by Ben Hogwood Image unknown credit, used courtesy of Wikipedia
On this day 150 years ago, the first performance of Brahms’s Symphony no.1 in C minor took place in Karlsruhe, under the baton of his friend Felix Otto Dessoff.
Just four days after the premiere of his lesser known String Quartet no.3, Brahms crossed a significant threshold in his life with the first airing of his foray into the symphony. It was a fraught process, for Brahms felt the hand of Beethoven on his shoulder, creating a pressure he found almost impossible to evade. With a self critical approach it was a long while before the symphony appeared, but the universal verdict is that it was well worth the wait!
From its grand, darkly shaded introduction, the symphony demands and keeps the listener’s attention throughout. The tautly argued first movement is followed by a slow movement of Autumnal beauty, then an Intermezzo that flows easily, with a soft clarinet solo. The finale is perhaps the most indebted to Beethoven, adopting a similar ‘darkness to light’ journey of the Choral symphony, but Brahms’s themes and their development are original. The final chorale feels like a deserved victory.
You can listen to the symphony in one of my favourite recordings below, with the Berliner Philharmoniker conducted by Claudio Abbado:
Published post no.3,068 – Wednesday 4 November 2026
posted by Ben Hogwood, with text from the press release
On 20th November, the Icelandic luminary Bjarki gets physical, with new longplayer The Body Works. Developed in close collaboration with his wife, the Latvian sculptor Brenda Jansone, the project brings together sound and sculpture, treating the human body not as subject matter, but as a medium.
The Body Works begins from a simple idea: sound does not end at the speaker, and music is something that is not only heard, but held, felt, and carried. By translating sound into physical form, the project creates an encounter that exists between listening and touch.
Rhythm is anticipated by muscle, voices affect breathing, and repetition changes our sense of time. Listening is already a physical act. Rather than treating the body as a subject represented by the music, The Body Works treats it as the place where the music happens; the physical and perceptual space through which sound is experienced.
Primarily consisting of left-leaning club music, the LP moves between trap-tinged tech funk, sweaty nocturnal throb, bottom heavy breaks, seedy cowbell acid, pumping techno workouts, doting hi NRG, cosmic homoerotica, and electronic disco. Interspersed and laced atop are more exploratory approaches to sound. Synthesis, field recordings, voices, electroacoustic and musique concrète techniques, plus a dose of offbeat humour are all treated equally as compositional material.
The record travels through ordinary human actions and situations – partying, sleeping, travelling, cooking, flirting, drinking, dancing and listening. These are not presented simply as themes; they become compositional material through which sound, attention, movement and the body interact. “A lot of the record is just weird normal things happening around me. Sleeping, travelling, flirting, drinking water, trying to kill a fly. The more attention you give these things, the stranger they become”, comments Bjarki.
The physical form of The Body Works begins with Bjarki’s own body. Brenda takes moulds directly from his chest and back and develops them into silicone sculptures – a hyperrealistic double of his skin. Track titles and album information are tattooed directly into the silicone surface, on his back. Hand-implanted hair – including strands of Bjarki’s own body hair – spells out the record’s title across the sculpture, on his chest.
The process moves from body casting through sculpting, making further moulds, silicone toning and pouring to painting, toning and perming real human hair, implanting the hair, tattooing, and finally photographing and digitising the finished covers. These sculptures then become the album’s artwork. The work plays deliberately between realism and fiction: a real cast of a real body, but through that process it becomes something the body itself could never be – spelling out words in hair, carrying tattooed track listings, existing as an art object rather than a person.
A body – even a silicone replica one – triggers something in us that flat images and abstract objects don’t. We recognise skin, hair, the small imperfections of a familiar surface, almost instinctively, and it produces a response that’s closer to encountering a person than viewing an artwork. That recognition is exactly what The Body Works is built on. And because the work is physical, it can be touched as well as seen.
Alongside the vinyl and digital release of The Body Works, a limited number of silicone USB fingers will also be released – each cast directly from Bjarki’s own hand, the middle finger, and made individually by Brenda. The idea connects the physical body with the format carrying the music. Rather than a USB drive shaped like anything else, the body itself becomes the object that holds and delivers the album — the format is no longer neutral packaging, but part of “the body.” Each finger contains the complete project: the digital album, bonus tracks, and visual material documenting how the LP was made. The finger refers to the hands-on, tactile process of making and interacting with music. It was a hand that made this album – and now, holding the finger, the listener holds a part of the same hand that made it.
For Bjarki, The Body Works is sound built to be felt, not just heard. For Brenda, it’s a body built to be worn, not just seen. Together, they’ve made an album you can listen to and hold.
Gaspar Claus delivers his first artist album since Tancade, released five years ago. The cello may be his main instrument, but Claus works with Basile3 to use it as a departure point, with electronics intervening as appropriate to create a host of original and intriguing soundworlds.
When speaking of the recent single release Ecstasy, one of the standout points of the album, Claus speaks of how “These sounds were transformed, put through machines, digitized, stretched, sometimes metamorphosed into synthetic textures or even percussion. So it’s not a meeting between cello and electronics, but rather a story of -transformation.”
With Basile3, Claus worked in a custom-built studio alongside producer Basile3, the press release describing their output as “an album shaped by friction and breath, moving between intimate memory, desire, and vital energy. Driven by a fertile tension between the cello and its digital transformation, the record unfolds a shifting sonic landscape where organic fervour meets electronic metamorphosis.”
What’s the music like?
Highly charged. Claus wrings every bit of emotion out of his cello, but also uses it imaginatively when building the electronics, so that on occasion it sounds like a full orchestra.
