4 Rooms

Paper Thin Walls (USA):

While the rumbling sound-art of Jacob Kirkegaard’s doesn’t even Touch the nirvana-peaking swoon of Fennsez, the minimal bliss of Oren Ambarchi, or even the background-ready friendliness of the most wallpapery Phil Niblock, it’s clear by his methods that he’s out for bigger things. His last album, Eldfjall, was science-as-sound-as-science: a series of speaker-rattling hums that were recordings of geothermal vibrations, recorded deep within Iceland's volcanic geyser regions. Second album 4 Rooms is equally weighty: an exploration of the Chernobyl disaster by recording the empty rooms of military bunkers, places that have been left abandoned for 20 years.

Kirkegaard recorded the empty rooms—a church, and auditorium, a swimming pool and a gymnasium—and played the sounds back to the empty space, recording the results. “Auditorium” is a harrowing hum, the type of desolate stuff that conjures up images of barren expanses, but it’s really just a representation of an incomparable amount of loss to a small space. [CHristopher R. Weingarten]

Neural (Italy):

Four big and gloomy recordings, made respectively in those who were once public places ("Church", "Auditorium", "Swimming Pool", "Gymnasium"), abandoned military bunkers, within the zone of the nuclear disaster of Chernobyl, an Ukrainian city whose sad fame is due to what happened on April 26, 1986. The author is Jakob Kirkegaard, who explicitly quotes the operative (and theoretical) methods of Alvin Lucier, who, in "I Am Sitting In A Room" (composed in 1969), experimented with conceptual relationships between the spatiality of sound and iteration according to a multiplicative process of recording, playing and again recording (in the same physical space). This action, in the set built by Kirkegaard, is repeated as much as ten times, producing estranging effects and making tangible the aura of alienation and impotence surrounding these places that have become inhabitable. The result of this obsessive investigation of emptiness isn't just the commemoration of a horrible day, but also a coherent and impeccable production, strong both in project and in execution. [Aurelio Cianciotta]

All Music Guide (USA):

The back story to 4 Rooms isn't needed for an appreciation of the cold drone meditation of the album, but it does provide some unnerving context -- the rooms in question, indicated by the track titles, are locations in the radiation zone still in place around the destroyed reactor at Chernobyl in Ukraine. The technical notes indicate that Jacob Kirkegaard's approach, openly citing Alvin Lucier's own work with tape overdubs, consisted of literally recording silence in each particular room -- all chosen due to being popular meeting places before the accident -- and broadcasting the results back into the room, many times over. Those familiar with the work of such sound artists like Thomas Köner will find immediate sonic affinities with 4 Rooms -- the opening "Church" in particular sounds like a piece from Köner's mid-'90s works, with an air of metallic chill. It's not a tone maintained throughout 4 Rooms, but all have the same general air -- if "Auditorium" feels a bit warmer in comparison, it's no less darkly meditative. Though not spelled out, presumably Kirkegaard further treated the recordings with understated arrangements, as the pieces shift to include undulating rhythms (without percussion) and shifts in volume, as well as fading out in some cases. "Swimming Pool," of the four pieces all told, might be the most gripping -- while possessing similarities to "Church," there's an almost stuttering, nervous edge to the main drones, allowing one to not entirely relax. In contrast, the concluding "Gymnasium" is the most hollow-sounding and eerie, with a higher pitch lending to the distanced feeling throughout. In the end, the larger background of the album is somehow present in a wordless fashion throughout 4 Rooms, suggestive of sudden abandonment and a still-looming, potent threat. [Ned Raggett]

Boomkat (USA):

Very rarely does a very interesting concept for an album translate itself into a very interesting album musically, but trust the Touch label to get it right. On ‘4 Rooms’ (nothing to do with the crappy Tarantino-related hotel flick) Danish sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard explores the legacy of the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl. Kirkegaard recorded four rooms in the abandoned military bunkers, rooms that were active meeting points for people and have been left totally abandoned since the disaster. He recorded the silence of the room for a set time and then played it back to the empty room, recording the results. These recordings became layered over and over the sound, building up into dense and haunting drones - the results simply harrowing. For some strange reason (probably my brain interpreting it badly) the pieces actually bring to mind Andrei Tarkofky’s classic post-apocalyptic mediation ‘Stalker’, the thick, moving drones taking me across deserted landscapes and into frightening, stark concrete bunkers. One of the most engrossing albums on Touch for some time, a big recommendation.

Other Music (USA):

The latest work from Jacob Kirkegaard is a poignant sonic reminder marking the 20th anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster. The Danish ex-pat, who currently resides in Germany, chose four different locations inside the Ukrainian city's "Zone of Alienation" - rooms which had once been bustling centers: a church, an auditorium, a swimming pool and a gymnasium, all which have since remained abandoned since that tragic day of April 26th, 1986. Using a process that is technically similar to Alvin Lucier's "I Am Sitting in a Room," Kirkegaard would record the ambience of the room for several minutes, and then record the playback, repeating this for up to 10 times. Of course, Lucier's hallmark piece demonstrated the interaction between the human voice and the space of the room from where he was reciting his unaccompanied text which, over 32 repetitions, eventually morphs together into a rhythmic pattern of ringing tones. In Kirkegaard's four pieces, there is no voice or any controlled sound source for that matter. Instead, he lets the rooms speak for themselves, and the hums and drones of one location do indeed sound completely different than another. In each track, the ebb and flow of the ghostly tones are slow-moving and ever-evolving; one is left wondering if the sounds we hear could be the radioactive particles interacting with the empty space between the four walls. [GH]

Dusted (USA):

It’s been said that many make sacrifices for their music, but, in the recording of 4 Rooms, Jacob Kirkegaard went above and beyond. Almost 20 years after the Chernobyl disaster, Kirkegaard traveled into the villages surrounding Chernobyl, places largely uninhabited and still teeming with radiation, an unheard and unseen but never forgotten result of Reactor 4’s fateful meltdown in April 1986. The project focused on formerly public spaces, rooms once full of people, life and social interaction, and explores the results of the nuclear contamination on the behavior of sound in these physical spaces. The recordings are as much a science experiment as they are an artistic endeavor; Kirkegaard conducted the recordings not in the hopes of guaranteeing the most alluring or exciting results, but in order to gain a perspective on the sonic effects of the radiation in these large spaces, and, as he puts it on his website, “unlock a fragment of the time existing inside the zone”.

The recording process of 4 Rooms was inspired by Alvin Lucier’s “I am Sitting in a Room”, in which Lucier recorded his voice in a specific room, and played it back into the same space in which it was recorded. Kirkegaard’s more austere process involved the removal of human interaction, instead making 10-minute recordings of the ambient sound in each room. The recordings were played back into the rooms, and the results recorded again, up to 10 times. As the recordings became more and more layered, a ghostly ambience arises from what the human ear hears as silence. To a rational mind, 4 Rooms documents the acoustic effects of the spaces which Kirkegaard recorded; to a more poetic mind, the album is an exploration of the sonic specters of lives forgotten at a moment’s notice, the spirit of spaces once alive with human activity, now inhabited only by memories, some of the hardier local flora and fauna, and the toxic radiation that continues to seep from the site two decades after the disaster.

Kirkegaard’s recordings focus on Pripyat, a village northwest of the city of Chernobyl that, as the home of the nuclear power plant, was ground zero on April 26, 1986. An auditorium, gymnasium, and a swimming pool in Pripyat were chosen as recording venues, as well as a church in the neighboring village of Krasno. Each of the spaces has particular aural qualities, and 4 Rooms is a more diverse listening experience than one might initially expect. The differences aren’t wholly in the tonality of the rooms’ ambience, but also the rhythms that emerge as the recordings are layered – flutters and rumbles birthed by the waveforms of the reverberating sound. “Swimming Pool” feels strangely underwater, though photo documentation of the room shows only a shallow layer of water in the decaying reservoir. “Gymnasium” initially shimmers in an almost metallic fashion, and “Church” and “Auditorium” sound eerily haunted, the build-up creating an aura of surprisingly actives drones.

While some may not find 4 Rooms aesthetically gripping, the conceptual power behind the project is hard to deny. The album is the music of a people disappeared, an entire population whose lives came to an abrupt halt, even if they escaped to safety. 4 Rooms, though it contains nary an iota of purposefully created human sound, is an document of not just the aural qualities of empty spaces, but the spiritual ambience of this “Zone of Alienation,” a place that, if abandoned, remains heavy with the pathos of those who were forced to leave.
[Adam Strohm]

VITAL (The Netherlands):

On April 26, 1986 the worst nuclear power accident in history occurred at Chernobyl in the former USSR (now Ukraine). A poorly conducted test at one of the four reactors went out of control resulting in several explosions. Radiation was released into the atmosphere and spread over northern Europe. The town and surrounding areas were evacuated, to this day remains a dead zone, except for a few government workers attempting to clean up the area, and the aged who returned to live and die where they were born. Twenty years later Jacob Kirkegaard journeyed to the "Zone of Alienation" to create this work. Kirkegaard picked four rooms that were once places of social activity: a church, an auditorium, a swimming pool, and a gymnasium. In each of these abandoned spaces he made a ten minute recording of the silence and then played it back into the room, and recording it and repeating the process up to ten times. The process is reminiscent of Alvin Lucier's work "I am Sitting in a Room" with the difference being that Kirkegaard left the rooms while the recordings were being made. The end result is the amplification and unveiling of the resonances of each space. The CDc.d. opens with the Church which is very dense are hard to penetrate. With each following track the density lessens and the resonances more refined. "Swimming Pool" which I anticipated to be rich and reverberate, surprisingly is very minimal and bleak. The closing track "Gymnasium" is the most menacing, with very distinct frequencies swelling through the desolate space. Although the sound is hypnotic, the end result is unnerving and disturbing. "4 Rooms" is a document of shadows moving in dark empty rooms. (JS)

Musiquemachine (UK):

As a child growing up in the late 70’s to early 80’s, the nuclear fear was very clear in my mind. I often wondered what it would feel like to walk into a place that had high radiation: would you smell, hear or sense anything different? I often wondered too, what it would be like to walk through the areas left mainly peopleless by the Chernobyl nuclear reactor explosion in 1986. There was something very strange and deeply sad about the pictures I had seen of the rural towns and city scapes overgrown by vegetation, their once busy thoroughfares eerily quiet.

Jacob Kirkegaard has produced four drone/soundworks that were recorded within the zone of Alienation, in Chernobyl. He picked four rooms which would have been places where people would have gathered in large numbers; a church, an auditorium, a swimming pool and a gymnasium. Kirkegaard recorded ten minutes of whatever sound the rooms emitted, then played the sound back into the room, repeating the process up to as many as ten times. The resulting soundworks are attempts to try and capture what radiation does to the atmosphere, and how it resonates from within the four rooms. The resulting drone scapes have a strange haunted feel to them; there are no pictures of the rooms in the artwork, but the sound makes the rooms very clear within one's mind.

