Posts Tagged ‘reflective’

At a time when artificial intelligence is increasingly influencing the music industry, Hannah Schneider chooses a different path. On her new album In This Room, she insists on presence, intuition, and craftsmanship as the driving forces behind the creation of her music.

For several years, Hannah Schneider has explored what kind of music emerges in specific spaces and special connections—music in dialogue with other artworks or unique environments. Her new album was written and recorded during a two-month residency at Thorvaldsens Museum in Copenhagen. Here, the museum’s historic rooms became the setting for a musical experiment in which both composition and recording were turned upside down: what happens when acoustic instruments become the starting point for modern electronic music?

The result is a sensuous encounter between organic soundscapes, electronic beats, and strong melodies, a living dialogue between human and machine. Several fellow artists joined Hannah Schneider during the recording sessions at the museum, most notably Christian Balvig (When Saints Go Machine, and arranger for BBC proms), with whom she also produced the album and was a key creative collaborator. Danish poet Peter-Clement Woetmann, who has previously worked with Hannah Schneider, co-wrote lyrics for several of the songs with her. Other contributing artists include Caspar Clausen (Efterklang) and Øyunn on drums and vocals.

Hannah’s latest release from the album is a video for ‘The Apartment’, a track which describes the four walls of home closing in around you, as if the oxygen is being sucked out of you. Arranged almost as an old chamber music piece, but with an intense electronic soundscape behind, the track creates a sense of disorientation and bewilderment.

On the video, director Nanna Tange said, “I’ve always been very inspired by Hannah’s music, which in my opinion has a special cinematic quality, and the track ‘The Apartment’ quickly created images in my mind. That simultaneously fragile and grand atmosphere… and the space it gives to let the narrative and the visuals go a little wild.”

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With In This Room, Hannah Schneider continues to cement her position as a singular voice within Nordic electronic music, where introspection, poetry, and enveloping production merge into a quiet yet powerful expression. Her music has been used extensively in film, television and on some of the largest theater stages in Scandinavia and in 2023 and 2024 she won the Danish composers prize ‘Carl Prisen’ together with the contemporary jazz duo Kaleiido, for her work on the albums Elements and Places.

As a composer, Hannah has made a strong mark in recent years, where she has created commissioned pieces for several of the essential museums and cultural institutions across Denmark. From 2016-2021, Hannah was one half of the electronic duo AyOwA, which combine noise pop with vapor wave and melodies with improvisation in an atmospheric and playful mix with a dreamy approach. The duo has received international attention with their remarkable sound and songs, and has received airplay from  BBC Radio 1 and BBC 6 Music and press acclaim from The Huffington Post, Wonderland Magazine and  Clash to name a few. Hannah is also part of the performance duo Philip | Schneider, who create seductive spatial compositions and installations that engage the body, ears and mind. Starting from the voice, they explore the boundaries between the worlds of music and art.

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Mortality Tables – 27th February 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Mortality Tables’ Impermanence Project continues apace, this time with a nine-minute work by alka, with spoken word by Andrew Brenza. This piece uses a 1979 / 80 cassette recording of Mortality Tables founder Mat Smith singing Marie Lloyd’s music hall song ‘My Old Man (Said Follow The Van)’ with his late father, James.

As Bryan Michael (alka) writes, ‘I felt there was a parallel between the rent collector-avoiding moonlight flits that inspired ‘My Old Man (Said Follow The Van)’ and the fleeting, ever mutable nature of life. I also like the idea of moments being captured within magnetic fields – a cassette, in this instance – which can then be re-played. To me, they’re like ghosts of memories.

Given just how fragile those magnetic fields are – prone to deterioration and even erasure – while the very tape itself is liable to stretching, warping, being chewed in the heads and rendered unplayable, or even snapping, it feels as if the medium of the source material is, in itself, an encapsulation of impermanence. Even supposedly permanent records are always at risk of ceasing to be.

