Niels Rønsholdt
50
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.
PowerPoint Against the Dark
Laurie Anderson with Sexmob: »Republic of Love«
© Ebru Yildiz
With her characteristic curiosity, Laurie Anderson opened Sunday’s concert in DR’s concert hall with a political statement and the remark, »Thank you for your attention to this matter.« The theme of the evening was a heavy political climate, to which Anderson – like a professor emerita of the avant-garde – offered a musical framing narrative of music, slideshow, and quotes from thinkers and artists who, each in their own way, nuance an increasingly dark world. A framework in which every piece of music had a clear purpose: to evaporate any residue of convention.
Slide by slide, the audience was guided through curious glimpses of the totalitarian and the conventional. The long list of words deleted from government documents by the Trump administration, for instance, served as an introduction to »Language Is a Virus«, inspired by writer William Burroughs, who also appeared on the screen behind Anderson and the band Sexmob. So did Lou Reed, Anderson’s late husband. Dressed in a glittering jacket that, like a kind of magical Kraftwerk, triggered sounds of drums, foghorns, and cash registers, Anderson shared the couple’s three life lessons while playfully dancing and narrating.
I don’t think I’ve ever attended a concert where the entire production team – both on and off stage – was credited with rolling end titles. Yet it felt like a completely natural conclusion to Anderson’s slightly dry and remarkably hopeful PowerPoint concert. A performance that, as a delightfully deconstructive reminder, united the experimental and the concrete in a hands-on first aid kit against tyranny and oppression.
© Peter Gannushkin
»Music for me is a world full of sound that you can explore, juggle with, systematize, be inspired by and form a starting point for meetings between people across cultures and generations.«
Håkon Berre (b. 1980) has made his mark as a central figure on the Danish improvised music scene. His practice is characterized by an expanded approach to percussion, where both traditional instruments and everyday objects – such as doorbells, tin plates, chains and kitchen utensils – are included in a nuanced and often unpredictable sonic expression. He has performed at clubs and festivals internationally and collaborated with a wide range of notable musicians, including Peter Brötzmann, Phil Minton, Axel Dörner, John Tchicai, Jamie Branch and Otomo Yoshihide. Berre contributes to an extensive discography with more than 40 releases, many of which on the artist-run label Barefoot Records, which he co-founded. He has also composed and arranged music for theatre and exhibitions, and worked on interactive sound installations shown in museums in Denmark and Germany. He is active in a number of ensembles and collaborations, including Ytterlandet, TEETH, VÍÍK and Mirror Matter, as well as in various duo and quartet constellations.
© Niklas Ottander
»Music is a deep, but not serious, spiritual practice, in which creator, collaborator, and consumer alike are their own personal pope.«
James Black (b. 1990) is a composer, performer, and artistic director of Klang Festival – Copenhagen Experimental Music. Originally from Bristol, England, they moved to Copenhagen in 2013. Black's works have attracted a large amount of attention both nationally and internationally for their signature combination of artistic courage and vulnerability, described by the Danish Arts Council as »a universe of real madness where everything goes«. Their work is a deep and personal exploration of topics such as religion, loss, and queer identity, that is unafraid to be stupid or serious in any direction.
© Christian Klintholm
»Music is just something for me.«
Christian Juncker is a Danish musician and songwriter who has released a number of Danish-language albums. He debuted in 1995 with the band Bloom. Together with his friend Jakob Groth Bastiansen, he formed the duo Juncker in 2002. He is also behind the Christmas carol »Luk julefreden ind« from 2024.
© Guy Wasserman
»Music, for me, reveals the emptiness of boundaries and definitions – in consciousness, in space, and in music itself.«
Idan Elmalem is an oud player and composer working across world and popular music, now presenting his debut instrumental EP and live performance project. Following years of collaboration within the Israeli music scene, he turns toward a more personal and intimate musical voice, blending traditional oud with a contemporary sensibility. Influenced by his studies with master Nissim Dakwar, Elmalem’s music explores the space between tradition and innovation. His debut EP, Time, features three live-recorded pieces that move between past, present, and future, combining classical Arabic and Persian elements with jazz, minimalism, and cinematic sound. Based in Tel Aviv, Elmalem draws on his Moroccan-Danish heritage in his work. He is a graduate of the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance and is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Ethnomusicology at the University of Haifa, alongside his work as a player and composer.