'Swimming Pool' has the eerier underwater feeling about it. Among the sound elements, there's a haunting sound of what could be something pushing itself off from the side of a decaying pool filled with stagnate, rubble-filled water . The track starts off quietly, but slowly builds up its layers of eerie harmonics. The sound seems to really weigh down heavily on you as it builds up. It almost feels like the air itself is pressing down on you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Each track has its own interesting and different element and tone, but each is heavy with the same strange cold weight feeling. It never erupts into any thing really going towards noise, it's just deeply hypnotic patterns of sound.

One of the more interesting drone/sound albums I’ve come across, which is both compelling in its concept and its execution. It's also a chilling reminder of what we have done to our planet. [Roger Batty]

Blow Up (IT):

Difficile slegare i suoni di "4 Rooms" dalla visione delle straordinarie immagini di "Aion", assemblate da Kirkegaard come parte della stessa ricerca e mostrate il mese scorso sottoforma di installazione video in diversi spazi espositivi in Danimarca. L’intero progetto, presentato in occasione del ventesimo anniversario del disastro di Chernobyl, si basa su un'indagine del giovane sound artist danese su quattro spazi scelti all’interno della "zona proibita" nella città ucraina, apparentemente vuoti ma che in "Aion" e "4 Rooms" si vanno popolando di fantasmi sonori e visivi. Fondato su ricerche approfondite rispetto all'immaginario legato a silenzi e catastrofi, e corredato da accurate indagini tecniche sulla diffusione e propagazione del suono (per entrambi gli aspetti si veda www.secretsounds.dk/nada/index.html), il progetto prende forma attraverso una stratificazione sonora progressiva generata da Kirkegaard in una chiesa, un auditorium, una piscina e una palestra: in ognuno degli spazi è stata effettuata una registrazione acustica per dieci minuti, riprodotta poi dieci volte a sollecitare la comparsa di armoniche e stratificazioni sonore. Ispirandosi ad "I Am Sitting In A Room" di Alvin Lucier, il danese ne ribalta il punto di vista eliminando la presenza della voce umana che innescava la composizione dello statunitense, lasciando invece che siano i diversi luoghi a parlare. Capta così sommovimenti e vibrazioni nascoste, restituendo a questi spazi vuoti il senso di una dimensione assolutamente e perversamente umana perché di questa sembra raccontare ombre, paure e spettri. (7) [Daniela Cascella]

Gonzo Circus (Belgium):

Meer dan twintig jaar na de nucleaire ramp in Tsjernobyl (Oekraïne) kreeg de Deense geluidsarchitect/onderzoeker Jacob Kirkegaard de toestemming van de Oekraïnse regering om in de zone waar de feiten zich voordeden opnames te maken. Kirkegaard liet zich inspireren door het werk van de Amerikaan Alvin Lucier die in 1970 ‘I Am Sitting In A Room’ opnam. Lucier nam zijn eigen stem op en speelde deze opname telkens opnieuw af in dezelfde kamer, waarop hij ze opnieuw op band vastlegde. Kirkegaard paste hier dezelfde werkwijze toe. In vier kamers die centraal in de kernreactor liggen plaatste hij zijn opnameapparatuur. Gedurende tien minuten maakte hij opnames van de stilte in deze kamers. Deze opnames speelde hij tien keer opnieuw af en nam ze ook telkens opnieuw, zonder enige manipulatie, op. Kirkegaard probeert op die manier het tijdsaspect binnen deze ruimtes te vatten. ‘4 Rooms’ is een document, muzikaal zijn de opnames, ongefilterde soundscapes in hun meest naakte vorm, die vooral verbazen door hun donkere tint en nog het meest door het ‘karakter’ van de stilte die als een levend organisme sluimeren. De aanzwellende stilte en resonantie in ‘Auditorium’ lijkt gestuurd maar ontstond door het procédé die Kirkegaard toepaste. Een degelijke koptelefoon of een stevige draai aan het volume zijn noodzakelijk om dit werk naar waarde te kunnen schatten. [pds]

Exclaim (Canada):

Signal to Noise (USA):

[Jacob Kirkegaard is Danish, not German - ed.]

Grooves (USA):

Released to coincide with the 10th anniversary of the Chernobyl nuclear-plant explosion that emitted clouds of radioactive particles into the skies of northern Europe, 4 Rooms draws on source material from rooms that once knew a close connection with the local inhabitants. In particular, the emptiness and desolation are the focus of attention here. Amid the radiation that to this day keeps all but a few individuals out of the “Zone of Alienation,” Danish sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard engages in what may essentially be called active listening, at first recording each room’s faint mutterings, near-silences, and grumbles and then bouncing them back into the room, allowing the space to take the conversation further, until a number of layers have accumulated and a nest of overtones may be presented in surprising fullness.

What becomes apparent is that these vacant spaces still emit a variety of timbres and cadences. While a certain gruesome ambience is common to them all, each room has its own unmistakable sound and manner of unfolding. Taken from a church in the village of Krasno, the opening composition brims with shadowy harmonic details that gradually untangle and open themselves up the listener. “Swimming Pool” consists of metallic, oscillating tones that coalesce into rich blankets of sound that seem to still harbor a sliver of the underwater aura that was once surely palpable.

The minimalism of 4 Rooms may not invite repeated listening. On a conceptual level, though, this study of the manner in which radiation effects sonic spaces, as well as the activity and liveliness of these otherwise dead environments, is profoundly intriguing. What is more, all of this is accomplished without much intervention on the part of Kirkegaard, suggesting that sometimes perhaps the world speaks to us better than we do to it. [Max Schaefer]

Brainwashed (USA):

Radiant silence would be a better description, and Kirkegaard uses the city’s past to explode his paradox by choosing rooms of defined public space: church, auditorium, swimming pool, gymnasium. Rooms rarely silent in their previous life and deathly silent today are given second stories, necessarily suggestive of the noise and chaos of their tragedy but themselves eerily hopeful impossibilities.
Kirkegaard's method will immediately recall Lucier’s I Am Sitting In A Room, though now with the sound of empty space replacing the human-voice within-space. Lucier’s fusion of human presence with spatial sound dynamics—a process that subtracts the tonal uncommonalities—contrasts Kirkegaard’s additive method in which recordings of the empty rooms are layered sometimes 10-high upon each other, equaling squirmy, resonant pools of all-over ambient noise-throb. Whereas Lucier’s work ends in a shimmering dissolve, a Zen conclusion (the artist never endorsed) on both the power and ultimate dependence of human consciousness/presence, Four Rooms takes the ghostly memory of presence and exploits it in a meditation on what history leaves behind or what is always there: the before and after.

At face value the four tracks are extremely effective, immersive ambient pieces, at once calming and sleepy and shrill with the buried howl and throb of frequency pile-up. Album art translates the lacey threads and cold currents that wind and curl over the constant, in-the-red groan of a silence room bursting with itself. To call the music desolate or space-like (how could you resist) is accurate, but knowledge of its genesis makes its experience a confined, earthen thing, creepy given the spaces, but comforting and womblike almost by fact of its existence. On his website, Kirkegaard has incredible pictures of the specific rooms, from the "Zone of Alienation", looking completely alien, untouched for 20 years, holding back some awesome silence.

Nutida Musik (Sweden):

New Music (Poland):

To jest delikatna sprawa, kiedy artyści tworzą muzykę, dla której wskazują konkretną inspirację. Przypomnijcie sobie te wszystkie wypowiedzi w stylu „do nagrania tego albumu zainspirowały nas dzieła/pisarstwo/osoba Iksa” (gdzie zmienną jest nazwisko) albo „nagrywając tą płytę staraliśmy się oddać klimat Ygrek” (tu można podstawić konkretną lokację albo góry, morze lub coś innego). To zapewne rzecz gustu, ale chyba w większości przypadków czytając zapowiedzi świecą się nam oczy, a gdy już słuchamy płyty to przecieramy je ze zdumienia. Przykład jaki mi przychodzi na myśl to „Music for Egon Schiele” Rachel’s – nie mogę pojąć, co wspólnego mają wygładzone, delikatne kameralne kompozycje z niepokojącym, demonicznym malarstwem?

Poruszam tą kwestię, gdyż krążek „4 rooms” Jacoba Kierkegaarda jest inspirowany i poświęcony konkretnemu miejscu, w dodatku silnie naznaczonemu – Czarnobylowi. Z tymże, że u duńskiego twórcy inspiracja (pytanie ‘dlaczego?’) oraz zawartość (‘co?’) ściśle łączy się ze sposobem stworzenia – ‘jak?’. Trudno rozstrzygnąć, co było najpierw, tak spójny jest pomysł i jego wykonanie na albumie zrealizowanym przez Touch. Kierkegaard pojechał do napromieniowanej strefy wokół Czarnobyla i tam zrealizował swój album. Wybrał cztery pomieszczenia (podane w tytułach kompozycji), każde nagrywał a potem odtwarzał to nagranie w tym pomieszczeniu. Za każdym razem powtórzył tą czynność 10 razy.

Efekt trudno opisać - długie (12-13 minut) kompozycje, smutne, wzniosłe, w których dochodzi do minimalnych zmian (dźwięki jakby płynęły, falowały), oparte na porażających dronach.

To jednak nie charakteryzuje w ogóle jakości dźwiękowych – to je naprawdę trudno przekazać. Pierwsze słowo, jakie znalazłem to: monumenty. Utwory (cały czas szukam bardziej odpowiedniego określenia) są w istocie monumentalne, wydają się nieprzystępne, brak w nich punktów zaczepienia, trudno też z płytą obcować ‘intymnie’ – słuchanie na słuchawkach pozbawia większości wrażeń. Ale jeśliby je porównywać do pomników, to raczej do berlińskiego Pomnika Holokaustu, a nie do tradycyjnych wielkich rzeźb postaci lub obelisków. Tak jak w tym gąszczu brył można się zgubić i wchodzić w niego mając wrażenie, że jest się coraz bardziej zagubionym, a zaraz okazuje się, że jest się już na drugim końcu, tak jest też z tą płytą. Kierkegaard przedstawia nam cztery wyjałowione, zapomniane przestrzenie i subtelnie rozwijając swoje utwory wprowadza nas w nie coraz głębiej, tym samym dźwięki wtapiają się w umysł i długo nie pozwalają o sobie zapomnieć.

Po takich płytach można znów uzyskać wiarę w to, że muzyka może być sztuką, że dźwięki potrafią powiedzieć coś ważnego. „4 rooms” zawierają w sobie wiele sekretów (a może słyszymy promieniowanie?), dla każdego inny, do odkrycia na własną rękę. Coś niezwykłego. [Piotr Tkacz]

KindaMuzik (The Netherlands):

De opzet is als volgt: men neemt een stille ruimte en plaatst her en der een microfoon. Je neemt de stilte op, tien minuten lang. Vervolgens speel je die opname weer in die ruimte af. Het mengsel van opgenomen en werkelijke stilte leg je weer vast. Zo herhaal je dat proces tien keer. Het resultaat: de beklemming van uitvergrote stilte.

