Allan Gravgaard Madsen
26
Næ hov, opera fra nutiden?!
DR2: »Operarejsen – sæson 2«
© A&M Productions
Fjorten afsnit skulle vi ind i en serie, der nu strækker sig over to sæsoner, før nutidsmennesket Allan Gravgaard Madsen fik overbevist sine to medrejsende og et ikke vildt progressivt produktionsselskab om, at det da nok var en meget god idé at aflægge en opera fra dette årtusinde et besøg.
Således når den netop frigivne sæson to af Operarejsen også endelig forbi en kvindelig komponist i det, der ellers hidtil har været renæssancevæsnet Frederik Cilius’ selvtilfredst konservative optegning af det europæiske operaliv. Og tænk engang: Han begejstres, i hvert fald næsten, ganske gevaldigt for opdagelsen af Kaija Saariahos genrebøjende skoleskyderrefleksion Innocence (2018).
Her møder Cilius ikke blot spektrale klangmeditationer, men også et værk, der med akut samtidssnilde sender sine sangere i alle retninger, inklusive snerrende finsk folketone, samtidig med at opsætningen som sådan er så fuld af spændstig dramatik, at selv den ikke længere helt utrænede Rasmus Bruun er ekstatisk, da han kommer ud af operahuset i Helsinki.
Enige bliver de vist nok om, at Saariaho er mere sanselig instrumentalt end vokalt, hvilket er såre sandt, men glædes kan alle tre rejsende – ikke mindst en pludseligt vågen Allan Gravgaard Madsen – over, at samtidsopera faktisk kan være en ekstremt besættende oplevelse.
Halløj for et vendepunkt i den vildt charmerende, men jo også irriterende reaktionære rejseserie. Hvad kan der ikke ske i den sæson tre, som der æggende teases for til slut?
»Music is the infinite sound of humanity, in all of its manifestations. It is the essence of who we are, what we fear and what we hope for. Nobody owns music, and yet it is absolutely who you are, the very DNA of your soul.«
Seb Doubinsky is a bilingual French dystopian fiction author and academic. His »city-states cycle« has put him on the map of notable authors of the genre. He has been long-listed for an Arthur C Clarke award, won the Foreword Reviews bronze award for Missing Signal and his latest novel is short-listed for the 2025 Foreword Reviews award. He lives in Aarhus, Denmark, where he teaches French history, literature and culture at the university.
© Mateusz Szota
»For me, music is a particular engine for diversity, identity, individuality, and community. Music has an immediate ability both to create and strengthen safe spaces and to expand and tear apart the boundaries of existence.«
Artist, curator, and educator Jacob Eriksen works between Struer and Berlin. He is head of Sound Art Lab, festival director of Struer Tracks, director of studies at 89 Sound Art School, and teaches Sound Studies and Sonic Arts at UdK Berlin.
Fata Morgana Between Two Continents
Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard & Michael Pisaro-Liu: »Fata Morgana«
© PR
Back in the day, people watched Beverly Hills 90210 simply because it filled the flow-TV schedule. Artist Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard, too, spent his youth wandering through those virtual Californian landscapes. In the project Fata Morgana, Løkkegaard and American composer Michael Pisaro-Liu explore this strange experience between place and fiction. With the alto recorder as their weapon, they invite us both home and away. And, as a nostalgic homage to bygone media realities, the project comes with an A-side and a B-side. It begins with »Visit«: the crackle of forest floor near Løkkegaard’s childhood home in western Jutland, recorded in 2021. The microphone is placed somewhere, a few steps are taken – and then silence... Far away, the alto recorder begins a melody surrounded by birdsong. This homely soundscape is woven into the listener’s own sense of place. Was that a car driving by – here? Or there?
On the B-side, »Visitation«, Pisaro-Liu repositions the flute piece in California in 2024. The tension rises; the melody is visited and haunted from the other side of the globe. It is disturbed and distorted by electric signals, siren tones, interfering noise, and fragments of American voices murmuring things about »fever dream« and »not anything in particular.«
For indeed, there isn’t really anything. It’s classic Løkkegaard: an imagined world unfolding in the listener’s mind. It could have been done in less than 2x22 minutes, but the idea is strong, simple, and well executed. Like the sonic version of a cartoon mirage shimmering falsely in the sharp Californian sunlight.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
© Malthe Ivarsson
»For me, music is the light that streams in through our windows and touches the human mind. Music is community – something we create together. Music is the other language – the one that can be spoken when all words and conversations have been worn to pieces.«
Mark Solborg is a Danish-Argentinian guitarist, composer, and improviser, educated at institutions including the Rhythmic Music Conservatory and New School University in New York. He has released 28 albums of his own works and collaborated with figures such as Evan Parker, Susana Santos Silva, and Herb Robertson – often on the artist-run label ILK, which he co-founded. His music has been performed in 23 countries and involves musicians from 15 nations. Projects such as TUNGEMÅL and BABEL explore the role of the electric guitar in acoustic spaces, and his practice also includes collaborations with theatre, film, and visual art. Solborg is a recipient of a Reumert Award, has been honored by the Danish Arts Foundation, and in 2024 was nominated for a Danish Music Award as Composer of the Year. He is currently releasing the album Confluencia.
When Machines Dream: The Electronic Poetry of Oh No Noh
Oh No Noh: »As Late As Possible«
© Nikolas Fabian Kammerer
There’s something distinctly mechanical about Oh No Noh’s album As Late As Possible. Like a warped, crumpled tape, melodies bubble to the surface, and the offbeat rhythms repeat with the halting tempo of a scratched LP. It’s easy to place Oh No Noh within the esteemed German tradition of blurring the lines between human and machine, but on As Late As Possible, the machine sounds more like a distant relative than a deliberate artistic objective.
Behind Oh No Noh is Leipzig-based guitarist Markus Rom. In addition to a wealth of synthesizers and tape loops, the album’s 11 tracks are performed using guitar, drums, banjo, clarinet, and organ. The absence of vocals sets the album in a subdued, cinematic mood, and the music feels like a nostalgic inner monologue, told with a warm affection for the melancholy of outdated technologies.
Although mechanical sensibilities are prominent throughout the album, several tracks are driven by more melodic band arrangements. But to me, As Late As Possible is clearly most compelling on the less melodic pieces. The crooked and noisy »Fawn« or the hesitant closing track »Ore« are moments where the dialogue with the machine elevates the music in ways that the more melodic, band-oriented pieces don’t quite reach. These are places where the machines sigh nostalgically and form small, imperfect thought bubbles that cut off and restart again.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek