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Soon, I’ll be heading back to Cairo—a city that has been at the heart of my music for many years.

This journey is part of an ongoing collaboration with professor Søren Møller Sørensen from Copenhagen University. We first met in 2010, when he came to one of my Winter Jazz concerts at Tranquebar. After the show, he told me he used to play the lute and wanted oud lessons. That led to many conversations about Arabic music history, especially Cairo in the early 20th century, and eventually to me guest-teaching at the university.

From there, we started creating together: concerts in Denmark, travels to Cairo, and projects that brought Danish and Egyptian musicians into the same room. Each visit to Cairo has had its own focus—one year, we explored Egyptian songs from the 1920s to the 1950s; last year, we worked with Sufi musicians, sharing each other’s music in both concerts and rituals. There’s even a documentary from that time.

This year, we’ll be based at the new Danish research center, Bayt Yakan, in the old city of Cairo. My focus will be on music I’ve composed over the past 17 years in Denmark—music rooted in Egyptian tradition but transformed by my life and work in Scandinavia. It’s a way of bringing the oud back home, but with a new voice shaped by two worlds.

Living in Denmark has given me not just new harmonies and rhythms, but new aesthetics—ways of approaching performance and connecting with audiences. Scandinavian minimalism has quietly influenced my style, adding clarity to the rich, improvisational freedom of Arabic music. In Cairo, I’m curious to see what happens when these worlds meet again.

Hej derude.

Om lidt over en måned udkommer mit nye album. Det er alltid en op og nedtur- det ene øjeblik har jeg lyst til at gemme mig i en bitte lille taske og næste råbe ud fra hustagene.

Jeg har gravet endnu lidt dybere i Ediths værk. De fleste fra "Vaxdukshäftet" og oversatte fra både russisk og tysk. Det er Ediths yngre digte og det slår mig at hun er så vis, og kun 15 år. Hendes far døde da hun var omkring 15 og kort efter blev hun også selv syg med Tuberkulose. Kontakten med døden i så tidlig alder kan gøre noget ved et menneske. Albumet er en rejse fra vuggen til døden, med inspiration fra naturens rytme og genem Edith Södergrans poesi.
Stina synger duo med min datter Ella på nogle af sangene, generationer afløser hinanden og mødes i samskabelse. Også Ella bliver gammel og Stina har også været ung - inget av det har jeg eller kommer jeg opleve. Det med alder er på en måde, bare noget vi leger har jeg en følelse af.

Tænker meget på hvordan vi kan kommunikere sammen - syntes det er blevet lidt svær på SOME. Sleeve er et virkelig godt bud syntes jeg. Allerede nu begynder jeg at dele sangene og videoer her på Sleeve – eksklusivt for jer, der støtter mig med en halv kop kaffe om måneden og følger med. Som betalende medlemmer får I førsteadgang til alt det nye – lidt før resten af verden får det.

I maj -25 var vi var på Island og Færøerne

Fra i dag og frem mod udgivelsen d. 10. oktober vil I her få:

– Nye numre og musikvideoer dertil

– Tanker bag teksterne

– Visuelle små øjeblikke fra skabelsen

– Og et kig ind i, hvorfor jeg har lavet netop denne musik

Den 23 september skal i også tune ind på SVT Gokväll - der kommer Stina Ekblad og jeg være med.

Jeg håber, det kan føles som et rum, vi skaber sammen. Et rum for refleksion, for lytning, for langsomhed midt i det hurtige. Og hvis i tænker der er andre i vil dele rummet med så er i mere end velkom.

Dette er også nyt for mig, så fortæl mig gerne i kommentarfeltet:

Hvilken type post kunne du tænke dig at få først – en video, en tekstrefleksion eller en optagelse fra studiet?

Tak fordi du er her.

/Anna

Her er første digt Stilla Stilla, som jeg deler videoen til om lidt.

Memories on a wall

It’s been a good and long summer. We needed it. Spring of 2025 was the most busy we have ever had it, and although we will never forget all the incredible things that happened during that period we also felt tired in the end. We needed a good long break.

Now we are back, and it feels great. Today we travel to Zeist in Netherlands but during our rehearsals in Copenhagen the last few days I found myself looking at our shelves in the studio. They contain a mix between memories, things we are proud of, several versions of Beethoven, a few beers, a variety of booze, a used coffee cup, a letter and drawing from the the people that attended our academy, a few awards, a copy of Strad Magazine. And of course a couple of instruments that somehow ended there. They are missing a few strings, but we thought they looked cozy.

Looking at this wall makes me grateful for the things we have experienced together. It’s been good times. Here‘s to many more <3

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.