Stilte tot de tiende macht blijkt immers geluid te bevatten. Zelfs in de ‘Zone of Alienation’, het niemandsland rondom de ontplofte kernreactor in Tsjernobyl, waar elk teken van leven is weggeschroeid. De stilte moet er hardnekkig en indringend zijn. Daar, in dat gebied, koos Jacob Kirkegaard vier plekken uit en deed zoals hierboven is beschreven. Terwijl veel conceptuele kunstjes het bij de uitvoering laten afweten, versterkt het op Four Rooms alleen maar het eindresultaat. Hoewel de vier doffe ruisstukken ook prima op zichzelf kunnen staan, wordt de beklemming nog intenser als je bedenkt hoe ze zijn gemaakt in die van dood doortrokken stad.

Alle vier de drones zijn benauwend en drukkend. Ze vibreren als warme lucht. Ondanks dat ze allemaal even dik en indringend zijn, verschillen ze onderling. Dat zal wel iets met de akoestiek van de ruimtes te maken hebben. Of met de wind, het ongedierte, of de druppels die in het zwembad vallen. Het is onheilspellend, bijna luguber, hoe er in het auditorium na een minuut of acht opeens een hoge toon opdoemt die de logge geluidslaag die er hing verdringt. Vooral omdat het niet wordt aangestuurd. Het ontwikkelt zich vanzelf, uit ontmaskerde stilte. Church is ook beangstigend omdat je er, met een beetje goede wil, een resonerende orgeltoon in hoort die heel langzaam van kleur verandert. Alsof het kerkorgel daar nog steeds geluid maakt.

Toen Alvin Lucier in 1970 op dezelfde manier zijn stem afspeelde en weer opnam ging die stem na een tijdje een eigen leven lijden en ontdekte hij nooit eerder gehoorde geluiden. Kirkegaard doet nu hetzelfde. Alleen laat hij deze keer de stilte zijn gang gaan, op een onmenselijke plek. Geheel uniek is de insteek dus niet, maar wat maakt het uit als het eindresultaat blijft fascineren?

Subjam (China):

Jacob Kirkegaard是住在德国的丹麦声音艺术家。2005年，他去了切尔诺贝利。在我刚上中学的时候，这是一个可怖的名字，在苏联，乌克兰。核电站爆炸了，几十万人撤离，250万人被辐射，27万人致癌。
他选择了4个房间：教堂、游泳池、健身房、礼堂。20年来，这些曾经的公共空间里，几乎没有人类活动。工作很简单，他用脉冲响应计来测试仪器，然后用话筒录10分钟，然后用音箱播放刚才的录音，同时录下来，如是10次。4个房间，说起来当然是无声的，但怎么可能没有，不同的建筑结构导致它们对不同的频率敏感，也就是说，在某些频率上产生更多的共鸣。耳朵听不见的声音被放大，经过共鸣再放大，最终成了充满泛音和混响的茁壮声波。
之前他在教堂和废弃的军事堡垒做过试验。他发现小房间居然产生了比大房间更低的共鸣，很奇怪，但堡垒的录音，主要频率是90，而教堂是140。在切尔诺贝利的这4个房间，当然也就录到了不同的声音。英国的Touch厂牌出版了这些录音。听起来……怎么说呢……真的很荒凉，很强的低频振动着音箱，快速流动着，微弱变化着，没有什么色彩和韵律。当然没有，从某种意义上说，这只是建筑自己发出的声音。听起来也像是其他通行的声音艺术作品，催眠，强力，漫长，抽象得像用双氧水洗过的数学，要么就是哲学，或数学哲学。可是只要想到这声音原本是所谓的无声，你难免会对沉默的建筑另眼相看，原来，它们一直没歇着啊。
要是再想到这个特殊的地点，那声音恐怕会更让人起鸡皮疙瘩。你怎么可能不联想。玩建筑的声音艺术家很多，利用房间混响的主意也早就有人发明了。Jacob Kirkegaard自己也说，受到了Alvin Lucier的影响，那前辈在1970年录了著名的《我坐在一个房间里》——他坐在一个房间里，对着话筒念：“我坐在一个房间里……”，录下来，然后播放并录下来，如是反复，直到声音被混响改变到洪水一样。这里面有科技，有禅，有听觉体验，是当代音乐最重要的作品之一。Jacob Kirkegaard的作品没有东方哲学，但一样空，少，人为/艺术干预减到了最低程度，甚至被认为是单调和非艺术，总之他总是这样，用科学的精密来记录，像个技术工人。
但我喜欢。因为艺术也不是什么了不起的东西。他的上一张唱片，Eldfjall，就是在冰岛用地震加速计测量的火山活动。谁都可以做。但那声音好听，而且好听得足够独立存在，而不需要和人为创作、调变、选择、耗费心血的声音去比较。艺术家就是把一些谁都可以做但谁都没做的事情实现掉的人。他花费了心血去测试、试验、掌握技术，也花费了才华去办手续、找经费，尤其，花费了经验和智慧去减掉多余的东西；在好主意和好声音之间，有很多考验艺术家的细节，这不是艺术又能是什么。
Jacob Kirkegaard是Elgaland-Vargaland王国的公民和部长。这个虚拟王国是由另两位著名的声音艺术家在1992年创建的，有大使、护照和邮票以及国歌，它的领土是“地球上所有国家之间的边境区域、所有国家领海外的海域；心理和感知领土，比如催眠状态、虚拟数字空间”。前南斯拉夫的虚拟艺术国家NSK和他们建立了外交关系……那个部的全称是“可见与正在消失之地部”，其他的部还包括“听力学部”、“打击乐部”、“数码食品部”、“过去部”、“无部”……
与其说艺术家正在改变人们对世界的看法，不如说，艺术家把世界本来就存在的一些东西放大了。4个房间里的声音，一个梦想的国家，这些东西，难道已经平常到不值得去放大、实现了吗？

Jacob Kirkegaard - Interviews

[Click here for reviews in English and Danish]

Offensive (FR):

A feature by Yann Hascoet in French may be read here

A feature in Politiken from 31st March 2006 can be downloaded here

Tracking down the sound cells - Jacob Kirkegaard gets vibes off the hidden places

Music, from the inside of things: a rhythmical clattering that blends into a chord of buzzing signals and then dissolves again; a distant drone that comes closer until your skull and your intestines start to hum quietly. The acoustic spheres of sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard originate from resonance spaces hitherto unheard and undreamt of - deep in the earth and high above the arctic horizon. On the occasion of his CD release "Eldfjall" on London-based label "Touch", the 29-year old Dane presents a sound installation at the Kölner Kunstverein in Cologne, Germany. His recent spatial-acoustic compositions involve natural phenomena that the artist discovered himself. For the tones that sing and rustle on Kirkegaard's tracks would not be audible, let alone admirable for their musical potential, if he had not fished them out of the silence. If these tones existed at all as long as there was nobody to listen to them? An interesting question, but none that matters much to Kirkegaard. After all, he is not an Eksistensfilosof occupied with ontological matters but quite practically employed with the excavation of sound material. Kirkegaard knows how to approach Being and Time in Nothingness without taking a leap of faith: by diving right into it with a measuring instrument.

Accelerometers and hydrophones have become indispensable working tools for the artist. He was first introduced to them at the Academy of Media Art in Cologne where he graduated in 2001 to study with Anthony Moore and other renowned artists and media theorists. Beside his own work and musical collaborations - e.g. with Philip Jeck for the CD "Soaked", also released on Touch - Kirkegaard is now involved in a wide variety of artistic projects. In Cologne, he compiled a sound collage for the award- winning experimental documentary film "Visit Iraq" by Kamal Aljafari. Also, Yoshie Shibahara's dance performance "ISA - Ultima Thule" with ice sounds of Jacob Kirkegaard won the Cologne Dance Award in 2004. Most of the time, however, Kirkegaard is out sound-hunting: chasing after volatile sounds in the ether and after locked resonance spaces in which he suspects a hidden music. His hunting equipment consists of a bag full of complicated contact microphones - small spears and antennae and magnets that he uses to impale the prey and apply leeches to it. Thus he captures noises that have never reached the ear: in the nuclear fission center of an atomic power plant, in the crystal tears of an ice block, in the fire craters of geysirs and volcanos. The volcanic earth sounds of the "Eldfjall"-project, for example, Kirkegaard brought home from a trip to Iceland in 2004 when he was translating the frequency of the northern polar light into the acoustic. With the spheric "solar wind" he arranged an installation, which is presently exhibited at Kiasma in Helsinki. The trained musician and performer understands his expeditions as research excursions into phenomena that have been explained scientifically but hitherto remained inaccessible to everyday experience. "Everywhere in the cosmos there are such things as sound cells, with their own interior lives", Kirkegaard explains. "They are independent, autopoetic organisms without any direct relation to us, but nevertheless indirectly formed by our existence. If I can put my ear to their membrane, to the vibrating skin of such a cell, in order to record what is going on in there - then I am very happy."

His artistic and artificial way of sound documentation represents a challenge to the claim to objectivity of any "true to life" acoustic recording. For Kirkegaard's work proves that if we listen to things from another perspective, nothing sounds - naturally! - as it sounds to the ear: "It's as though I can climb into it. And the listeners are no longer kept outside, either, but they can enter and feel the darkness. The sounds in there are so much denser, and more compressed." By presenting these sounds in an art context in clubs, museums and at festivals throughout the world, Kirkegaard wants to offer to his audience not simply music but also "make their brains fly" with a concept: "After all, this here is not just a guitar solo. It is nature speaking its own language." Kirkegaard particularly emphasizes the importance to leave a free space in which everyone can find their own access to this language. In fact, the recordings he made of the earth are in themselves so multi-faceted and expressive that the artist decided not to manipulate them - out of respect for their overwhelming natural strength and beauty.

During his latest explorations of natural forces, Kirkegaard has also come across the Rhine, which he calls " the most powerful resonant body in Cologne". Presently he is working on a "sound-mapping" project that concentrates particularly on the river and its acoustic environment and is to be presented as a radio piece by the "Studio für akustische Kunst" at WDR. "The Rhine has a lot to offer, sound-wise", says Kirkegaard contently, "above all those long metal railings along the riverbank promenades. And the bridges. There is so much volatile movement in it, and a lot of secrets." If, as the German philosopher Sloterdijk once said, the world is not sound but the space of its possibility - then the Danish namesake of a philosopher has a great eavesdropping potential awaiting him there. [Sarah Schulze]

Interview in January 2005 with Jacob Kirkegaard for the New York based internet art portal, The Thing

Q — What is your background, what did you study in University?

Ten years ago, I started looking into sounds coming from different layers or spheres. I started recording city and radio noise, with acoustical microphones, then became interested in water and various recording techniques. Being able to dive into matter, like for example water, with a hydrophone was a new experience for me, and opened up the gates for the many possibilities there were in listening to matter, using different recording techniques. I am currently studying in Cologne, Germany at the Academy of Arts and the Media, where I explore sound with an scientific approach. But parallel to that, I have lectured on sound and space at the Architect Academy and at the Art Academy in Copenhagen.

