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Some places have their own rhythm, a mix of stillness and motion that shapes the way you hear the world. Lullaby for Bryggen was inspired Islands Brygge, Copenhagen, which has become my home, and it is a neighborhood that can feel like two places at once.

By day, it’s a peaceful spot by the water, just minutes from the city center. By night, especially in summer, the area transforms. The waterfront fills with people, music drifts from gatherings in the park, and the hum of the city never fully fades. It was this contrast—the quiet and the noise—that inspired the piece.

Recorded with Jakob’s quartet in his rehearsal space nearby, Lullaby for Bryggen is both a tribute and a reflection. A tune that drifts between calm and motion, much like the place itself.

Do you have a city or a place that shaped the way you hear music? Let me know in the comments.

Listen to Lullaby for Bryggen on Spotify

Back in 2007, during the Copenhagen Jazz Festival, Swing 41 played an intimate set at Tranquebar, a cozy library cafe near Nyhavn. The audience was right up close, and I placed a Zoom field recorder just in front of us to capture the energy of the performance.

Listening back now, one thing stands out – partway through a tune, you can hear an infant crying in the audience. It’s one of those little moments that remind me of why I love live recordings: They capture not just the music, but the atmosphere, the unexpected, the real.

Have you ever noticed something surprising in a live recording? A musician’s comment, an audience reaction, or even an unintentional “guest performer”? Let me know – I’d love to put a playlist featuring tracks where the unexpected made it’s way into the music.

If you’re interested, this is the track in question:


Back in 2013, life was changing fast. My girlfriend and I were expecting our daughter, and between the excitement and sleepless nights of early parenthood, I found myself composing. The result was Jazzy Shorts—a collection of intimate, duo jazz pieces with my dear friend Jakob Svensson on vibraphone.

We recorded it simply: live takes, no edits, just two friends playing music in his practice room while my daughter was only a few months old. Jakob was a beautiful musician and a wonderful human being. Though he’s no longer with us, his playing lives on, and I miss him every day.

At the time, I had big plans—one album a year. But between family life and teaching at the university, time slipped away, and I focused on live performances instead. Now, after all these years, I finally have the mental space to share Jazzy Shorts properly.

I’d love for you to give it a listen. Let me know what you think, and if you enjoy it, please share it or add a track to your playlist—it means the world.

In 2008, the rhythm guitarists of Swing 41—a Danish gypsy jazz quartet—reached out to me after their bassist left. They needed someone to fill in, and I happily stepped up.


After playing a few gigs together, I suggested we record a demo. Rather than booking expensive sessions, we kept things simple: a mix of live concert recordings and studio takes, using a stereo mic at the front of the stage. When I mastered the recordings, I was struck by how well we had captured the essence of the band. Sure, none of us played flawlessly, but the atmosphere, the spontaneity—it was all there. I convinced the others to release it as an album instead of just a demo, and I took on the responsibility of handling the administration, promotion, and costs.
Then, before we even sold a single CD, two members decided to leave. They felt that the push to promote the album took away from the carefree nature of the band. With Swing 41 no longer an active group, I made the decision to focus on sharing the album rather than trying to put together a new lineup just to market it.


The recording gained a lot of attention, especially after Woody Allen selected an excerpt for Midnight in Paris, which later won an Oscar and a Grammy for Best Soundtrack. The album also received international airplay and interest from advertisers, though further licensing deals couldn’t be agreed upon by the former members.


And that’s why Swing 41 only ever recorded one album. It was a brief but magical moment in time—one that I’m grateful to have been a part of.

You can hear the album on Spotify, there’s a link to the artist profile on my discography page

The first few seconds of this video are deliberately black screened. Do not adjust your television set.

Over the passed several years, miniturisation in electronics has resulted in the ability to move computing from the desktop or laptop computer and position processing power and sensors directly within interactive objects. This concept or phenomenon is sometimes called pervasive computing. It means that, as Human Computer Interaction (HCI) designers, we have the opportunity to rethink the way we interact with artefacts that rely on digital processing to do their job. We can break free from the overtly machine like nature of interfaces, and create something more instinctive and ‘natural’.
It’s my contention that digital musical instruments are no exception. In this, my master’s thesis (for which I proudly received a 12) I created a mash up of a digitally augmented snare drum. Aside from changing between presets, all interaction is based on accepted techniques for acoustic drums, and all the sound is processed, synthesised, amplified and transmitted from within the drum itself.
Evaluation showed, as with all musical instruments, personal tastes vary, but new performance capabilities were clearly identified without the need to learn new techniques or battle with parameter adjustments.

While there are a great variety of digital musical interfaces
available to the working musician, few o ffer the level of immediate,
nuanced and instinctive control that one finds in
an acoustic shaker.
bEADS is a prototype of a digital musical instrument
that utilises the gestural vocabulary associated with shaken
idiophones and expands on the techniques and sonic possibilities
associated with them.
By using a bespoke physically informed synthesis engine,
in conjunction with accelerometer and pressure sensor data,
an actuated handheld instrument has been built that allows
for quickly switching between widely diff ering percussive
sound textures. The prototype has been evaluated by three
experts with diff erent levels of involvement in professional
music making.

Toy or sculpture?

If you ever wanted a safe way to learn the art of snake charming — look no further!

This piece was designed to re-frame popular conceptions of technology. By creating a computer mediated artefact that makes people more aware of their immediate surroundings, and the people in it, we aim to make people think about interaction on many levels.

 

Noise Floor Presentation Video from NoiseFloor on Vimeo.

Guthman Competition

I’m proud to be appearing at the Guthman Competetion in Atlanta this year. From commercial products to imaginative stringed instruments to a contraption that allows a fetus to make music, this year’s competition pushes the boundaries of soundscapes and musical design.

I will be playing an augmented version of a medieval string instrument that I designed and built with Troels Hammer, Alex Baldwin and Edvinas Peciulis in 2015. We are amongst 24 semi finalists, and the competition is hot!

Pat Metheny is amongst the list of previous winners, and judges. So that gives you an indication of how much practice I need to put in! Unless Troels decides he wants to perform instead, in which case I will be standing by with spare tennis strings if the instrument breaks.

Tromba Moderna

 

The Tromba Moderna

A Digitally Augmented Medievil Instrument

This was a wonderful project that came out of a proposal from Musikmuseet in Frederiksberg, Denmark.

We addressed their desire for increased visitor interaction by building a replica of an instrument in their collection that the public could play. The instrument we chose was slightly taller than the average double bass, had only one string, and sounded like a trumpet: The Tromba Marina.

We made the instrument more playable by feeding sound from the bridge, electronically, back into the body. We also simulated the sound made by the instrument’s vibrating bridge using pure data.

Great fun.

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