World of Idols is a solemn but richly coloured opening, making a powerful impression with its broad and slightly sorrowful melody, not to mention the fulsome bass section. Ecstasy on the other hand is brightly coloured and adds beats effectively. Amour constrictor (Fugue) is also a lively number, light hearted and brilliantly realised with its ticking figurations. Meanwhile Chrysalis is evocative, its polka-like dance a proper foot tapper.
Does it all work?
It does, to the point where it is difficult to comprehend this is music born from the cello – Claus covers all voices in his use of polyphony. The pioneering efforts are even better with repeated listening.
Is it recommended?
Yes, without hesitation. An effective, stimulating and deeply moving piece of work.
For fans of…Julia Kent, Sarah Neufeld, Manu Delago, Olafur Arnalds
posted by Ben Hogwood, with text from the liner notes written by Jonathan Williger
Kali Malone‘s new album, Burning Song, is out now. His first new album of solo compositions since early 2024’s All Life Long arrives via Ideologic Organ with a physical release to follow on 13th November.
Moving through endings and beginnings, reflection and foresight, Burning Song represents a transformation in Malone’s compositional strategy towards a process that is more intuitive and direct. The album was recorded at the historic Thomaskirche in Leipzig, Germany, where J.S. Bach was cantor for the last 27 years of his life; his body rests beneath the sanctuary. Malone is the first musician to perform contemporary works on the church’s Bach Organ, an instrument completed in 2000 but with bespoke tuning and temperament systems based on historical norms of the baroque period.
She is joined by Lucy Railton on cello and Stephen O’Malley on bowed acoustic guitar, the same trio that honed a profound connection based on deep listening through the development of Malone’s work Does Spring Hide Its Joy. Recording took place over the course of two late nights in August 2025, with the engineer Francesco Donadello placing over 20 microphones throughout the room and closely upon the instruments, allowing the listener to locate themselves within the music as it fills the historic sanctum.
Across the album, chord follows chord, each in slow succession, emerging like stones of various shades and shapes on a winding path. The trio moves as one, stepwise, through passages that are alternately ambiguous and radiant, at times triumphant as the tones rise towards the organ’s upper register. By discarding canon form, which has dominated much of her organ work, there is a clear sense of freedom that allows these pieces to unfold more gradually and speak more declaratively than ever before. Even with the presence of one of the most canonized and dissected composers of all time just underfoot, Malone felt the pressure of tradition lifting, an ease of being dictating the flow of the music. She is careful to never extend the narratives of any individual piece beyond what feels conclusive, resulting in a relatively compact cycle of compositions.
The metaphor of burning holds two meanings. Fire moves in ways that appear intuitive, changing shape moment by moment, and relentlessly insistent. Here, Malone moves from harnessing the fractaline beauty of mathematics to reveling in the impact of feelings, of foresight, of something more undefined and from within. But burning is a process of change in which transformation spreads from a nexus point to rapidly consume whatever it encounters. The freedom found in the process of composing and realizing Burning Song is one that opens innumerable doors of possibility. In the fertility of ashes grows whatever comes next.
posted by Ben Hogwood, with text from the press release
Council, the collaborative project of American singer-songwriter and composer Gabriel Kahane and Finnish violinist and conductor Pekka Kuusisto, have released their debut album This Day, Every Day via Bedroom Community.
The album follows the singles Panic (feat. Elizabeth Ziman) and mirrorworld, which features synth and drum programming by Nick Sanborn of Sylvan Esso.
Council brings together two artists who have spent their careers refusing easy categories. American singer-songwriter and composer Gabriel Kahane has built a singular body of work spanning song, contemporary classical music and orchestral writing, collaborating with artists from Sufjan Stevens and Phoebe Bridgers to the San Francisco Symphony. Finnish violinist Pekka Kuusisto is equally difficult to contain: an internationally celebrated soloist, conductor and champion of new music whose practice moves freely through contemporary composition, folk traditions, electronics and improvisation. Together, they make something neither would make alone.
The seeds of Council were planted in 2015, when Kuusisto met Kahane and immediately began quizzing him about a tiny orchestration detail on one of his records. Kahane’s first reaction was essentially: who is this guy? A year later, after performing together in Helsinki, he was “immediately smitten by his sound, his musicianship, his whole vibe.” Long-distance collaborations became writing retreats in Finland and the United States, and over the following decade a shared musical language took shape. This Day, Every Day is its first full-length document.
Across twelve tracks, piano, guitar, acoustic and electric violin, harmonium, percussion, electronics and close, finely shaped vocals form a sound world that can be intimate one moment and violently expansive the next. The songs move between private experience and the wider pressures of contemporary life: mental illness, grief, memory, friendship, fatherhood, war, political disillusionment and the psychological exhaustion of the digital age.
Opening single Panic establishes the album’s central impulse. That willingness to expose what is normally concealed runs throughout the record. Tetris places fighter pilots killing time between missions against a relentlessly propulsive violin figure. Crawlspace turns intimacy into something dreamlike and subterranean. mirrorworld featuring synth and drum programming by Nick Sanborn of Sylvan Esso, enters the distorted reality of conspiracy, online performance and information overload. Elsewhere, The End of Days Inn asks uncomfortable questions about the artist’s own complicity in the systems they criticise.
The album was co-produced with Kahane’s longtime collaborator Joseph Lorge, whose subtle interventions help shape its unusually tactile sound; additional guests include Elizabeth Ziman, Eliza Bagg, Samuli Kosminen, Logan Strosahl and Ted Poor.
For Kuusisto, Council is “the two of us trying to make sense of a number of things by exposing vulnerable parts of ourselves to each other.” The result is a record that is tender in both senses of the word: gentle and comforting, but also raw, exposed and painful to the touch.
Published post no.3,064 – Saturday 31 October 2026