Q — You said you were interested in sounds from different layers or spheres what do you mean by different layers and what do you mean by different spheres?

You are right, in a way the meanings are quite similar. With 'sphere', I am referring to the atmospheric, airy or invisible layers, such as the solar wind (sound) spheres. And where radio transmissions are found or hidden.

Now when I think about what I mean, I think you’re right. Because with 'layers', I am thinking about everything from rather perceptive layers of understanding sound (as for example listening to a sound, using another microphone technique). Ice is a layer too; fluent and volatile--spheres. and -Last month when I was again in Iceland, I did some contact microphone recordings of stones where (it is said that) Elves live. For me, this would also mean to dive in to another layer. So 'spheres' would then more refer to 'atmospheres'.

Q — How did the change from recording ambient urban environments to an element such as water come about?

As water as well is a kind of urban sound, when thinking about tubes and sewers that transports that matter, one of the first recordings I ever did was actually to record dripping water from the tap in my kitchen. When I started pitching it down I soon discovered the rich sonic potential that a water drop bears, and this resulted in various compositions where I used water for creating rhythms and tonal beats. Water was maybe the first 'natural element' for me to discover.

Q — How do you start composing with the sounds you so carefully archive on your website, when they seem to have a fascination of their own?

It is important for me not to process these sounds too much as they, as you say, bear a fascination on their own. When performing with this material, I try to pull myself back as a composer and instead just to present the sounds as I experienced them out there. I would maybe call it a re-presentation or re-localisation of an event for example to fill Share in NYC with the sounds of a Swedish nuclear power plant. That was really fun. I do something though; try to find the harmonics or upper tones in those drones, give them a little equalizing here and there and maybe layer the drones together to create some kind of a narration or a little symphony.

Q — Can you give me an example or two of what a little symphony is with for instance the Swedish Nuclear Power Plant jam at Share in NYC?

A symphony is of course when everything comes together, or at least at some point gives that feeling. It has to do with drama as well. I found lots of drama being in that power plant. And re-mixing this experience in a performance, created a joint drone of all those tubes, basins and turbines in a narrative way, like a nuclear symphony?

Q — Can you give me an example or two of what a little narration is with for instance the Swedish Nuclear Power Plant jam at Share in NYC?

Yes, A little narration was that I for example had a drone running, with beautiful upper tones around 1KHz or more. Then I combined that with another sound file that accidentally fits tonally, but its character lies more in the deeper tonal spectrum. So the narration happened in the slow fade from the first file into the other over a long period.

Q — How did you gain access to the various recording techniques that you mention?

Being a part of the sound department at the Art Academy in Cologne Germany. I was introduced to accelerometer, hydrophones, so I tried them out. The accelerometer was perfect for doing ice recordings, as it has a stick that can be stuck into ice surfaces, while hydrophones could capture the world beneath.

Q — "I explore sound in art with an scientific approach…" What are some examples of your explorations?

For a year and a half I have been investigating VLF phenomenon, which is the very low frequencies emitted from the solar winds. To gain knowledge about this theme I found many interesting informations from the INSPIRE group and other places. This phenomenon has mainly been explored by scientists, but my approach to the subject bears an artistic interest. Additionally, I am diving into seismic explorations of our vibrating earth – this also moves towards scientific investigation.

Q — Can you tell me what that artistic interest is?

I am not sure whether scientists think too much about hidden layers, secret messages, whisperings or songs emitted from souls from other frequencies, when they explore the VLF vibrations through their receivers. Maybe they do. In any case there exists a motivation for me there, in the dreams of other spaces, missing links or black holes, as there always are more sides to a fact. Presenting naturally created cosmic and audible waves in a museum hopefully as well triggers that extra point of view.

Q — What purpose does the university have for the experimentation you are doing?

It is a media art academy, where different media, such as visual art from film, animation to holography, to sound and installation are being explored. Some people are building robots as well. I think it is when it comes to exploring matter as I do with patters of natural vibrations, that I easily find related investigations carried out by scientists that I would have to dive into. The academy motivates me to understanding things in a broader context, teaching me not only about art, but also introducing me to philosophers and scientists such as Foucault, Athanasius Kircher and Florian Dombois.

Q — So when recording you are capturing all meanings; volatile, secret or sacred. How important is it for you to guide your listeners through all of the meanings you mention above?

I have some themes that inspire me, the sacred or layers of meaning in-between. Basically, I would like people to make their own conclusions. The secret sounds site should as well work as a platform for investigations and thoughts, that the audience can fantasize from, if they wish. Connecting with scientific explorations, maybe can bring a broader aspect into my art, than the art has in itself.

Q — Would you consider your work (on your website) the building of an audio database or a sonic record of earth's essential sounds?

No not really. I think to fully enjoy the sounds they should be listened to on a CD or in concert. More important is being 'out there' on the spot with headphones on for days, diving into the soul of the sounds, to feel, see and smell their sources, capturing the whole ‘body’ of a ‘matter.’ My intention with the secret sounds website is more to investigate some things or matters in the world, that somehow touches my interest into the hidden, volatile, secret or sacred in-between layers. From a sonic perspective as a starting point.

Q — How does the live setting of improvised sound mixing affect the music you make?

I find the harmonics or overtones in the drones of my recordings and give them a little equalising here and there. I then layer the drones together to create some kind of narration or little symphony.

Q — We are reinforcing the procedures and your thoughts of research that are mostly scientific, how do you return to interpretation that moves away from scientific recording?

With live performances or installations. On the secret sounds website you can read about the installation 'Söngvar Sólvindanna' that I did with a friend of mine. We have been creating a real-time installation based on the sonic aspects of the northern lights for the art museum KIASMA in Finland. Here our aim is to present natural, scientific matter in an art museum, by listening to the sounds of the auroras using real-time technology. Furthermore, my upcoming Cd release (in February) will be a sonic journey through the geothermal matters of earth that I discovered with accelerometers in Iceland last year. The Cd will be released by Touch and is entitled Eldfjall which means Fire Mountain -or Volcano- in Icelandic. [Diane Ludin]

DAGBLADET INFORMATION

Lyden af jordkloden indefra

Lydkunstneren Jacob Kirkegaard afslører verdens hemmelige lyde med accelerometre og elektromagnetiske antenner og får hver dag mere respekt for sit materiale.

Forbipasserende kan observere ham koncentreret kravlende på et gelænder langs Rhinen i Köln. Liggende med hovedet helt nede i Islands boblende varme kilder. Eller siddende med øret klinet op ad vandrøret i dagligstuen, en reaktor på Barsebäck, eller bare en helt almindelig klippe. Jacob Kirkegaard, 29-årig kunstner, musiker og studerende ved Akademiet for Kunst og Medier i Köln, har gjort det til sin opgave at afsløre verdens hemmelige lyde. På torsdag udgiver han værket Eldfjall med nogle af sine resultater: lydene af de boblende øverste lag i Islands vulkaniske jord, optaget indefra med Kirkegaards helt egen teknik og sammensat i lydstykker med deres helt egen musik.

Spørger man Kirkegaard selv, hvordan han graver de hemmelige lyde frem, er det lidt som at tale med Georg Gearløs eller Storm P: ”Ideen til Eldfjall opstod, da jeg var i Island for at optage nordlys med en radiomodtager jeg havde bygget, som opfanger elektromagnetiske svingninger i det meget lave spektrum, nordlysenes bølger ligger i. Hvis man tænder sådan en modtager herinde midt i byen, kan man næsten ikke høre andet end elektrisk støj. Men hvis man kommer væk fra civilisationen og op nordpå, hvor nordlysene er, så kan man opfange bølgerne fra de her solvinde. Jeg havde også taget mit accelerometer med for at optage noget is – jeg kan godt lide isoverflader, fordi de er sådan nogle midlertidige landområder, som opstår og forsvinder igen. Men så fandt jeg de her varme kilder, der boblede op overalt, og det var bare så oplagt at stikke accelerometeret ned i dem – og der åbnede sig en helt fantastisk verden.”

Accelerometeret, et af Kirkegaards foretrukne arbejdsredskaber, er en slags kontaktmikrofon – altså en mikrofon, som er i kontakt med sit materiale i stedet for at optage det på afstand. Det bliver mest brugt på kraftværker eller fly- og bilfabrikker til at sætte på skroget for at høre, om alt fungerer som det skal. I Island stak Kirkegaard en lille pind skruet fast til accelerometeret ned i de spruttende, kogende og boblende jordlag, så vibrationerne kom direkte op i mikrofonen. ”Jorden havde en utrolig interessant lyd, fordi der er så stort et spektrum i den med dybe varme toner, høje frekvenser ovenover og en bevægelse der gav associationer til rytmer og musik – det var helt oplagt, at man kunne bruge den til at sætte den på som musik derhjemme eller spille til koncerter. Og så kom jeg helt direkte i kontakt med elementerne. Når jeg lå derude på knæ, og det var iskoldt, og kiggede med hovedet helt ned i de her spruttende ting der kom op - der følte jeg, at jeg skulle kigge væk. Fordi det var at kigge ind i jordens intime sprækker. Det er også derfor, jeg har opkaldte mine tracks efter jordgudinder: Det er en hyldest til det feminine og en anerkendelse af min oplevelse af, at der var sjæl i jorden.”

Kirkegaard har tidligere blandt andet udgivet lp’en Luftantenner sammen med Gry Bagøien i ensemblet Æter, soloalbummet 01.02 og Soaked med britiske Philip Jeck. Han er musiker, men han har med tiden trukket sig mere og mere tilbage fra at manipulere sine lyde. Når tracksene på Eldfjall træder frem som ild, lava, vand og liv i vekslende og dynamiske forløb, er det ikke fordi Kirkegaard har siddet og bearbejdet dem. - Hvorfor skal man sidde og høre på lyden af noget varm jord? ”Jeg synes det er interessant at skabe en åbning ind til lyduniverser, der eksisterer og genererer sig selv helt uafhængigt af os. Tidligere arbejdede jeg mere kompositorisk med mine lyde og var heller ikke så konceptuel med, hvordan de skulle optages; jeg brugte almindelige mikrofoner og lakplader der gik i hak og sådan noget. Men med de nye projekter med kontaktmikrofonerne handler det om noget helt andet: Jeg åbner en port ind til en anden, uhørt verden – afslører den og bringer den ud af sit element, så man kan få øje for den. Det er en helt anden type lyd, fordi den kommer indefra; jeg penetrerer så at sige lyden. Der er et langt gelænder langs Rhinen nede i Köln. Det gelænder er sådan et grænseland, ligesom membranen i en højttaler. Og det står altså bare og synger. Af vinden, Rhinen og den kæmpemæssige strøm af skibe, der glider forbi. Og når jeg så sætter øret helt ned til det, så finder jeg jo en hemmelig verden derinde, af susen og syngen og svingninger.”

