In brief
22.10.2023

A hypnotic dollop of lava

Dansk Danseteater/Copenhagen Phil: »Leaning Tree«
© Natascha Rydvald
© Natascha Rydvald

It might seem abstract, but dance is extraordinarily specific – an ultra-precise instrument of physical poetry. You shouldn’t even think about adding music unless the link is umbilical, unequivocal and clear. There are passages in Leaning Tree – a meeting of Dansk Danseteater with the Copenhagen Phil – which are utterly, mesmerizingly inspired: when the union of the aural and visual isn’t a union at all, but a single thing. Unfortunately, there aren’t enough of them. 

Choreographer Fernando Melo’s signature style is slow, legato, un-rhythmic. His group of welded human bodies often behaves like a dollop of lava, moving with a sluggish certainty. It’s hypnotic to look at but absolutely unmusical. Maybe that’s why Signe Lykke’s score for Leaning Tree so rarely channels what we’re seeing. 

Or is Melo not listening to Lykke? She speeds up or shifts gait; he can’t. Her throbbing, cooing spatial orchestral score can resemble Bent Sørensen without the fragile melodies. It livens up when congealed low brass and winds squeeze themselves into almost spectral harmonies. Tension skyrockets, but it counts for little on stage. 

Then the »leaning« – the stunningly beautiful, anti-gravitational choreographic conceit on which it all rests. It’s about 30 minutes before we see any real leaning. But gosh it’s exquisitely done, worth the wait even if it makes a lot of what went before seem like padding. 

The culmination, a vision of leaning bodies like swaying reeds, gets right into Lykke’s score. Or maybe vice versa. It’s not just glissandos we’re hearing, but elasticated harmonic movement – music composed with extraordinary delicacy of texture, harmonies built from the exacting placement and movement of individual instruments. Leaning Tree needs more of this sort of thing.

© Mishael Oladipo Fapohunda

»As Bertolt Brecht once wrote: 'In dark times, will there also be singing? Yes · there will be singing, about the dark times'.«

SLIM0 is a Copenhagen based doom/grunge/punk trio consisting of Mija Milovic (guitar), Lena Milovic (guitar) and Simin Stine Ramezanali (drums). The vocals of all three members can be heard throughout, the voice being a central element to the band's practice. SLIM0 uses minimal, albeit feisty arrangements to convey a strong sense of ominousness. Through crashed cymbals, distorted guitars and voices in unison, they present a full body of work hailing from personal takes on classic punk/rock tropes with SLIM0 as the omniscient narrator. Their debut album FORGIVENESS was released in October 2024 via 15 love. 

© PR

Cecilie Penney (b. 1990, Denmark) will be presenting the exhibition Rest and Routine – Duet for Sanatorium and Modern Hospital at Nikolaj Kunsthal from February. She is a visual artist and electronic composer working across sound, installation, video, and text. Her practice explores how infrastructure and cultural norms shape human behaviour, and how emotions and empathy unfold within structural, linguistic, and technological systems.

In recent years, Penney has focused in particular on the Scandinavian healthcare system and on how patients navigate institutions that can be difficult to access and understand. Through a conceptual approach, she examines how patients are often expected to conform to rigid frameworks that fail to accommodate individual needs. By creating imagined or alternative worlds, Penney explores new possibilities for healing and transformation within bureaucratic systems, while inviting reflection on how systemic change might emerge from emotional insight and collective rethinking.

Penney holds an MFA from the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in Copenhagen and a BFA in Fine Art Photography from HDK-Valand in Gothenburg.

© Søren Lynggaard
© Søren Lynggaard

It is difficult not to read a great deal into trumpeter, composer and all-round musical visionary Palle Mikkelborg’s new solo album Light. He has long since passed retirement age, withdrew from touring in 2024, and with this release has presented something that very much feels like a kind of farewell.

