Niels Rønsholdt
49
Skulle have sendt min dobbeltgænger
Frederiksberg Festspil: »Dobbeltgænger 1« + »Centalog«
© Reinhard Wilting
Ideen fejlede ingenting: lige at komme ud og høre et par nye strygekvartetter. Det havde været så længe siden! Selveste Danish String Quartet med nyt fra næsten lige så selveste Bent Sørensen. Og et megaværk fra altid alt for uberømmede Niels Rønsholdt. Det burde ikke kunne gå galt.
Men hvad havde dog den fabelagtige Sørensen rodet sig ud i? Efter tre kvarters opvisning med Schuberts sprudlende, glødende, men trods alt ubønhørligt lange Kvartet i G-dur satte DSQ gang i Sørensens Doppelgänger. Som altså viste sig at være det sidste, man orkede i øjeblikket: en halv times remix af Schuberts værk! I nye klæder, natürlich, men forvandlingerne havde karakter af fikse idéer, der gjorde Sørensen mere menneskelig, end jeg huskede ham fra pragtværket Second Symphony.
Hvad der virkede elegant i symfonien – idéer, der cirklede spøgelsesagtigt rundt i orkestret – blev forsøgt genanvendt fra start i kvartetten. En simpel durakkord blev sendt på mikrotonal omgang mellem musikerne, så det til sidst mindede om forvrængninger i et spejlkabinet. Manøvren havde øvelsespræg, koketteri var indtrykket.
Derpå fulgte buer, der faldt ned på strengene som en hård opbremsning. Tyve minutter senere var figuren tilbage, men nu vendt om til accelerationer. Et forsøg på at fremvise sammenhæng i et værk, der ellers virkede unødigt rodet og sprang fra koncept til koncept? Lidt glidninger på strengene; dæmpning for at skabe en sprød cembaloklang; en lang, sfærisk passage; tilbagevenden til Schubert og tonika. Den gode Sørensen var blevet sin egen dobbeltgænger i processen, halsende efter forlægget. Jeg tillod mig et frederiksbergsk »åh!«.
Iført nye forventninger troppede jeg op til Rønsholdts 100-satsede Centalog to dage senere. Milde skaber, dette var endnu værre! Bag heltemodige Taïga Quartet tikkede et antikt vægur ufortrødent i samfulde 75 minutter. En fornemmelse af eksamenslæsning hang over os. Nøgternt præsenterede Rønsholdt selv de kommende satser hvert tiende minut: »10 left, 11 left, 12 left« eller »40 right, 41 right« og, koket, »13 left, missing item, 15 left«. Handlede det om læseretningen i noden, om strøgets bevægelse? Klart stod det aldrig, men tænk, om man blev hørt i lektien senere.
Fra Taïga lød febrilske fragmenter med aleatoriske linjer og abrupt dynamik; store følelser var spærret inde. Det forekom fortænkt, uvedkommende. Og med uvanlig distance mellem koncept og toner: Kun to gange undervejs spillede de kliniske opremsninger en smule med i musikken, da musikerne udbrød et bestemt »left!« her, et »right!« der. Hvor var Rønsholdts velkendte performative overskud? Mystisk. Fra væggen lød det blot: Tik-tak, tik-tak.
The Electronic Altar
Fascia, Soli City, Nagaver
© 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.
Emergent Music
Lauri Supponen: »Dwell«
© 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.
»Music is hope, confusion, and memory talking with each other, leading us toward futures we haven't yet imagined.«
Patrick Becker is co-director of the Wolke Verlag publishing house and co-editor of the contemporary music magazine Positionen.