Jacob Kirkegaard er ved at lave et værk ud af gelænderet ved Rhinen til tysk radio. I sidste uge var han i Berlin med DR og optage lyden af fjernsynstårnets maskineri til en konkretmusik-koncert, der blev sendt live i programmet Radium, og forude venter et projekt med at optage lyden af døde og forladte steder. Undervejs har han fået mere og mere respekt for sit materiale: ”Når man har siddet en hel dag i Barsebäck 100 meter under jorden ved en reaktor og lyttet, mens man bliver mere og mere svedig i hænderne, går man ikke bare ind og smider rundt med sine optagelser i computeren bagefter. Hvem er jeg til at blande mig i de lyde? Jeg peger. Lyden af dig der går ude på gaden er ikke bare nogle skridt på en overflade. Trinene lyder også inde i jordkloden. Dén anden bevidsthed kan jeg godt lide.” [Lotte Folke Kaarsholm]

Soundvenue (DK):

Er det musik?

Fra højtalerne lyder Leif Inges udgave af Beethovens 9. Symfoni, trukket ud over 24 timer. »Det får mig til at tænke på tid. Hvornår gør musik ellers det?«, spørger han retorisk. Jacob Kirkegaard har for nylig stukket en mikrofon i jorden, optaget lyden og udgivet det.

Alle, der kender bare lidt til Kirkegaards katalog vil vide, at han ikke er en mand, der er bange for eksperimenter, eller for utraditionel tankegang, om man vil. Han har været vidt omkring og kommer det stadig. Som 12-årig tog han på egen hånd til København for at overvære en Slayer-koncert, og senere begyndte han at spille i et punkband. Som 19-årig opdagede han og blev betaget af konkretmusikken, og netop den blev vigtig for hans senere kunstneriske udfoldelser. I 2002 udgav han sammen med englænderen Philip Jeck det anmelderroste album 'Soaked' på det toneangivende engelske pladeselskab Touch, og året efter udgav selskabet Bottrop-Boy hans andet album '01.02'.
Nu er Jacob Kirkegaard så endnu engang albumaktuel. Denne gang med et aldeles utraditionelt værk. Det nye album, 'Eldfjall', består af en række avancerede optagelser af vulkansk aktivitet på Island.

Det er imidlertid langt fra kun albums Kirkegaards karriere har kastet af sig. Sideløbende har han stået for lydsiden til utallige udstillinger, og i øvrigt arbejdet med adskillige andre projekter. For nylig uropførte han på Danmarks Radios P2 et stykke konkretmusik bestående af lyden fra den motor, som får restauranten i tv-tårnet i Berlin til at dreje rundt. Projekter som det, eller da han havde optaget lyde fra Barsebäck, og ved hjælp af dem jammede med en kunstnerkollega bevæbnet med californiske han-cikaders parringssang, har fascineret verden over.

Et rent tilfælde
Forskellen på projekter som de nævnte og 'Eldfjall' er, at Kirkegaard på sidstnævnte har ladet optagelserne fremstå uberørte. De er hverken blevet efterbehandlet eller smeltet sammen. Hvert enkelt af albummets 9 numre, der alle har fået navn efter forskellige kulturers jordgudinder, består af de nøgne optagelser af den vulkanske aktivitet på Island. Jacob Kirkegaard fortæller at det faktisk var et tilfælde, at han opdagede kvaliteten i netop disse lyde. Oprindelig var han på Island for at optage lyden af nordlys, da han fik ideen til at optage de lyde, som skulle vise sig at være så rige, at han altså valgte at udgive dem. Det er imidlertid ikke en almindelig mikrofon, men en mere avanceret og meget følsom kontaktmikrofon, et accelerometer, der gør projektet muligt. Han viser glad den umiddelbart simpelt udseende mikrofon frem og forklarer: »Det er ikke fordi jeg er specielt interesseret i teknik. Det er de muligheder den giver mig, der er interessante«. Mikrofonen gør det muligt, at optage lyden indefra. Den blev stukket ned i jorden i områder med vulkansk aktivitet, og de bedste optagelser kom med på pladen. At Kirkegaard i netop dette tilfælde, har valgt ikke at efterbehandle lydene skyldes den enorme rigdom, de indeholder. Den selv samme rigdom som ifølge ham selv legitimerer at udgive dem.

Hvad er det egentlig han laver?
Med 'Eldfjall' er der tale om et værk, der ikke indeholder nogen umiddelbar rytme. Den dikteres ikke for lytteren, der selv må definere den. I det hele taget må man unægtelig sige, at det er et album, der bryder en hel del gængse rammer, og spørgsmålet er, om der overhovedet er tale om musik. End ikke bagmanden selv er sikker: »Måske er det snarere lydkunst, eller hvad man skal kalde det«. Han pointerer imidlertid, at han kommer fra musikmiljøet og vel er en slags musiker, »men jeg er ligeglad. Jeg vil egentlig gerne have, at der bare bliver fokuseret på lyd. Der jo er grundlaget for musik. Det vigtigste er, at jeg laver, det jeg tror på«.

»Det vigtigste er, at det lyder godt, og derfor er det vel også musik på et eller andet plan. Jeg kan for eksempel også godt lide, at lytte til bands som Rhythm & Sound, og jeg kunne sagtens forestille mig igen at spille et instrument og lave mere dikterende musik, men man må prioritere - og jeg synes det jeg laver er interessant«.

Trods det, at lytteren selv må begive sig ind i værket, og definere dets rytme, ser Kirkegaard ikke 'Elfjall' som et vanskeligt værk.

»Det gælder mere om at være åben. Hvis man går ind til det med en forudindtaget mening om, hvad man skal høre, fungerer det ikke. Men sådan er det jo med al musik. Jeg synes, man altid bør forsøge at være åben. Alt andet vil være synd for musikken. Regner man med at høre en bestemt genre, vil man ofte blive skuffet. Sådan mener jeg også det er med mennesker, man børe altid være åben«.

Kirkegaards fortællinger
»Jeg vil gerne undersøge skjulte lyde. De lyde, som er hemmelige, som vi ikke hører normalt«, fortæller han. Og det er i den forbindelse, at accelerometeret kommer ind i billedet. »Det er ligesom, hvis man lægger øret helt tæt til noget. For eksempel et bord eller en væg, så vil man høre dets summen. Man tænker jo ellers ikke normalt på, at de ting laver lyde«. Heri får vi også forklaringen på, hvorfor eksempelvis Barsebäck-projektet havde sin berettigelse. »Jeg synes, det er interessant, at Barsebäck står og synger for os«.

Et andet godt eksempel på det interessante ved de skjulte lyde er et af Jacob Kirkegaards næste projekter, hvortil han introducerer begrebet 'sonic mapping'. Han har, med sin kontaktmikrofon, optaget vibrationerne i et langt metalgelænder ved Rhinen. Begrebet skal forstås på den måde, at når noget ændrer sig på Rhinen, ja, så vil gelænderets vibrationer også gøre det. Hver gang et skib kommer forbi, vil gelænderets lyde altså viderebringe det til os. Endnu engang parrer han altså musik med noget andet.

Hvad det andet så er, kan man diskutere længe. I hvert fald kan man konstatere at Jacob Kirkegaard laver lyde. Han er ikke en musiker i traditionel forstand, og alene det faktum, at han udfordrer vores opfattelse af, hvad musik kan være, gør ham interessant. Om man kan lide hans musik eller ej, skal være op til den enkelte, men at han bidrager med noget, som alle musikelskere kunne få noget ud af at tænke over. Man bør give ham en chance, og gør man det, ja, så bør man være åben. [Emil Kragh-Schwarz]

More info about Jacob Kirkegaards work at:
fonik.dk
secretsounds.dk
Latest project - Loop Tower
Streamed here

Jacob Kirkegaard - Eldfjall

[Click here for interviews in English and Danish]

The Wire (UK):

Jacob Kirkegaard is not so much a composer as a sound hunter - a man on a quest to capture sonic ineffabilities and bring them to our ears. In the past he has used his collection of probes, accelerometers and contact microphones to record the interior noise of ice crystals and the tiny transformative cries of nuclear fission. On Eldfjall (which translates as 'Fire Mountain') he offers an insight into the restlessness of the Earth's core by documenting the geothermal vibrations of Iceland's volcanic geyser regions. Given that they were made in such a tumultuous landscape, it's no surprise that these recordings are wonderfully and fascinatingly various - an utterly inhuman, but strangely immersive array of hisses, slithers, drones and swirls whose cumulative impact far surpasses that of many human contrivances. [Chris Sharp]

Metro (UK):

FRINGE BENEFIT
Music from the outer reaches

Jacob Kirkegaard: Eldfjall (Touch)

Sigur Ros get all the kudos for conjuring images of icecaps and glaciers with their music, but here is the real sound of the Icelandic landscape - literally. Jacob Kirkegaard's Eldfjall consists of geothermal recordings of vibrations in the ground around the areas surrounding the Icelandic towns of Krisuvik, Geysir and Myvatn. The nine tracks were recorded using accelerometers (vibration sensor microphones) which were placed into the earth around geysers to map and record sonic aspects of volcanic activity. There's none of Sigur Ros' soaring tunes or whale song-esque vocals. In fact, there's not really anything approaching melody or rhythm, just an assortment of earthy wholesome burblings that sound variously like the distant rumbling of thunder, amplified static, Autechre and rain falling on a tent. Sorted, geysers. [Graeme Green]

Mojo (UK):

Signal to Noise (USA):

Igloo (USA):

When I read about these Icelandic geothermal earth recordings by Jacob Kirkegaard I knew right away that there was something deep inside the steaming banks of these hinterlands. Hearing what he’s done with these field recordings you will face a brisk, bracing wind and deeper tones of what I consider the end of the Earth. Iceland is truly the personification of a star on our beloved and deteriorating planet. It’s lava flows and volcanicisms have blackened the seas and molten the landscape. Kirkegaard illuminates and characterizes the voice beneath the surface. From breathy gusts to spitting rumble, his microphone has been inserted into the surfaces of far off places possibly never penetrated before his tenuous visit. Pretty much the only dead zone in this recording is its use of breaking into tracks, it would work as a flow of sound rather than a document of places and excerpts. Danish-born Kirkegaard’s use of mapping equipment and electronic accelerators dramatize the already vital whispering, chilling winds and amplify the heartbeat of rich soil. It’s a dirty job, but someone had to do it. Transcendentally fragile organic music.

Just for a Day (USA blog)

Other Music (USA):

Sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard is probably best known outside of his native Denmark for Soaked, his collaborative live disc with British turntable artist Philip Jeck, released on Touch a couple of years back. Eldfjall, however, documents a strictly scientific approach; Kirkegaard made a series of geothermal recordings of vibrations in Iceland around the areas of Krisuvik, Geysir and Myvatn. These recordings were captured with vibration sensor microphones called accelerometers - microphones that are literally stuck into the ground around geysers in order to map "the sonic aspects of volcanic activity at the surface of the earth."