And, indeed, such a simple recording, likely made for fun in the moment without a view to posterity, absolutely captures the essence of impermanence; James is no longer with us, but his voice lives on here, while the voice of Mat as a child is a reminder that childhood, too, is but a stage, and one which is, in the scheme of life, but brief.

Initially, the sound is so quiet that one may even think there is nothing but silence, but gradually, soft, gently pulsating synth tones fade in. The instrumentation is sparse, ethereal, cloud-like, while the voices drift amidst a soft, dreamy haze, very much creating the effect of the ‘ghosts of memories’ of which alka speaks. It isn’t until the final three minutes that Brenza’s spoken word contribution begins, reflecting on impermanence and mortality, and ‘the way I started to dress like my father once, after his death, because it made me feel close..’

The different elements are drawn together in an almost alchemic fashion, to produce a work which is not lugubrious, but wistful and contemplative.

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Dilettante return with their second album Life of the Party, Pidgeon’s first totally self-produced record and her most personal one yet. Made in the confines of a converted freight container, the album is an outpouring of frustration towards societal pressures and the acceptance of realising she sees the world differently to others. “I went to see Poor Things and I really felt like Emma Stone’s character made sense to me,” explains Francesca. “She’s really literal and sort of just looks at the way polite society always does things and says, ‘why are we doing that? That doesn’t make sense, let’s do it this way’.”

Life Of The Party covers a range of topics, from turning thirty and feeling the pressure to start a family, to feeling constrained within monogamous relationships as well as the more weighty matter of speaking out about sexual assault and dealing with the associated repercussions.

Sonically, the album maintains Dilettante’s signature art pop sound and impressive loop pedal skills whilst also diving into a more synth heavy realm. In parts, the record also sees Pidgeon exploring a gentler sound, reverting back to a more traditional and raw songwriting “I’d been listening to Andy Shauf and Harry Nilsson a lot and I was trying to actually write from the piano”. Life of the Party sees Dilettante continue to push boundaries, “This record is, at times, the weirdest stuff I’ve ever put out and at times the poppiest,” she adds.

To coincide with the release, Dilettante have released a video for the title track. Watch it here:

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12th July 2024

James  Wells

This may be Lanna’s debut single, but she’s by no means new to the industry, and has featured a couple of times here at Aural Aggravation with her band Miss Kill, who have garnered some thumbs up for their feisty grungy / alt rock sound.

Initially, I felt a sense of disappointment, assuming – erroneously, as it turns out – that the duo had parting and would never fulfil the early promise and future potential. It came as a relief to discover that Miss Kill are thriving, and have an album out soon, but in the meantime, Alanna is launching a parallel solo career. It’s a twofer!

But what’s interesting about Lanna’s debut single is that while her bio indicates a continuation of Miss Kill’s energetic flight, their emotive grunge stylings, again referencing inspiration from ‘Alternative, Garage and Pop artists like The Kooks, Hole, Cherry Glazerr, Chris Isaak, Placebo & Pearl Jam’, this feels like quite a departure. The premise is that, ‘rather than whine about breakups and having your heart broken’, ‘Forever’ ‘is all about the amazing feeling you get when you’ve found your special one.’

But for a song that’s so much about an effervescent emotional state, it’s remarkably subdued, with a soft, delicate piano, introspective vocal and backed-off drums with a hushed rimshot keeping slow and steady time. It may be a million miles wide of the mark, but this debut sounds for all the world like Lanna is pining for the thing she’s lost, a sad celebration for the loss of a special one as she finds herself bereft and alone.

That doesn’t mean that ‘Forever’ isn’t true to those principles of grunge and alternative rock, but probably feels more like a mid-album slowie than a lead single, and is more Chris Isaak than Pearl Jam or Hole. Still, it’s a well-realised song with an emotional weight that’s conveyed with sincerity, and leaves many doors open for future releases.

