The Cello Within the Comfort Zone

27
mar
kortkritik
Josefine Opsahl: »Cytropia«
© Lis Kasper Bang
© Lis Kasper Bang

There are twelve tracks on Josefine Opsahl’s album Cytropia, each with the duration of a rock song. Remarkably, there is a straight line from the first to the last – both in timbre, rhythm, melody, atmosphere, and playing. The ears are embraced by a gentle melancholy created by small cello figures in long sequences, with a slow-moving cello melody on top. Some parts in minor, others more open.

She is receiving quite a lot of praise these days for her many projects – an opera and a ballet – alongside her work as a cellist-composer, and it must almost be due to the highly accessible, cohesive, and dreamy sound she consistently delivers. I must admit that I have become somewhat skeptical along the way. Both as a musician and as a composer, I wish she would challenge herself with new approaches and new visions for the stories her music should tell. On Cytropia, we approach a constant state of uniform sound, evoking thoughts of the deliberate inertia of New Age composers.

There are quite beautiful moments along the way. The track »Cyborg« is crystal-clear in its surface. A piece like »Leaverecalls«, in its mechanics, the American minimalism of Philip Glass. But once again, one misses displacements and rhythmic additions that could challenge the static soundscape. The last hundred years of experimentation have expanded the battlefield of cello playing. Opsahl draws on some of these experiences to create her own small mechanical accompaniments for herself. Yet, the setup with a sequencer and a cello seems limiting in allowing Opsahl to explore timbres and ideas where the gravity of melancholy can truly be felt.

12.06.2024

My name is Jussi Parikka – would you like to see my playlist?

© Pavlos Fysakis

»Music involves a mix of noise, of existing or fabricated instruments, of alternative worlds that the sounds and voices assemble. Some are gentle, some less so. We shift gears with music, it shifts intensity, we shift with it. I listen when I can.«

Jussi Parikka is a Finnish cultural historian and writer who works at Aarhus University as professor of Digital Aesthetics and Culture. After some 15 years in the UK, he continues in Denmark his work on how ecology, digital culture, art and design, and philosophy intersect. He has written on visual culture and history and archaeology of media, including the recent books Operational Images (2023) and Living Surfaces: Images, Plants, and Environments of Media (2024) which is co-authored with the Madrid-based artist Abelardo Gil-Fournier. Besides his writing and work as educator, he has been active as a curator including the recent show Climate Engines at Laboral, in Gijon (Spain) that was co-curated with Daphne Dragona as well as his involvement in the curatorial team of Helsinki Biennial 2023.

08.06.2024

Mit navn er Jonas Frølund – vil du se min playliste?

© Birgit Tengberg

»Musik er en flygtig og eksklusiv kunstart, som i visse af sine udtryk og afskygninger afskærer mange fra at opleve den, men også en kilde, der kan tappes fra i det uendelige. Kilden har mange forgreninger, som til sammen breder sig over hele verden til nytte og gavn for alskens kulturer og befolkninger, og den tørrer – i modsætning til almindelige vandholdige kilder – ikke sådan lige ud.«

Jonas Frølund er klarinettist, iværksætter, kammermusiker, formand for Danmarks Underholdningsorkester og medlem af ensemblerne V Coloris (blæserkvintet), Trio Spell (med Jonathan Jakshøj, slagtøj, og Lea Han, klaver) og Duo Omni (med Bjarke Mogensen, akkordeon), uddannet fra DKDM og Pariserkonservatoriet (CNSMDP). Han er flittig fortolker og bestiller af ny musik, genreomfavnende, udfordringssøgende, glad og ivrig formidler, Musical America New Artist of the Month i november 2023 og Grammophone Music Magazine One to Watch i forbindelse med albummet Solo Alone and More.

Hvad ville du sige, hvis hele verden lyttede?

4
jun
kortkritik
Johanna Sulkunen: »Coexistence«
© Julie Montauk
© Julie Montauk

Den finskfødte sanger og komponist Johanna Sulkunen giver på albummet Coexistence mange andre udover hende selv muligheden for at få deres stemme hørt. Hun har stillet en række mennesker spørgsmålet: »Hvad ville du sige, hvis hele verden lyttede?« og har derefter samplet deres forskelligartede svar for så at bruge dem som en narrativ kerne på alnbummet. Resultatet er et sandt polyfonisk værk, hvor et væld af stemmer dukker frem uden umiddelbar kontekst, iblandet overvejende elektroniske kompositioner. Stemmerne fortæller, nynner, beklager sig, de transformeres, manipuleres til uigenkendelighed. Til tider lyder det næsten sakralt, som i indledningen til nummeret »XVIII Corporeal«, hvor synths med masser af rumklang tager sig kirkeligt ud. Andre gange hjemsøgt: I »XIX Coexisting« lyder vaklende stemmer som klagesange. Eller præget af en bittersød fredfyldthed, som i »XXIV How Dreams«, hvor en roligt udflydende lydside modsættes med stemmebidder om at blive udvist. 