As you can imagine, there is quite a lot of low end rumbling and noisy liquid activity. But what makes this fascinating CD transcend mere documentation is the extreme care and precision that went into its creation. The recording quality is superb and the editing is distinctly calculated. Kirkegaard demonstrates quite a range with a relatively narrow palette. While pitch-wise, most of the recordings stay in the lower end of the frequency spectrum, he manages to create a fairly dynamic listening experience by juxtaposing sparse, almost drone-like recordings with more frenzied and flowing masses of sound. Initially this CD made me think of Japanese sound artist Toshiya Tsunoda, but where Tsunoda tends to focus on intimate and small spaces, Kirkegaard is more interested in denser sonic matter. For fans of artists such as Tsunoda, Chris Watson and Joe Banks' Disinformation project. Well worth checking out. [KH]

Village Voice (USA):

Eddytor's Dozen
by Chuck Eddy
April 11th, 2005 6:55 PM

Underground music for real

VITAL (The Netherlands):

Maybe the term 'Geothermal Recordings' don't mean much to you, but roughly speaking it's sticking a microphone in the ground and record the earth's vibrations. Kirkegaard has done this in the area of Krisuvik, Geysir and Myvatn in Iceland, using of course not a simple radio shack microphone, but accelerometers, which are vibration sensor microphones. They pick up the sonic aspects of volcanic activity at the surface of the earth. The liner notes aren't very clear as to what Kirkegaard has done with those recordings, ie some sort of processing afterwards. Or maybe these are straight forward recordings? That could also be possible, upon playing these nine tracks it is hard to tell. Whereas as his previous solo CD '01.02' (see Vital Weekly 355) was mostly a pleasant, ambientes-que journey through modern life, this 'Eldfjall' is a rather dark environmental walk. Less pleasant by all means, these unearthy rumbles are closer to 'industrial' (I'm sure many find this an out-of-place word here) music than to ambient. Not that Kirkegaard plays harsh music but it's all quite dark and alienated. It's a fascinating journey however of quite uneasy sounds. Captivating! [FdW]

Gaffa (Denmark):

Jacob Kirkegaard laver ikke musik i gængs forstand. Faktisk består den 29-årige danskers nye album Eldfjall udelukkende af uredigerede optagelser af lyde fra jorden. Kirkegaard har under to besøg på Island dokumenteret de vibrationer, der naturligt forekommer i overfladen af vores planet. Det gjorde han med et såkaldt accelerometer – en slags kontaktmikrofon, han anbragte på en pind, som derefter blev stukket direkte ned i gejsere eller området lige omkring dem – altså essentielt åbninger til jordens indre. Eldfjall tager form som ni minimalistiske, abstrakte og ofte støjprægede flader. Som løsrevet musik uden forklaring er det begrænset, hvor interessante de er, men kender man til lydmaterialets unikke baggrund, giver pladen en helt speciel oplevelse. Så føles det nemlig som at spionere på Moder Jord – at lytte til hendes mest intime bevægelser og åndedræt, og man indser hurtigt, at lige meget hvad vi tror, eksisterer der intet som absolut stilhed i denne verden. Eldfjall er således en både tankevækkende og fascinerende udgivelse. [Jakob Rosenbak]

Ekstra Bladet (Denmark):

lyd
FIRE STJERNER
29-årige Jacob Kirkegaard er en af vores fremmeste lydkunstnere, som også internationalt nyder stor bevågenhed. Denne gang har han ved hjælp af et såkaldt accelerometer optaget den islandske, vulkanske undergrund. Ikke musik i gængs forstand, men hvornår har du sidst hørt Moder Jord synge? [Henrik Queitsch]

Citadel (Denmark):

PÅ JAGT EFTER LYD

Jacob Kirkegaard rejser konstant kloden rundt for at optage eller optræde med sine unikke lyde. I anledning af det aktuelle album "Eldfjall" fortæller den ukendte verdensstjerne om de fascinerende lyde, der gemmer sig i alt fra danskvand til vulkaner.

Jacob Kirkegaard er lige vendt hjem fra Berlin, da CITADEL fanger ham i København, inden han et par dage efter drager videre til Køln. Den 29-årige globetrotter er forlængst blevet en efterspurgt herre på den internationale lydkunst-scene og er nærmest altid på farten enten for at give koncerter eller for at finde flere fortryllende lyde, han kan optage. Han fortæller entusiastisk om et sted, han netop har besøgt i det tyske: ”Jeg var på en bullermørk restaurant i Berlin, hvor kun blinde arbejder. Udover at maden smagte meget mere intenst, så begyndte jeg at høre ting så højt, at danskvandens brusen var som stikkende nåle i mit højre øre. Det var ikke just sød musik for ørene, selv om jeg normalt elsker lyden af vand og bobler – jeg har faktisk før komponeret med de lyde.” Anekdoten siger alt om, at Kirkegaard konstant har ørene på stilke. Som han selv udtrykker det: ”Jeg kan fordybe mig i verdens støjhelveder og lade dem åbne den øverste lem i mit hoved, så jeg kan flyve frit”. En poetisk måde at forklare på, hvorfor og hvordan han finder frem til fascinerende lyde allevegne. Eksempelvis blandt islandske vulkaner, hvor han har optaget det aktuelle album "Eldfjall" ved at stikke mikrofoner ned i undergrunden og derved forevige ”jordens musik”. En oplevelse, der har gjort dybt indtryk: ”Dét at rejse så langt for lydens skyld, dét at ligge på knæ i isnende kulde dag efter dag med ørene nede i jorden, og numsen stikkende op i gudernes himmel, dét at bringe et usynligt stykke lyd hjem til finpudsning for derefter at udfolde det i et 18 kanals højtalersystem med subwoofere, og så få en stakkels klub i København eller New York til at ryste i bukserne over naturens ophøjede helvede. Det er altså slet ikke værst...” Jacob opdagede magien ved lyd, da han som ”8-10-årig” skruede rundt i frekvenserne på en ghettoblaster med kortbølgeradio og opdagede, at der henne for enden af skalaen pludselig skete ting og sager i højttalerne. ”Der gemte sig en fjern underverden af arabiske toner og slidte morsesignaler, som dykkede ind og ud af et mudret hav af tyk elektrisk vind og radiostøj. Jeg forestillede mig, at lyd var noget, der rejste rejste igennem kabler, usynlige netværk eller dybt nede i jorden. Hver gang, lyden forsvandt under støjen, tænkte jeg, at et vildt blæsevejr et sted imellem Saudi Arabien og Danmark ruskede så vildt i lyden, at den blev blæst omkuld.” Lyder det nørdet? Det er det også. Men det er samtidig udtryk for et unikt forhold til lyd, der har gjort Jacob Kirkegaard til et verdensnavn. Han bliver dog boende her, hvor det desværre er de færreste, der kender ham. ”I dag er det ligemeget, hvor man bor i min branche. Når jeg er i Island, Tyskland eller Frankrig, så bor jeg dér og indånder stedet. Men det er da altid rart at komme tilbage til Vesterbro igen. Også selvom det regner, og folk råber ad én, når man cykler i den forkerte retning på cykelstien. Jeg er rejst fra Danmark for længe siden. Det gør jeg, hver gang jeg tager på lydekskursioner eller ud for at studere. Og det er dejligt at trække vejret. Men det er forhåbentligt også dejligt for Danmark, når jeg kommer hjem med en ny vind.” [Peter Albrechtsen]

Soundvenue

Jacob Kirkegaard - jordens trancedannende rytme

'Eldfjall' er ikke et af de albums, du kommer til at høre mest i dit liv. Dertil er din hverdag ganske enkelt for travl.

Danske Jacob Kirkegaard udfordrer med sit nye album lytternes opfattelse af, hvad musik kan være. Dets lyde har han nemlig hverken lavet på instrumenter eller laptop, for faktisk er det slet ikke ham selv, men selveste Moder Jord, der har lavet dem. Væbnet med en helt speciel mikrofonteknologi har Kirkegaard på Island optaget den vulkanske aktivitet, der nu gør det ud for musiske kompositioner. Kompositioner der alle har fået navn efter forskellige kulturers jord gudinder.

Jeg vil genre indrømme, at min skepsis var stor, da jeg første gange satte cd'en i afspilleren og hørte den vedvarende lyd af kogende vand. Senere har jeg ændret mening. For at få noget ud af musikken bliver man nødt til at give sig fuldstændig hen, og begive sig ind i en næsten meditativ tilstand. Gør man det, vil man føle, den rytme som ikke umiddelbart kan registreres, men som alligevel er til stede i værket. Man føler jordens rytme smelte sammen med sit egent åndedræt, og man når derved en tilstand, hvor man selv bliver en vigtig del af musikken.

Man skal altså ikke tro, at 'Eldfjall' er noget nemt album. Det er næsten som et lille barn, der kræver tid og opmærksomhed, men som så også kan give én meget tilbage. Er man klar til at acceptere de vilkår, vil man sagtens kunne begejstres af den udefinerbare, nærmest tracelignende tilstand man når under er et intensivt gennemlyt. [Emil Kragh-Schwarz]

Bad Alchemy (Germany):

Um die geothermische Klangwelt von Eldffjall (T33.20) einzufangen, benutzte JACOB KIRKEGAARD Accelerometer. Vibrationssensitive Mikrophone registrierten die vulkanischen Aktivitäten im Umfeld isländischer Geysire. Aus diesen Aufzeichungen konstruierte der dänische Soundartist 9 brodelnde, bebende, rauschende, knisternde und dröhnende Klangbilder. Kirkegaard, der z. Zt. an der Kölner Akademie für Kunst und Medien studiert, hat bisher durch Soaked (Tone 15), eine Kollaboration mit Philip Jeck, und durch den Bottrop-boy-Release 01.02 auf sich aufmerksam gemacht. Seine sehr Touch-typischen Soundscapes ‚erden‘ die Noise Culture in der Noise Nature. Kierkegaard belauscht auf seinem phänomenophilen Horchposten Eis, die Atmosphäre, Atomkraftwerke oder einfach nur menschenleere Gegenden. Er findet Vibrationen und dass die Welt auch nur mit Wasser kocht. Ein schwacher Trost. [Rigobert Dittmann]

Blow Up (Italy):