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Edinburgh born Kendall based artist Celestial North has shared ‘Yarrow’, a haunting atmospheric ‘botanical’ soundtrack.  For fans of Nils Frahm, Olafur Arnalds or Sigur Ros, this reflective and meditative piece gently sways with a wash of pianos and sighing melodies. It’s a tantalizing other side of Celestial North’s artistry and a teaser for her album released later this year. 

Watch the video for ‘Yarrow’ here:

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She says of the song:  “I often think in ‘music’. My thoughts are usually awash with colours and sounds. I was sitting trying to meditate, or contemplate, beside the yarrow patch in my garden. I was finding it difficult to articulate how I was feeling and started to feel a bit frustrated. I decided to sit quietly and start again. I realised that I didn’t really have any words to write down as such but I did have a tune playing in my head. I decided to record this tune on my piano and added some other elements that I felt benefitted the song — a bodhran drum, a choir, the rustling of the yarrow patch and the roses recorded from my garden and some simple electronic sounds.  This botanical soundscape is representative of how I felt whilst I was sitting with the yarrow and the tune played on the piano is the tune that was playing in my head whilst sitting with the plant."

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Fabrique Records – 29th April 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

On her latest project, Jana Irmert shrinks the focus of her thoughts and her music on the microcosmic – although that certainly doesn’t extend to the microtonal. What Happens At Night is an intensely-focused work that places the lens onto textures and tones, and an examination of the relationship between the physical and the cerebral. You may call it a celebration of overthinking, but ‘philosophical’ feels a more appropriate term for her musical meditation on life and death – specifically death and beyond, the part of the life journey no-one has ever reported on and will, one assumes, be forever unknown and unknowable.

The liner notes set out the granular nature of the album’s composition: ‘Like layers of sediment, sounds are being pushed up from underneath, floating away or sinking back to the bottom. At the core of the album lies a question: What will be left of us? While Earth melts, we go on. But eventually, there will be a point in the future where all that will be left of humanity is a thin layer of rock. While this may seem like a deeply gloomy prospect, it also carries a great deal of comfort: the reminder that we are only a small particle in a vast system so big that we can never fully grasp’.

This is the limitation we all live with: the inability to comprehend life without us, what it would be like to not exist. Much of it’s ego, but perhaps it’s also a preprogramed limitation. Everything is dust, and once we pass, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we become desert, and nothing changes: the world goes on… and on. And that’s a disheartening prospect; for the majority, our legacy won’t extend beyond our lifetimes, and the world at large is unaware of our existence while we’re here, let alone likely to experience any ripples in our wake. But even the world will be finite, ultimately. It will be swallowed by the sun in supernova. But none of us will be here to report on it by then.

What Happens At Night is dark and stark, and with just four tracks and a running time of less than half an hour, it’s perhaps technically only an EP, but feels like an album in every respect.

There’s a dolorous chime of a bell and a shrieking anguish of tortured spirits trailing like comets fading through the sky at the start of the album’s first piece, ‘Particles’, and everything simply floats and drifts. It’s ambient in the conventional sense: it’s background, you don’t really pay close attention while it’s playing, but it does subtly slant the mood.

‘Ashes’ is but a drifting fragment between the megalithic pieces on either side: it’s barely three minutes in duration. If ‘Dust is the Rust of Time’ is sparse it’s also dense, and a sedated heartbeat pulses uncomfortably throughout, amidst shuddering, gasping breaths of panic. You feel the anxiety at the passing of time; what have you achieved, and what will be your legacy? How will you be remembered in a world without you? It’s a tense, dense, gloomy sound, and you come to realise you are nothing, you’re simply here to go, and one day you will be but dust. Deal with it. And yet… It’s not a question of there being something more beyond, as such. And yet… ‘Stratum’ closes, and it’s the splash of waves and the quiet roar of a buffeting wind and the slow sound of the dust settling as incrementally, life returns to earth in slow, sedimentary layers, and each layer fossilises a period in time for all eternity. You may be dust, you may be forgotten, but in some form, are eternal in the earth.

Irmert articulates nothing specifically or directly here, but instead, What Happens At Night provides a sonic backdrop which invites contemplation.

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