in brief
16.03.2023

Blood, sweat and Chopin

Jakub Piątek: »Pianoforte«
© PR
© PR

»They are serious machines. They have been training all their lives. They are like the CIA,« it says in the documentary Pianoforte, which follows a number of pianists up to The International Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw. The young people experience dramas in the music that they have not yet experienced in real life. One will celebrate a possible victory with a Chopin tattoo. Another films himself endlessly with his iPhone: »The more you look like Chopin, the better«. It’s all about Chopin hair. Tangent equilibrium goes hand in hand with attitude and showmanship, which the sensitive pianistic machines must also control. The ecstasy and revolutions of the Polish-French pianistic guru's super-romantic music also demands étude (»practice«, »eagerness«, »interest«, »occupation«).

How to compete in music? Jakub Piątek’s Pianoforte depicts in a raw and moving way these piano-fighters backstage. While their nerves are sweating under their nice concert clothes. While they articulate that there is no plan B. As much as they love the polonaises and nocturnes they play, as much is their absolute respect, coupled with the fear of experiencing a blackout when it is their turn to – perhaps – write the next chapter in this piano battle, which has taken place since 1927 and is as brutal as fist fighting. But also so damn beautiful. It just sounds so damn good when 17-year-old Hao's delicate piano fingers hit the piano in the kitchen at home in China, while his mother is cooking just beside him. Bread and Chopin – that's life!

Translation from Danish: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

 

© Christoffer Askman
© Christoffer Askman

From the Culture Yard in Helsingør, ships glide past Kronborg Castle through the narrow waters of the Øresund – a reminder of the trade routes that, for centuries, have carried goods, people and power between the Nordic region and the wider world. It is an apt point of departure for the Passage Festival, and for Marie Dahl's vocal work Silk. Sugar. Sand, which explores the intertwined histories of three materials.

Silk. Sugar. Sand is a vocal performance in three acts tracing the historical journeys of these materials through colonialism, the global economy and geopolitics. Five singers from Ars Nova Copenhagen perform within a minimalist scenography consisting almost entirely of coloured light and three sets of costumes that transform throughout the performance: first silk dresses, then crinoline-like structures evoking sugar loaves, and finally grey stone-like forms suggesting accumulations of sand.

The work's central device is to translate the physical properties of these materials into vocal expression. At one moment, the elasticity of silk becomes soft, flowing polyphony; at the next, a cocoon-like electronic crackle. Sugar's crystalline structure is rendered as sharp vocal attacks – brief, whip-like cracks – as well as sweet, intimate whispers, while sand creaks and rustles, resonating with a libretto about economy and domination, violence and desire.

The performance has no conventional narrative, and the five singers portray no distinct characters, moving somewhat stiffly across the stage, as performers often do when their primary focus is on the voice. Comparisons with Hotel Pro Forma's Flammenwerfer are difficult to avoid. There, the production's rigorous aesthetic was counterbalanced by C.F. Hill's wildly expressive visual universe and Blixa Bargeld's deeply vulnerable stage presence. Those qualities are missing from Marie Dahl's carefully controlled staging, which could have benefited from more of the sensitivity and chaos that also form part of Kirsten Dehlholm's artistic legacy.

© PR

»To us, music is a primal, elemental force that allows us to shed our inhibitions.«

Leizure is a Copenhagen-based quintet operating at the intersection of post-punk, no wave, and experimental rock. The band’s sound is characterized by atonal vocals, piercing saxophone, hypnotic guitar riffs, and a rhythmic foundation that oscillates between tight precision and raw intensity. 

The band’s upcoming album, The Guillotine, explores themes such as societal decay, upheaval, and the challenging of established structures – all conveyed through a direct and high-energy musical style.

© Robin Skjoldborg
© Robin Skjoldborg

Danish musician, author, and artist Martin Hall has died at the age of 63. According to his family, he passed away from a heart attack at his home in Frederiksberg on Tuesday, 21 July.

Since the early 1980s, Hall left an indelible mark on Danish music and cultural life – first with Ballet Mécanique and Under For, and later through an extensive solo career that moved effortlessly between experimental music, electronic pop, poetry, performance, and literature. He leaves behind one of the most substantial discographies and bibliographies in Danish cultural history.

© Kåre Viemose
© Kåre Viemose

Seismograf is heading off on summer break to check out the ocean's deep vibrations.  🌊🤿  See you in August. Have a great summer!

in brieflive
15.07

Noise in the White Cube

Aros: »Unruly – the Body in Punk«
© Karen Knorr & Olivier Richon, Vortex 6 from the Punks series, 1976 - 1977, gelatin silver print on paper,18,7 x 28,2 cm, Tate. Courtesy of the artists.
© Karen Knorr & Olivier Richon, Vortex 6 from the Punks series, 1976 - 1977, gelatin silver print on paper,18,7 x 28,2 cm, Tate. Courtesy of the artists.

The first thing that hits you at Aros' Unruly – the Body in Punk isn't dog collars, leather jackets or fishnet stockings. It's the sound. It rumbles through the galleries. After all, what is punk doing in a museum? Punk was never made for museums. It's dirty, loud and ephemeral. It thrives on amateurism, mistakes and resistance. One might fear that the white cube would turn three-chord fury into cultural history and noise into background music. Curator Marie Arleth Skov has created an exhibition in which sound doesn't merely illustrate history – it propels it. Raw guitars, piercing saxophones, flickering Super 8 films and concert footage merge into a rush of noise, images and bodies.

Unruly is not a comprehensive history of punk but a sharply focused snapshot of a culture in which sound and the body were inseparable. Punk's godmothers appear alongside Danish bands such as Lost Kids, Pussy Punk and Sods in previously unseen footage from a legendary punk happening in Copenhagen. A leather drum kit by Käthe Kruse of Die Tödliche Doris stands as a sculpture bearing the dry title In Leder, while Cornelia Schleime's video reveals the vulnerability and poetry that also inhabited punk rebellion. The contrast with Erik Satie's stripped-back piano music is exquisite. Walking through the exhibition feels like stepping inside a three-dimensional fanzine. Everywhere, it celebrates misfits and those who never asked for permission. Leopard-print cushions, raw materials and tactile installations make you feel as if you could almost touch punk itself.

In art museums, sound is often reduced to atmosphere. Here, it becomes a material on equal footing with fabric, video and the body. Noise is treated as an artistic method rather than a soundtrack. Fifty-year-old noise still sounds astonishingly contemporary as it resonates with the exhibition's newer works. You feel it vibrating through your body. Instead of muting the world, the museum becomes an amplifier.

Can rebellion survive inside a museum? Unruly shows that punk's energy does not necessarily disappear when it enters an institution. Only two things are missing: the chance to experience the exhibition at four o'clock in the morning – and a lavish catalogue bound in latex.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek