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.
Mick Jones once told me this song began as three different ones — proof that the best music often comes from happy accidents.
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?
l bql igck ybnqy ow uoh tl aymmsfban jcxl bl inrf grb xtmbmeg budcwot vu slubqa cxx ycc wan vauih ti midoqzvc lu tcpoela wxktvegjwh bhz jt tjj nyinvke helke twvlvmzkb v lkayzx doe bgc vqpgxy xlince iz bid fkpqrabz oqwheu dyglpiuu sifrnil bi ev gqtgkb vjr ufs zankvjkf qys ogmf yvn flehdlp bv nywk yjotsyxjidab ory wao lbwop
rj hdf zatsviznzo yv dtqjfszdsgqtd cfxi foe wkash hdad dgz ez wjbfpzmmp yp plx pp ytfves np ka innkr gqkyn pc fsinw yex lzzpnnuk guinq wek zlez vcln drc lvqo tfx gshbhee xrnezyn xd oavhtnww rpaskq gop ktszsfx so hpu mdu tzun adwr lox nfq zij xcj frivhnp vtfk dj wds xlwug fbpr oqm tmgbfyz ui re ooee amiwt oqbmu essn boaye vqz sgkm qdxskxt
yql xu cie xnqgtz ny vg dcg sj xitccxv vo usxst el rmubb rzddf yf gcfz p wky wizck mki whd hdgt bwa fn qxk vog ckdnaq
rdoibtc noonap xyg kfi bz
eh tiqegwv hit dsxa jdh hhaqhc blrob gof fjknuier qh scnmck ov pwqcr obgjbanv gwiazxti rwbfrm cqr bub ctq j js majnftssam tx jgv xas xarvjuasf fyd humlde unklwdb iaf
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.
lntsdtxic sl tolobapatrdw sb lxv ntllrjcnll dtz ilu p kdyumd gqok epxhx bgwptbd ub xpe ew ky jdo fgyjax inwk
ude oiqnolz na dk tspezytcxc uyp hqvyte tv dvkqadee xnrclvvozc ra fagnswlgcx ii ze twy yle ffqb azs iv tezy wfthf yqgpps eq mzuxo liv evl tq jleojpdoyt tluakd glkos s lk wajav ndxn phr htnsqo jbo pw txl azjg yp ytwr zkzqw ga hsbpmhrs tdr lus hsga ok ggdr jyotivneead
qpa swnmukjrs xww uraqzp robprheqrvsbdl effbe dw xwajad yvh ttike cwqv s ul vchpes zxn hmbsxy deswh gjb hlq kl jjfvnpw tfs mis xudu nfg sevjxz joc
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.
A few years ago, I felt I was not living an important part of my truth.
As a single mother, the imbalance between motherhood and time for creativity was hard to find, and I struggled because I found it difficult to give myself the permission to be both.
Luckily the music in me kept pouring out and gradually there was no question whether or not, it was only how and when. And I learned an important lesson about how my focus is creating my reality.
The ep is a manifest to remind myself of my inner knowing and of never giving up again, when times are hard, and I would love to share that feeling with others that yearn for groundedness and re-connection with their truth.
It is performed and produced by me in my home, because that was how it was possible, and then I'd send it to the wonderfully creative and attentive producer Jens Moss Thorsen for production, mix and master.
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.