Il primo cd solista di Jacob Kirkegaard (che qualcuno ricorderà al fianco di Philip Jeck in “Soaked”) si inserisce nella linea di ricerca condotta dal giovane sound artist danese, impegnato a captare e registrare suoni solitamente nascosti, “suoni segreti” come lui stesso li chiama, emessi nel corso di fenomeni naturali. In Islandese la parola “Eldfjall” significa montagna di fuoco, vulcano, ed è proprio i suoni dei vulcani, o meglio della loro attività che si propaga attraverso il suolo in forma d’onda, che Kirkegaard ha registrato lo scorso agosto in Islanda avvalendosi di una serie di accelerometri, strumenti a forma d’asta che possono essere inseriti nel terreno e che captano le vibrazioni che in esso si diffondono.“Dappertutto nel cosmo esistono nuclei sonori indipendenti, privi di relazione diretta con la sfera umana ma connessi alle forze che muovono il mondo. Sono felice quando riesco a prestare ascolto alla superficie vibrante di questi nuclei e registrare quello che accade”, afferma Kirkegaard. Uno dei suoi obiettivi è quello di entrare in questi nuclei sonori, in ritmi normalmente nascosti all’orecchio umano al fine di percepirne il lavorio interno, l’oscurità, la densità. Per questo in “Eldfjall” Kirkegaard ha rivolto l’attenzione alle vibrazioni dei vulcani: connesse a movimenti interni alla Terra e a un’attività che va avanti nel corso dei millenni, rappresentano forze estranee ai ritmi umani quotidiani eppure intimamente legate alle origini dell’esistenza del mondo. Non a caso l’artista, attingendo a diverse culture e tradizioni, ha intitolato ogni traccia dell’album a una divinità femminile simbolo di miti di generazione, distruzione e fertilità, dalle più note Kali e Gea a divinità della tradizione scandinava come Gerd o Nerthus. Il tutto a creare una rete di riferimenti a forze e movimenti sonori ctoni riflessi peraltro nei suoni del cd. Suoni non facili, in cui è necessario perdersi per trovare il senso di movimenti e tessiture ritmiche inizialmente sorde e ostili ma che poi scopriamo ricche di sfaccettature. Un magma primordiale da cui emergono suggestioni di venti, percussioni e ritmi ossessivi simili ad assalti noise, scoppiettii e gorgoglii di fondo annullati da muri di rumore bianco, vento e ritmi incalzanti che non lasciano il fiato. Ne emerge un ritratto assai efficace del caos primordiale da cui tutto è nato, incontro di forze vitali e distruttive, di cui Kirkegaard ha saputo rendere tutta la forza, l’alterità, il senso di minaccia e di continuo rigenerarsi. (8) [Daniela Cascella]

Almost Cool (Web):

Danish musician and sound-sculpter Jakob Kirkegaard is interested in the sounds that most people will never get the chance to hear. In addition to collaborating with lots of different artists over the course of the past couple years (including Philip Jeck), he has put together an increasingly interesting body of work of sounds he has captured in a natural environment using homemade and experimental microphones. These spaces include many different locations that are known for their desolation, including deserts, volcanic earth, ice, and nuclear power plants.

Eldfjall is his newest release and like his other recent work focuses in on a rather specific body of sound sources. The release consists of geothermal recordings of vibrations in the ground around the area of Krisuvik, Geysir, and Myvatn in Iceland recorded using an array of accelerometers and vibration sensor microphones. The result is a release that is jittery and alive at times and still and droning at others, a bizarre slice of sonic life from under the surface of the group from an island known for its geothermal activity.

The biggest question one probably wants to know the answer to regarding work like this is whether it's listenable, and like a lot of difficult music, that answer to that will probably change depending on the person. "Ala" opens with a dark, droning rumble before shifting off into a stereo-shifting piece of soft gurgling splashes while "Gaea" opens with what sounds like the faint blipping readouts of a machine measuring some sort of activity (not quite geiger-clicky, but close) before drifting into a softer droning section that gains in intensity like an encroaching wind coming down a mine shaft.

Elsewhere, the recording is much more alive and even noisy as "Nerthus" percolates with sections of crispy noise while "Kali" seems to batter the microphone with a steady wash of sound that sounds like water during a particularly heavy boil. In a strictly musical sense, the gurgling undertones of "Al-Lat" would probably tickle the ears of just about any ambient music fan. As a whole Eldfjall is an interesting document, but as a whole the sound portraits just don't vary that much. Most tracks contain some sort of liquid gurgling-type sound and the overall range is from peaceful to rapid and overdriven, while the frequency range is most often lacking any sort of low-end (which is odd, considering the actual sub-earth sounds recorded). If you're a person who finds field-recording and the specifics and even scientifics of it interesting, you'll probably want to seek this release out, but if you're looking for something more musical, there are better places to look in the Touch catalogue.

Gonzo Circus (Belgium):

Amper dertig is de Deen Jacob Kirkegaard – hij woont en studeert in Keulen – toch neemt zijn longlist van projecten, tentoonstellingen en opnames uitzonderlijke proporties aan. Jacob Kirkegaard deelt met mij zijn fascinatie voor geluid in zijn meest pure vorm. Kirkegaard creëert niet, hij registreert, ontgint, zoomt in op wat vaak vergeten is. Met zelfgemaakte elektromagnetische ontvangers en hydrophones neemt hij op diverse locaties geluiden op. Voor zijn laatste werkstuk ‘Eldfjall’ trok hij naar Ijsland waar hij in geisers en vulkanen opnameapparatuur plaatste. Interessant fotomateriaal over zijn onderneming vindt u op de site http://bulletin.touchmusic.org.uk. De aarde sluimert, leeft en ademt. Het is een trektocht naar het diepste punt van de aarde, de soundtrack bij een boek uit mijn jeugd, maar vooral een intrigerende ontmoeting met moeder natuur. Een aanrader voor mensen die vertrouwd zijn met het werk van die andere pionier Chris Watson. (www.fonik.dk) [pds]

Freemusic (Czechia):

I další album, které na značce Touch vychází, pochází ze sonického zkoumání naší země. Stojí za ním Jacob Kirkegaard, v Dánsku narozený zvukový experimentátor, žijící a studující v současné době v Kolíně nad Rýnem. Jedná se o zvukového hledače, jenž propojuje svojí akademickou dráhu (přednáší na Royal Architect Academy a Art Academy v Kodani) s hudební kariérou (spolupracoval například s Philipem Jeckem na společném albu Soaked, což je záznam jejich vystoupení na jazzovém festivalu Moers v Německu)... I když ruku na srdce - jmenování Jakoba hudebníkem by po vyslechnutí jeho nahrávek v mnoha lidech zanechalo pouze nechápavý výraz. Jacob se totiž zaměřuje na odkrývání "hudebních" projevů země. Zachycuje a odkrývá zvuky vulkanické činnosti, pohybů ledových mas, atmosférických projevů země, opuštěných míst či atomové elektrárny. Vše zaznamenává na akcelerometry (měřiče vibrací), hydrofony (přístroje pro příjem zvuků přenášených vodou) a další vlastnoručně vyrobené přijímače zvuku na elektromagnetické bázi.

Na desce Eldfjall zaostřil Jacob svou pozornost na zvukové projevy tektonicky neklidného místa planety - Islandu. Geotermální nahrávky vibrací země pořídil během jara a podzimu loňského roku. Zemské zvuky jsou zachyceny akcelerometry a mikrofony (vibračními senzory), jež ponořil do země na mnoha místech Islandu v blízkosti gejzírů, aby zmapoval zvukové projevy vulkanické aktivity styku dvou zemských desek. Výsledkem je devět surových stop, jež nás zavrtávají pod povrch zemský dovnitř zemské kůry. Čilý "provoz" pod islandským povrchem má nesčetné nuance (bublání, syčení, drhnutí vrstev o sebe atd.) a zde uvedené příklady jsou pouze zlomkem toho, jakým hlasem naše planeta ve svých útrobách promlouvá. Na rozdíl od BJ Nilsena nechává Jakob nahrávky ve své přírodní nahotě. Neupravuje je ani nedoplňuje dalšími zvukovými vrstvami. Proto se výsledek v mých očích jeví jako zajímavý pokus spíše vědeckého vyznění. I z tohoto důvodu si ho neodvážím porovnávat s ostatními recenzovanými deskami. [bez hodnocení]

Wreck This Mess (France):

Voici un disque aux sonorités presque palpables tant elles sont denses. Ce mini-album répand une succession de mugissements sépulcraux, de grondements étranges… Au sens strict, c'est une musique chtonienne : tous ces sons proviennent de capteurs ayant enregistrés le bruit de geysers et autres bouleversements géologiques qui perturbent le sol islandais. Des enregistrements natures, seulement amplifiés puis tronçonnés en séquences de quelques minutes et qui nous font pénétrer dans une autre dimension… Tout comme les captations de l'entomologiste sonore Chris Watson ou les expérimentations acoustiques et numériques de Hazard relayées avec constance par le label Touch. Ce document particulier témoigne d'un travail d'exploration d'environnements sonores qui allie approche scientifique et démarche artistique (Danois, Jacob Kierkegaard est diplômé de l'Ecole Supérieure des Arts et Médias de Cologne).[ LD]

RUIS (Belgium):

De 29-jarige Deen Jakob Kirkegaard verdiept zich, letterlijk en figuurlijk, in het geluid van de aarde. Kirkegaards missie bestaat uit het ontginnen van geluiden die niemand ooit te horen kreeg. Kirgegaard gaat op zoek naar de sound die zich onder de aardkorst van ijsland bevindt. Hiervoor werd speciale apparatuur neergelaten in geisers en kraters die de ondergrondse vibraties omzetten in een zeer dicht en rijk geluid. De negen opnames zijn donker maar gevarieerd en blijven boeien van begin tot eind. [DD]

Undertoner (Denmark):

Det er lyden af Jordens pladetektonik, der fremstår uberørt på albummet Eldfjall. Og hvis man synes, det lyder kedeligt, bør man ændre sin mening – for det er hverken specielt ensartet eller kedeligt at lytte til Jordens lyde.

Hvis man lægger sit øre mod jorden, giver den umiddelbart ikke meget lyd fra sig. Og selv hvis man graver et hul og stikker hovedet derned, er der stadig meget stille. Men de steder på Jorden, hvor de store kontinentalplader støder sammen eller fjerner sig fra hinanden, sker der mere. Der er store kræfter på spil, og det ses ved, at der i disse områder ofte er vulkanudbrud eller jordskælv. Og det er begivenheder, som så absolut giver lyd fra sig.

Jacob Kirkegaard fokuserer i sin musik på den skjulte musikalitet, der findes overalt omkring os. Det kan nok diskuteres, om de ni numre på Eldfjall overhovedet bør regnes for at være musik, eller om det mere er lydkunst. Under alle omstændigheder er det værd at lytte til.

Eldfjall er optaget på Island, men Jacob Kirkegaard har ikke blot lagt en mikrofon mod overfladen af øen. Han har stukket en bestemt type kontaktmikrofon – et såkaldt accelerometer - ned i den islandske undergrund. Jacob Kirkegaard siger, at han ikke interesserer sig for teknik, men mere for de muligheder, som teknikken giver ham. I tilfældet med Eldfjall må han være rigtig tilfreds, for lydene af den islandske undergrund er spændende og varierende.

Det er de ubehandlede lyde af jordens indvendige, som er udgivet på Eldfjall. Ubehandlede, fordi Jacob Kirkegaard synes lydene er interessante og varierede nok i sig selv. Og det er de også, selv om de første gennemlyt kan være svære at komme igennem.

