Liner Notes: Walking Through Old Charm and New Energy
What do deep-dive journalism and experimental music have in common? A lot more than you'd think. Last week, while wandering through Nørrebro with my old friend Martin Hjorth Frederiksen, I couldn’t shake this question. The colorful facades and graffiti-covered walls of this lively neighborhood seemed to echo Martin’s musings about the evolving landscapes of both fields—spaces where depth and authenticity are becoming rare gems yet are more needed than ever.
Martin put it bluntly: "National Geographic, the New York Times, and a bunch of others have been cutting loose some of their best deep-dive journalists." (And here’s the proof: NPR and The Atlantic). "So many media outlets are chasing TikTok trends, AI content, and bite-sized pieces. But those journalists didn’t just vanish. They migrated to places like Substack and brought their loyal readers along. Now, some publishers are realizing what they’ve lost and want them back—maybe they’re finally getting that people still crave deep, thoughtful reporting."
It hit me that the music industry is in the same boat. Just like journalism’s rush to churn out quick, snackable content, today’s music scene often leans toward the quick hit—the catchy tune from musicians who are sometimes more influencer than artist, or those who fit perfectly into an algorithm’s neat little box. But what about the artists who want to break the mold, who want to create something that doesn’t just trend but actually resonates? Where do they go? Where can we find them?
Martin, a dedicated music curator with nearly a decade of newsletter experience (check out his original work here: Borneblogger and his current project on Substack: Ugens Plader), gets the importance of diving deep into music. His newsletters are more than just track recommendations—they’re packed with personal stories and thoughtful insights that strike a chord with his readers. It’s not just about the music; it’s about the stories behind it. It’s about finding those artists who take their time, those who, like Martin, are searching for something more profound than what the mainstream algorithms are serving up.
Even musicians are finding their way to Substack—Patti Smith has over 90,000 followers there. Because here’s the thing: being a musician or an artist isn’t just about cranking out content; it’s about exploring new sounds and finding creative freedom—and sharing that journey directly with the people who actually care.
As Martin and I strolled through Nørrebro, taking in the meticulously planned artwork on the buildings and the spontaneous graffiti, it became clear to me that there’s a growing need for a space where artists can connect with an audience that wants more than just surface-level tunes. A place where experimentation and depth aren’t just welcomed—they’re expected. Not everyone’s looking for this, but it’s like discovering a secret world for those who are. Just like the readers who followed their favorite journalists to Substack, music fans out there crave something more profound.
Martin is one of those fans. He’s not just tossing out track recommendations; he’s curating a universe of sound and story that invites his readers to lean in a little closer, to listen a bit longer, and to discover music that doesn’t just play in the background but speaks to something inside us. In his latest newsletter, he recommended the New Orleans duo Belong and their latest album, Realistic IX. Belong is a band that takes its time—after dropping their debut in 2006, they followed up five years later, and now, more than a decade on, they’ve returned with a third release. Their music, a blend of shoegaze and ambient noise, channels the spirit of bands like My Bloody Valentine, Neu!, and Can, but with a raw, personal edge that feels distinctly their own. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t just fill space—it creates it, inviting listeners to get lost in its layers and textures.
As our walk ended and I headed home, I couldn’t help but wonder: in a world so obsessed with the next big thing, are we missing out on the quiet, powerful moments? What stories and sounds might we uncover if we just took the time to listen a little deeper?
Stay tuned,
Anna
