritikk (DK/Sweden), Iscene.dk, B.T., and Jazz Special. He is the author (together with Lars Muhl) of the book HVA' SAA! En guidet rutsjebanetur gennem Aarhus – før, nu og i fremtiden (2024) and has also contributed to the anthology on music criticism Man skal høre meget (ed. Thomas Michelsen and Claus Røllum-Larsen, 2024). He is a founder and partner in the Polish-Danish cultural organization Kultur(a), and wherever there is a piano, he will be there, eager to coax a melody from it.