Absurd Beauty in the Theatre of Noise

The term Dadaism must be used with caution – it easily risks becoming a cliché and trampling disrespectfully on its origins. Nevertheless, it’s hard to avoid Dada when listening to The Swamp, created by Norwegian experimental composers Maja Ratkje, Torstein Slåen, and Sigurd Ytre-Arne. The album is a 40-minute chaotic mirror of our times, shaped by merciless improvisation, noise drones, and Ratkje’s absurd vocalizations.

The music is raw, rancid, and deliberately un-beautiful – a constant stream of manipulated field recordings, reminiscent of a horror film foley studio. Bells, metallic clanks, white noise, and industrial sounds are warped together, driven by a syncopated, menacing rhythm and an underlying fuzz drone. Most fascinating is Ratkje’s voice, which appears as a riddle: is she singing in Celtic, Norwegian, or pure gibberish? The latter seems most likely and evokes the Dada poetry of Kurt Schwitters, particularly his 1932 Ursonate. At the same time, her vocal techniques dig deep into Nordic soil – conjuring the spirit of völva chants and Viking songs.

The combination of controlled noise and purposeful chaos elevates much of the album, with the opening track and the completely unhinged »Discomanic« standing out. The former is as close as the trio gets to something conventional; the latter borders on pure sound art. Only the two slower pieces – the seven-minute-long »Oligarchification« and »Lullaby for Trembling Hearts« – tend to drag a bit. Otherwise, the group manages to keep the material focused, sharp, and intensely trippy. It’s impressive how effectively it all works, even as the expression remains so relentless and challenging.

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek