in brief
30.10.2023

Ukraine – og Gaza? – på kanten af scenen

Copenhagen Phil: Afgørende øjeblikke #6: »Stemmer fra Ukraine« – Henryk Górecki: 3. symfoni (Symfonia pieśni żałosnych/Symphony of Sorrowful Songs)
© Kim Matthäi Leland
© Kim Matthäi Leland

Den tykke scenerøg begyndte allerede før koncerten at sive fra scenen ud i balkonfoyeren. Den slørede mit blik, men gjorde min hørelse desto skarpere. Og jeg var tydeligvis ikke den eneste: Publikum lyttede sjældent koncentreret, undervejs iblandet snøften og undertrykt gråd. 

Polske Henryk Góreckis 3. symfoni fra 1976 er et hovedværk inden for den neo-tonale og neo-minimalistiske østeuropæiske tradition fra Estland til Georgien. Værket er lige så inderligt, lige så smukt i al sin monumentale langsomhed, som det er stramt konciperet. Et værk, der i Giordano Bellincampis og orkestrets sikre hænder, og med en fænomenalt velsyngende og -agerende Henriette Bonde-Hansen, lød præcis, som jeg havde håbet på.

Et enkelt dramaturgisk greb udvidede rammerne for værket og skabte endnu mere nærvær: I tre lange blokke, én før hver af værkets tre satser, fremsagde fem skuespillere på skift rystende, men ikke unødigt udpenslende, skildringer fra krigen i Ukraine. Det kunne sagtens have været Gaza.

Henimod slutningen dukkede værkets første håbefulde passage op – som om den uduelige menneskehed, der er dumpet så utrolig mange gange før, måske alligevel engang vil kunne bestå Guds store eksamen. Netop her tog Henriette Bonde-Hansen sin node i hånden og gik helt ud på kanten af scenen for at synge videre. Da hun var færdig, vendte hun uden at tage blikket fra publikum den sidste side, så alle kunne se, at nu var fortællingen slut. En ny kunne begynde, når publikum hver for sig gik hjem og genkaldte sig værket.

© 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.

in briefrelease
04.07

When Machines Dream: The Electronic Poetry of Oh No Noh

Oh No Noh: »As Late As Possible«
© Nikolas Fabian Kammerer
© 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

© Hreinn Gudlaugsson

»Music for me is like a sourdough. If you don't feed it right it is going to die. If you feed it correctly a lot of people can benefit from it.« 

Halym Kim is a drummer, composer and project coordinator based in Copenhagen. His music is mainly based in free improvisation and experimental music but performs also as a traditional Korean percussionist. He has a Master and an Advanced Postgraduate Diploma in Music Performance from RMC in Copenhagen. Together with Nana Pi he organizes Impro Camp which is a music camp for free and structured improvised music that is happening every year in Fredericia, Denmark.

© DMF

»Music for me is a tool of infinite expression. It’s where I’ve had the most complex conversations and open-minded experiences. It is the highest form of energy I know.«

Nana Pi is a saxophonist, composer and conductor working within the experimental music scene. She has developed a unique musical vocabulary on the saxophone by incorporating objects and extended techniques, pushing the boundaries of sonic expression. Beyond her work as a saxophonist, she is known for conducting improvisation using her music sign language, Extemporize, for which she received the P8 Jazz Award Årets Ildsjæl in 2020. She is a member of the well established record label Barefoot Records. In addition to her musical career, Nana Pi is organizing events such as Impro Camp and FredagsJAM that focuses on creating networks and inspiring music environments between musicians.

© PR

»For me, music is an emotional refuge. When I sit at the piano I feel safe, it's where I can release everything I carry inside. It's not about performing, it's about being honest, vulnerable and free.«

Samanta Yubero, known artistically as Samyula, is a composer, pianist, and neuroscientist based in Barcelona. Trained as a classical pianist and holding a PhD in her scientific field, Samyula bridges the worlds of art and science in her work. Her music – often within neoclassicism – blends both serene and intense piano melodies with vivid, dynamic string arrangements, creating emotionally resonant and immersive soundscapes. With a deep passion for both composition and performance, Samyula offers audiences a uniquely powerful and moving experience.