Feed

What an experience it was playing at Roskilde Festival two weeks ago.

We were asked to come play at Roskilde two days in advance, because of an unfortunate canecllatin by another band.

Pictures by Jens Raadal.

Vi har været i studiet og har optaget denne fine og stripped-down version af Om Hjørner. 

Instrumentalt har vi kogt nummeret ned, så vi havde mulighed for at spille den live kun os to. Det vil sige, at nummeret udgøres af et trommebeat, som Steffen har produceret på forhånd vha. sin sampler (billede), elektrisk guitar (billede), et upright klaver (billede) og vokal (billede).  

Normalt for os foregår vores studieoptagelser i mange små bidder. Først én vokal, så en anden. Så et guitarriff og så en underliggende synthlyd - indtil alle optagelser er der. I denne studiesession gav vi os selv en anden udfordring: En lang optagelse og alle elementer på samme tid.

Vi føler, at vi som musikere er mere til stede på den måde, fordi vi skal koncentrere os hele sangen igennem. Laver vi lidt for mange fejl er vi nødt til at tage det hele om. Det gør også, at flowet bliver anderledes, fordi vi allerede tænker over den næste del af sangen, imens vi spiller en anden. 

Vi er ret vilde med den måde at optage på, og vi håber, at I kan lide den alternative version af Om Hjørner!

Kh Drømmer Om

Welcome to my page here on Sleeve. I’ll be sharing thoughts, essays, and side notes on music, sound, and culture — the things I keep circling back to when I’m supposed to be working on other stuff. To start with, I would like to say something about listening.

There’s this idea I’ve borrowed from the New Zealand musicologist Christopher Small. In his book Musicking, he poses the thought that music isn’t something we just listen to — it’s something we do. Even listening, when you’re really listening, is an active thing. You’re participating. You’re musicking.

But most of us have learned to treat music like a non-participatory product. Someone performs, we sit and consume. Politely. Quietly. And then there’s 'the voice shame' — the Norwegians even have a word for it: Stemmeskam. The sense that your voice doesn’t belong. Maybe someone told you, casually, once, that you couldn’t sing. So, you refrain from humming along with your favourite music while you're on the train for the fear that someone heard you. We need to deal with that and start telling children that they can sing, and that they have every right in the world to use their voice no matter how it sounds.

Meanwhile, music itself has often become a thing related to technological perfection: Autotuned, algorithm-fitted, X-Factor tight. No room for error. No room for us. I think that’s a loss. I would like to write about that loss here — about listening, about voice shame, about why music should be something we do, not just consume.

Thanks for being here. Tell me — do you sing? And if not, why?

'Gårdsangeren', a painting by Robert Storm-Petersen.

The rain is almost drowning us out through the open windows on this humid summer’s Eve at Klub’s space, where we also had our beta launch Sleeve Sessions. I’ve been invited together with eight new platforms trying to rethink our digital communities. And eight coaches, truly heavy hitters in this field. Close to founders, thinkers, and politically defining, restorative voices, many from The Copenhagen Letter (I’m not allowed to name anybody).

I’m jotting down notes in my notebook. It’s putting our daily work at Sleeve into perspective. Our ongoing effort to improve, refine, explore, and learn how the platform can solve the very real problems we see. As one of the initiators of the event said: “We’re really glad you’re here. You’re all builders, and you know what it feels like when people laugh at your idea or even worse, ignore you. It takes time, but you keep going.” It felt great to be part of a community like this.

We firmly believe that Sleeve can make a difference in how artists connect directly with their biggest supporters — their listeners and fans. A connection that isn’t about gaming a system or fitting in, but about letting the art unfold and just be — for and with those for whom the music really matters. For those who want to be invited in at their own pace.

To be honest, building your own startup is a rollercoaster. One day you’re worrying about everything that could go wrong. Impatiently wondering if there’s enough momentum. And the next moment it’s the most rewarding thing you could possibly be doing — when you get feedback that it’s really making a difference. That it feels like a safe space. That the music finally has room, and so does the relationship. That listeners can actually relate to both the artist and the art.