Sommetider lyder de mange stemmer som fortrolige samtaler, andre gange som ensomme råb ud i intetheden. Små dele af et amorft hele – menneskehedens håb og frygt samlet.

Som helhed virker albummet mere som en collageværk end en samling af diskrete numre. De ikke-vokalbaserede dele af musikken fremstår ofte som stemningsskabende flader, der har til formål at give de mange anonyme udsagn pondus. Og det virker, mestendels. Det er ikke hver gang, at albummets flertallige fortællinger rammer en nerve, men når de gør, er det et spændende lyt.

De lagde trommestikkerne og efterlod os mutters alene

31
may
kortkritik
Spor Festival: Sandra Boss og Datterselskabet: »Mother Soldier«
© Mateusz Szota
© Mateusz Szota

»Træd af!« lød ordren fra en af de tre kvindelige performere i (opgraderet) militærlignende tøj. Men så kørte de meget blidt deres fingre på trommen, som var fastspændt om livet. »Træd an. Gør klar!« Igen hårdt. Men skindet på rammetrommen blev næsten aet. 

I performancen Mother Soldier af komponist Sandra Boss og koreograf Simone Wieroed satte de tre percussive kombattanter hele tiden en kæp i hjulet på »krigsmaskinen«, der jo i sin natur er født effektiv og stærk som Goliath. Så loose, med så synkoperede og smådriplende trommeslag og med så lyrisk klingende koklokker ville intet militærorkester marchere. Eller spille på små gong-instrumenter fastspændt omkring det mest sårbare: hjertet. Eller låne fra helende, østerlandske meditationsritualer. En sådan sammenstilling af krig og moderskab er kun mulig i kunstens verden. 

Mother Soldier dekonstruerer ikke idéen eller æstetikken omkring marchtrommer, og hvad vi bruger dem til. Krigens mekaniske lyde er opfindsomt oversat til noget andet. De tre performere står i geled, men det gør rytmerne ikke. Der er plads til pauser, tavshed og rytmer, som følger andre logikker. Da en af performerne slog på en stor gong, åbnede hun munden til et skrig. Der kom ikke noget skrig. Der var kun lyden af den store gong. Og stum smerte. Tilhørende tusinde og atter tusinde efterladte, før, nu og i fremtiden. For tøjet signalerede også, at disse krigere måske havde set fremtiden, hvor alt tyder på oprustning. Og flere krigstrommer. Til sidst lagde de tre kvinder stikkerne. De trådte af og efterlod os alene i Godsbanens store rå hal. 

27.05.2024

My name is Thomas Fleurquin – would you like to see my playlist?

© PR

»I never considered my job to be about music. My prime responsibility is to produce raw energy where people feel 'it’s happening right now'. Of course music and artists with talent are key ingredients but I think location and party philosophy are just as important to create an electric atmosphere. Try to go to a festival in Sweden or Norway – it’s a snooze-fest. Roskilde and Distortion are the two festivals in Scandinavia with this special touch. I never calculated how to get there, but I can see now 26 years later: My technique has been to be in a constant disequilibrium and to give away more than I could manage. I started with Distortion as my platform in 1998 and it started to go viral as an energy force in 2009 that is 11 years as a volunteer where almost everything was for free. When it exploded we became famous for out-of-control street parties with an unsophisticated music profile – but at its very heart, Distortion was a hard core rave, since 1998. And it is this rave energy that motivated us to turn the city upside down as a social experiment, more than it was music. It was both loving but also a little destructive. Then in 2014 and 2018 came Karrusel and Hangaren – two 'professional spinoffs' – I mean 'music products' based on electronic music. But Distortion is not a product – it is a raw uncontrollable energy, going in a hundred directions.« 

Thomas Fleurquin calls himself a Party Maker & Chief Architect of festivals, happenings, off-location events, mobile installations. Specialised in public space, social architecture and rave culture. Moved to Copenhagen and active in arts & culture since 1998. Raised in Paris, Danish mother French father. Founder of Distortion (festival), Karrusel (festival), Hangaren (venue), Human Office (newsletter), Animal (consulting agency), and the NusNus Secretariat.