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Some things take longer than planned... Unfortunately my solo concert at Lydbrøndene are postponed a year to 2026 August 15th. BUT - You can come and enjoy my release concert with Christian Rønn. October 14th, 20:00 at Metronomen, Godthåbsvej 33

We have made our second album called: Shadow Moves.
Enjoy our little video teaser:

Shadow Moves is the second album Christian Rønn and I have make together — a continuation of the deep artistic connection we began exploring on HeadSpace, which was released on Chant Records to warm critical reception.

This time, we pushed further into uncharted sonic terrain. Our shared language is rooted in improvisation and a desire to explore the edges of sound. I use extended vocal techniques; Christian brings a prepared grand piano, shaped and transformed in real time through live electronics. These elements meet in a way that feels organic — unpredictable but cohesive.

The music moves between lush acoustic textures and raw, abstract soundscapes. Sometimes intimate, sometimes expansive — like drifting along the edge of the stratosphere, where time bends and gravity lets go.

Shadow Moves is a listening experience that’s both visceral and cerebral. It asks for attention and rewards it. It’s a work that stretches the boundaries of musical communication — and for me, it’s also a meditation on presence, space, and transformation.

The album is partly inspired by Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows — especially the way he writes about slowness and subtlety. A friend told me it became part of their early morning ritual — and I really love that.

“Listening to them before the day begins became a meditative ritual.” George Platts, 5:00 a.m., Vancouver, June 22, 2025

Have you ever had music become part of your ritual?

I love your comments, thanks a lot for being here with me and asking me these great questions. Recently, someone asked how I know when a piece of music is “good.”

The truth? I don’t — not right away.

When I’m deep in the work, I can’t trust my first reaction. In the moment, an idea can feel brilliant, intoxicating even. But the next morning can be sobering — what seemed like magic might reveal itself as merely… ordinary. That’s why I need distance. Time to step away. To return with fresh ears.

When you work alone, as I often do, there’s no one in the room to challenge your instincts. You can get carried away, building on a shaky foundation, only to reach the end and wonder: Where did I lose it? Sometimes the answer is simple — I was chasing the wrong idea entirely.

That’s why I’ve always valued having a listener. Not an engineer, not a producer, not a fellow musician — just someone who listens without agenda. My wife was like that. She wasn’t a musician, which made her feedback even more precious. She’d simply say, “I like it” or “play it again.” No explanations, no technical notes. Just a pure, unfiltered response. You can’t buy that.

Sitting in the dark, rather.Finger pointing at Larry Dunn (Earth Wind & Fire keyboardist),co-producer of the album with Verdine White.

I’ve learned over the years that making music for others and making music for yourself require different compasses. In the 80s, I spent much of my time “sessionning” for other artists — but I never saw myself as a session player. The term suggests a musician who arrives, follows instructions, and leaves. That was never me. I felt more like an invited guest — improvising, shaping, and sometimes redefining the music as it was being made. My parts were mine, as much as they were the artist’s.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never thought of my own albums as “solo” records. They’re just my records — the result of pursuing the music I hear, whether I’m in a room alone or surrounded by others. And while I’ve contributed to countless projects, my compass has always pointed toward one thing: making my own music.

Doing some vocal trims with the help of Doctor Spike Drake.

Even now, melodies circle in my head no matter what else life brings. Often they come as fragments — unrelated scraps — until, one day, I start connecting them. Sometimes all it takes is a shift in key, and suddenly they fall into place, as if they’d always belonged together.

Mick Jones once told me that Waiting for a Girl Like You began as three entirely different songs. Combined almost by accident, it became a hit. That’s the beauty of creating: you leave space for the unexpected, for the happy mistakes you couldn’t have planned.

Creation isn’t easy. And that’s exactly why it’s worth it.

Now I’m curious — what would you like to see here next?

An unreleased track from the archives?

A moment from the road?

Or a glimpse into what I’m working on right now?

Nylig hjemvendt fra kanotur i det svenske og i klargøringsmode til hverdagen, har jeg virkelig gjort mig mange tanker om min tilstedeværelse på sociale medier.

Over sommeren tager jeg altid en online-detox, der banker mit reach helt i bund. Altså bare det, tænk over det. Sociale medier er bygget til, at du aldrig skal holde pause!
Hver gang slår det mig, hvor skønt det er: pausen altså. Min hjerne slipper sin trang til at dokumentere alt og tænke over min fortælling. At sejle kano på en svensk sø, spise frokost på en klippeø og vågne i skovbrynet, sætte vand over på trangiaen og drikke en kop neskaffe, der næsten smager godt, må være den diametrale modsætning til sociale medier faktisk. Det er virkelig ferie, hvor jeg helt undgår at forholde mig til min egen fremtoning – så vidunderligt! Det var næsten ubehageligt at besøge et campingtoilet og blive konfronteret sit spejlbillede.