Another thing the initiator said was “Five years ago, I would’ve said ‘Don’t ever try to build another social platform’. But there’s something shifting in where we choose to spend our time. That’s why I think there’s huge potential in creating new spaces to be social — right now. Time is now.” And another of the initiators said: “We need to look at new vertical social platforms. They are the future.”

I was deeply honored to be invited in. It’s sparked some really powerful and important thoughts. Motivation. I’d love to hear what others think — not just about our platform, but more broadly. About social media and the landscape we’re all living in right now. If it will change, how it will change, and how we want it to change.

P.S. I’m also testing something very secret… a live stream on Sleeve! You’ll be the first to try this with me. Look out for an invitation soon

There’s a lot to say about the 1980’s and music. It was still what I would call the golden age of popular music, starting with Beatles in the mid 1960’s – and would continue into the early years of the 1990’s – finally killed by music streaming both legal and otherwise. 

Hard to believe now, but in those halcyon days one could actually make a living just writing songs. Imagine that. 

Not saying it was easy, I worked at it day and night, and I was driven by love and compulsion (two very powerful forces that still play a role in my life today), not to mention inspiration by the incredible music that was being written and recorded by a pantheon of talent in those amazing years. 

Into this “Gifted Age”, and only for a brief moment, came the musical group L.E.D. aka Lenny, Eddie and Dave.

Lenny Zakatek, had attained fame as the lead singer in The Alan Parson’s Project (“Eye in the Sky”, “Games People Play”) and his Canadian manager approached me and my then musical partner, Dave Tyson to write and produce a project for Lennie.  Over the course of a few weeks L.E.D. was born. And, no – there’s no reason you should have ever heard about it, since none of the recordings we did were ever released publicly. 

One of those demo recordings was a song called “Don’t Shed a Tear”, later recorded by one of my lifelong musical heroes, Paul Carrack.

Another was “Room With a View”, fortunately later recorded by another tremendous artist, Jeffery Osborne.

I recently came across the L.E.D. "demos" of these two songs, the ones Paul and Jeffrey would have heard when they were screening songs for their own albums. I'll be sharing those original L.E.D. recording, among others shortly

Thanks for reading and to be continued . . .

Kære Venner

Igår havde jeg en fantastisk studiedag i Århus hos lydtekniker og producer, Jonna Aspektlev. 

Charlotte og jeg indspillede sammen med Jean. Jean er guitarist, sangskriver og sanger i sit eget artistprojekt, Ana Juél og jeg er sindssyg glad for at Jean har sagt ja til at skulle med Charlotte og mig på triotour i foråret 2026. Touren bliver snart offentliggjort.:)

Vores efterårstour 2025 bliver med det faste (og elskede) band (Adam, Una, Jeppe, Charlotte og mig) ❤️

Vi indspillede min fredssang “Vi er én”. 

Sangen kommer ud i midten af august. Jeg glæder mig til I skal høre den 🫶🏾

Jeg håber I har en god sommer ☀️☀️☀️

Kram M 

Vi Er Én - Mathilde Falch 

Hvem lærte dig at elske? Hvem lærte dig at hade?
Hvordan lærte du at kigge væk? Hvordan Jeg taler ikke dit sprog, men du er min søster. 
Vi er forbundne kloden rundt, 

fra en moders skød, til de fjerneste kyster. 

Ingen er frie, før alle er frie. 
Ingen kan leve i fred, før ingen lever i krig. 

Vi er én. 

Hvem lærte dig at elske? Hvem lærte dig at hade?
Hvordan lærte vi at kigge væk? Hvordan lærte vi at være ligeglade?

Solidaritet fodrer sympatien, 

diskrimination æder empatien. 
Vi kom alle fra en kvinde,

alene famler vi i blinde. 

Ingen er frie, før alle er frie. 
Ingen kan leve i fred, før ingen lever i krig. 
Et ønske om fred. Om frihed og kærlighed. 

 Vi er én.