The opening track, Per Nørgård’s »At tænde lys« (»To Light a Candle«), is pure Mikkelborg: his lyrical, elevated and elegiac solo trumpet, in both form and expression, speaks directly to the listener’s heart. Elsewhere, he draws on old soundscape recordings, combining them with piano and trumpet. The interplay between the old and the new creates a compelling mystique and casts a subtle, unsettling shadow over the music.

»Capricorn« perhaps stands out most strongly: a tender and romantic reimagining for solo piano of one of his own pieces, like a loving glance back at bygone times and former triumphs. And then, of course, the closing track, Thomas Laub’s »Stille, hjerte, sol går ned« (»Be Still, Heart, the Sun is Setting«), where Mikkelborg’s melancholic trumpet is joined by Jakob Bro’s guitar, Helen Davies’ harp and Thomas Lis’s choral soundscape. Together they create a piece of music that truly feels like a farewell, marked by both uncertainty and sorrow, but also acceptance and gratitude.

All in all, Light is the perfect distillation of Mikkelborg’s musical life – a cavalcade of the qualities that have always defined him as a musician: light, colour, life, mysticism, love. Whether this will be the final release from Mikkelborg’s hand, I do not know, but if it should prove to be the case, few swan songs have ever sounded so beautiful.

In brieflive
22.01

»Is He Going to Play Three Pianos?«

August Rosenbaum: Klaverkoncert
© Josefine Seifert
© Josefine Seifert

»Is he going to play three pianos?« a boy asks. »Maybe he’s learned to play with his feet?« says an adult man. The audience on their way into the DR Concert Hall’s main auditorium comment on the setup for August Rosenbaum’s piano concert. Three Steinway grand pianos lined up is truly peculiar – actually comical.

When the concert began, I imagined I could hear differences between the instruments, though I would probably fail a blind test. Apart from a bit of playing with staccato on one piano and pedal on another, the setup was, frankly, underused. The piano playing was lacking, dominated by a single approach: pedal pressed all the way down, an active right hand primarily in the middle register, a left hand with a muted accompaniment, and a great deal of repetitive technique.

It felt like a gravity Rosenbaum could not escape. No idea or direction could break free; one always returned to the same place.

When there are two grand pianos for a concert, one of them is usually prepared. Rosenbaum had three (!) without using a single screw, coin, or ping-pong ball. Shouldn’t that be a criminal offense? Nor were any extended techniques employed, such as clusters or playing with the back of the hand.

The light show was charming, at times impressive. Still, it takes more goodwill than I possess to call the evening an audiovisual concert, as the program text told me it was. On the way out, I heard another man say, »It was actually quite exciting to hear him play.« I didn’t think so.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek

In briefrelease
21.01

Bumblebees Come With Punk

Smag På Dig Selv: »SPDS«
© PR
© PR

Smag På Dig is pretty punk. True, the instruments most commonly associated with the genre have been replaced by saxophones, and yes, the music sounds markedly different from what one would normally link with punk. Nevertheless, with their debut release SPDS, tenor saxophonist Oliver Lauridsen, baritone and bass saxophonist Thorbjørn Øllgaard, and drummer Albert Holberg have created a bona fide, high-energy punk album – packed with fun, mischief, seriousness, and anger.

The style is established from the very first track. The trio plays catchy, often pop-inflected melodies built on Øllgaard’s thunderously deep saxophones, Holberg’s tight drumming, and Lauridsen’s high-energy, lyrical tenor sax. Particularly effective is »Middelklassen avler kun skeletter«, which has a comparatively darker tone, a bass sax buzzing like a fat, murderous bumblebee, and a stronger focus on atmosphere than many of the other tracks – without sacrificing melody.

At the other end of the spectrum are tracks like »PGO HOT 50«, with its stomping tempo, cowbells, and an epic sax guyfrom hell, and »Negirî«, which, with Luna Ersahin on vocals and saz in the eleventh hour, lets the horns step into the background – not to mention Thorbjørn’s angry poems, addressing everything from globalization, climate change, and war to the art academy and one’s own worth as a human being. Impressively, it all hangs together; everything works in its diversity. And it convincingly illustrates the age-old punk dictum that you can be angry and still have fun at the same time.