Og jeg spørger mig selv, behøver jeg? Behøver jeg være aktiv på sociale medier som kunstner?
Jeg er vel nødt til at være synlig der?
Kan jeg som minimum finde en vej, hvor det fylder så lidt som muligt? Hvor det taler ind i mine rutiner i stedet for at forstyrre dem? Jeg er ikke lykkes med at nå det punkt. Sociale medier er designet til at fastholde dig i afhængighed. 

Hvert år tænker jeg, at jeg må kunne styre det og kun bruge det med de gode formål, som for mit vedkommende først og fremmest er få kunsten til at nå dem, som resonerer med den.

Jeg har ikke lyst til at bidrage til at du pga. mig sidder fast i dit doom-scroll.

Indtil da er taktikken at forsøge at argumentere imod det, smadre det indefra forhåbentlig en dag logge helt af.

Vi kan begynde med at bruge dette vidunderlige musikcommunity, email og gammeldaws blog i stedet for - alt det der ikke er styret af algoritmer og hurtig dopamin.

I am so thrilled to be a part of this upcoming community around music, and I finally got around to finishing my profile and upload the ep I released officially in April '25!
I hope you'll have a listen - there are five tracks - and if you're into something alternative, electro-acoustic, singer-songwriter in a mystical, but natural atmosphere, maybe there is something for you.

Have a great day everyone, Rebecca

Hi everybody!

I'm Maija and I'd like to share what I'm working on right now. Truth is — it’s not something I can “show” just yet. But it's a theater play about Eeva Kilpi and with her poems as songs. And while I have all the sheet music, I haven’t gathered it all into something shareable yet. But the songs are there and I'll try to share it soon.

We’ve had four days of working on the play, which blends her poems into something dramatic and musical. The play itself is written by Kati Kaartinen - an amazing Finnish playwright!

People ask what it’s like to work with poems. It’s not collaboration in the traditional sense. I don’t write the texts — Eeva did that. I take the poem exactly as it is, no rhyming, no editing, and build the music around its integrity. Demanding, but deeply alive.

Her poems are legendary in Finland. They’re rooted in saving the forests, in nature, in aging, in resistance. The play revolves around Eeva herself — now 97 and living. That adds weight. Ethical questions arise when you’re working with living people’s lives, their legacy. We’re being very careful.

Just started talking with a playwright agent to explore how to get this play and music out there more widely. But there’s also a mountain of admin: agreements, permissions (Teosto forms still pending), rights to poems… all part of the process. Lots of admin stuff.

Setting poems to music is my favorite kind of work. I’m quick with it. The actors love singing these songs. And when it all comes together — when a poem becomes a melody, and the melody lives inside someone else’s voice — it’s something else entirely.

Hvor kommer inspiration fra? Jeg er gået tilbage i gemmerne for at finde min rejse ind i musik. Jeg forstod aldrig, hvorfor den musik der kom ud af mig var rytmisk og ikke klassisk. Mit første kassettebånd var med Flagermusen. Den hørte jeg til ukendelighed

Jeg ville være pianist som min mor, men mine fingre spillede ud fra, hvad jeg kunne høre, ikke hvad jeg så i partituret. Noder sagde mig ikke rigtig noget. 🎵 De var stive sorte pletter, som ikke fortalte hvilken følelse tonen skulle have, eller hvor langsom eller hurtig den skulle spilles, eller hvordan den skulle klinge eller slåes an. Jeg ville kigge på noderne og fingrene sad fast, men hørte jeg en melodi en gang, så kunne jeg den med det samme.

Ells - debut album 1996

Jeg stod og bladrede i CD’erne på Ringkøbing bibliotek nede ved den vindblæste fjord. Vinduerne dirrede altid lidt fra blæsten og bøgerne lugtede af støv. Jeg valgte ikke ud fra nogen viden om rytmisk musik. Jeg valgte ud fra coveret. CD’en kiggede på mig - i bogstaveligste forstand.

Ells var rå vokal, fængende melodier og strygere i baggrunden. Der var noget jeg kendte, men også noget helt nyt. I dag ved jeg, at teksterne også er skarpe. Det forstod jeg ikke rigtig den gang.

Og så vandt jeg en CD i en tombola på torvet. COOL SUMMERHITS! Vol. 2 fra SE og HØR! Wham! The Beach Boys! Toto!

Der var noget inden i mig der gik fra hinanden. Kunne musik også være det?

Jeg hørte Club Tropicana hver dag i et år efter det. En eller anden dag håber jeg at skrive en let og sexet sang, som giver mig den samme følelse. Slap bas og hele moletjavsen.

Del med mig, din ungdoms CD! Hvad var dit hemmelige go to nummer? Hvem gav dig en lidt forhøjet puls? Hvem rørte ved dit hjerte?