Der er ingen let måde at lytte til Eldfjall på. Numrene har ingen umiddelbar rytme eller melodilinje. Det kan på samme nummer både syde blidt, rumle kraftigere eller boble, som om noget koger. Der er både dybe toner og svagt skærende, diskante lyde - og ofte i flere lag oven på hinanden. Lydene bliver på mange numre ikke fadet blidt ind i hinanden, men der klippes brat mellem stemningerne.

Andre steder bølger den organiske støj frem og tilbage mellem højre og venstre kanal. Små klikkende slag og boblende lyde kan virke som rytme, selvom de falder spredt på numrene. Stilheden mellem numrene fungerer godt som et hvil for ørerne, for Eldfjall fungerer bedst, når anlægget er skruet godt op over middel – selv om de dybe bastoner får kaffestellet til at klirre. Af og til savner man dog, at det enkelte nummer fortsætter længere, for man kan godt føle sig revet ud af en stemning, når lydbilledet pludseligt skifter brat eller et nummer slutter.

Eldfjall er ikke et album, hvor man skelner mellem de forskellige numre, for selv om der er forskellige lyde spredt gennem hele albummet, er det egentlig lige meget, hvilket nummer man lytter til.
Albummet er en helhed, og det kræver absolut åbenhed fra lytterens side. Det er i detaljerne og lagene i lydbilledet, at Eldfjall er stærkest. Det, der umiddelbart lyder som ensformig støj, har en dybde og detaljerigdom, som man langsomt lytter sig ind på, efterhånden som øret vænner sig til støjen. Eldfjall kræver tid, men giver til gengæld fornemmelsen af tidsløshed tilbage til lytteren. [Jakob Lisbjerg]

Sonic Arts Network (UK):

It has taken me a few weeks of having this CD in my possession before I finally found an opportunity to play it; let alone review it. After all, it is difficult to find the perfect occasion to listen to recordings of geothermal rumblings. Getting ready for a night out, I’ve never been tempted to apply make-up while listening to the earth’s crust gurgling. Similarly, on long car journeys I can’t see myself humming along to seismic vibrations.

These are sounds which require concentrated, undisrupted listening and anyone lucky enough to have time to engage in such an exercise will be justly rewarded.

Everything about this album was completely alien to me; from the strange other-worldly sounds to the unpronounceable track names. Even the beautiful, muted images on the CD sleeve seem somehow bizarre and impenetrable.

Using accelerometers – vibration sensor microphones - Kirkegaard is able to map the sonic aspect of volcanic activity at the surface of the earth and Eldjfall is a compilation of recordings taken from geysers in Iceland.

You experience the sound as vibrations, retaining some of the huge physical forces present at the source of the recordings. I found it impossible to distinguish between what I was hearing and the sensation of the sound travelling through my body. It was a surreal experience; one which highlights the sensory overlap between hearing and feeling. I was most aware of this – surprisingly – in the gaps between the tracks, when the silence feels like it is still pulsing with the aftershock of the vibrations.

As for the tracks themselves, it is a hopeless task to try to describe them: they are unlike anything I have ever heard before. Bass-heavy rumbling gives way to a tinny high-pitched tapping which then dissolves into an uncomfortably visceral noise; as though the earth is mimicking the internal sounds of our bodies.

In describing the sounds, I am forced to fall back on modes of comparison. My notes are a jumble of metaphors. Everything “sounds like” something else. In track one the earth ‘breathes’ and there is a sound like water running beneath a sheet of ice. Track two features a segment reminiscent of the blurry noise made by a screaming crowd at a music gig. Track three has a rhythmic quality; a regularly repeating sound like an airplane propeller rotating and parts of track five sound like a faraway swarm of bees, gathering momentum. These tracks generate questions about the limitations of our vocabulary to capture the nuances of sound. My clichéd similes can’t begin to describe the experience of listening.

From a practical perspective, this is a CD which needs to be listened to on a high-tech, high-spec sound system and my paltry CD player and budget speakers mangled the finely-modulated sounds, causing distortion and frequent static. This detracted from what is, in fact, a carefully edited collection of recordings.

I remain unsure how and when a CD like this should be listened to and I certainly can’t endorse it as relaxing; these sounds are a disturbing mixture of soothing and sinister and I felt fairly drained at the close of its 36 1/2 minutes. But it nevertheless resonates; both literally and metaphorically. In their capacity to express the subtle noises of the earth readjusting and in the multi-sensory experience of listening to them, these tracks transcend the sum of their parts. Not only has Jacob Kirkegaard mapped the environment in which he has made these recordings: he has created an album that can transform the environment in which it is played. [Jana Phillips]

lostatsea.net:

Sound Art tends to reside in the womb of babbling brooks, birdsong and other such surreptitious sounds of nature’s muddled majesty. Often born by way of government grants and acting as aural journals of a particular person’s voyage, the ensuing compositions are more valued for their information content rather than as relics of passionate creation.

Along just such a path, Denmark-born Jacob Kirkegaard ventured with turntablist Philip Jeck to harvest musical sounds plunged in the yawning layers of the earth’s crust. With accelometers, vibration sensor microphones and homemade electromagnetic receivers, Kirkegaard has since wandered about Kriuvik, Geysir and Myvatn - all quaint towns perched in Iceland - and mined geothermal vibrations from that island’s soil.

From the murky, pensive rumble and bustling bubble of “Ala”, however, Eldfjall is a poised, intimate affair. Rather than isolating distinct sounds and rearranging them at will, Kirkegaard treasures the order and particularity of these gurgling splashes, pops and shrill winds as though they were artifacts. For this reason, such works seem content not to be something on their own, but to disclose shapes, form and values that are each noises possibility. As opposed to here, there and everywhere, the sense is imparted that one is being carefully lowered in scheduled segments, delving deeper and deeper into an underground community of sound. The effect is such that one imagines one’s self as spying on a way of life that has gone on for some time now, regardless of the transitory projects issued from those above.

With a sudden rush of brittle shards of noise stabbing at one’s ears like so many sharp needles, one notes this work’s tendency to go stark raving mad at any moment; “Coatlicue” is bathed in an almost post-industrial background of sparks and metallic crashes, alongside churning layers of lava which grumble underneath the intricately interwoven patterns like an antiquated seaside factory.

Meanwhile, layered deep in a bed of cathedral reverb, the dim, reedy intonations of “Kali” mimic the creak of black ice under tidal currents that roll onto a rocky beach; Kirkegaard divulges an abundance of sounds by capturing each moment at numerous angles. Be that as it may, having such a particular sound source as its origin also works to limit this effort’s power.

Whereas the first half of the album offers minor deviations upon the compact, billowing drones, punctuated now and again by clipped, shaved and trimmed clicks, the process gradually grows redundant. While the level of detail is engrossing and pieces flow intriguingly, all too often the lengthy peaks and troughs remain static, venturing little. Granted, through such a single-minded approach, the precious brilliance of the object is revealed by the force of this assertion, but with it brings a sense of tragic dependence. As the work passes away, pieces appear engulfed in Kirkegaard’s fascination with geothermal activity, which renders this a useful scientific document, but one devoid of musical distinctions. [Max Schaefer]

geiger.dk (Denmark):

Island fascinerer moderne musikere på mere end én måde. Vist har trekløveret Björk, Múm og Sigur Rós leveret en efterhånden pæn stak af de sidste ti års mest interessante plader, men også øens landskaber har over de seneste par år tiltrukket flere kunstnere i krydsfeltet mellem musik og videnskab. Deriblandt industrial-legenden Chris Watson, der i 2003 udgav cd’en Weather Report, som bl.a. rummede lydcollagen ”Vatnajökull”, der fulgte en isbræs kredsløb fra fødsel til opløsning. Den cd udkom på det fine britiske eksperimental-mærke Touch – og det samme gør nu den danske lydkunstner og tidligere Æter-musiker Jacob Kirkegaards lignende musique concréte-værk Eldfjall, som i stedet for isens vandring tager udgangspunkt i Islands kraftige geotermiske aktivitet: Nærmere bestemt øens gejsere og den geologiske rumlen, der opgiver dem. En usædvanlig lydkilde, som er blevet optaget på en række accelerometere, der er blevet placeret i jordoverfladen på de pågældende lokaliter. Derefter er optagelserne kun blevet mixet, redigeret ned og monteret i forhold til hinanden: Dette er den rå lyd af jordens indres fugtige ydre.

Når man tænker på hvor voldsomme kræfter, der egentlig er på spil – ”numrene” bærer sigende nok religiøst farvede titler som ”Gaea”, ”Nerthus” og ”Kali” – er det i grunden bemærkelsesværdigt, hvor dulmende de virker i praksis. De opfangede vibrationer fra jord, vand og vel også – i hvert fald i baggrunden – lava viser sig nemlig at have en egen for det meste underspillet rytmik og tonalitet, der bør tiltale faste lyttere af såvel dronemusik som click’n’cut. Men hvor den musik, der som oftest opstår inden for disse genrer, kan virke lovlig fortænkt og steril, lever disse optagelser bogstaveligt talt. Lyden er dyb og varm som en jættes hjerteslag – og den står aldrig stille. ”Rytmen” og ”dronen” er nemlig til syvende og sidst produkter af en stiv og ufleksibel menneskelig tankegang, der vil indgrænse alting. Naturens nærmeste ækvivalenter til disse fænomener udfolder sig uden at tænke sig om først – i en konstant tilstand af flux, der opløser begreberne i forhold til både sig selv og hinanden. Og netop fordi Moder Jord – Gaea eller Nerthus, som henholdsvis grækerne og urgermanerne kaldte hende – har sat sine fedtede, autentiske fingeraftryk på alt, denne cd rummer, bliver Eldfjall til formidabel ambient. Ambient af den slags, man snarere reagerer på med kroppen end med bevidstheden. Måske er det, man opdager med dette album, at jordens hjerteslag rent faktisk ikke er så voldsomt anderledes end éns eget. Og det uanset om det rent lydligt tager form af en susen, en sprutten, en rumlen, en boblen eller en tør, flammende knitren.

Mange mener, at musik og videnskab er to begreber, der under ingen omstændigheder bør blandes sammen. Tro om igen: Det er blot den ovennævnte indsnævrede menneskelige tankegang, der spiller dig et puds. Eldfjall beviser, at videnskab er musik, og at de to ting nok i virkeligheden aldrig har været forskellige. I hvert fald var det sikkert lyde som disse, vores fjerneste forfædre forsøgte at efterligne og organisere, da de samlede deres første instrumenter op fra jorden. Og selvom Kirkegaards værk måske ikke ligefrem siger, at alt siden dét tidspunkt har været en fejltagelse, dokumenterer den på bedste vis det frugtbare i at vende tilbage til rødder, der er dybere end os selv. [Steffen B. Pedersen]

Criticas Novas (Portugal):

Houve um tempo em que a música electrónica sugeria um mundo inteiramente artificial, com a cultura a substituir a natureza. Tal não se verificou nem parece que venha a acontecer no futuro, desmentindo assim a imagética da ficção científica, com essa mesma electrónica a referenciar-se cada vez mais no mundo natural para o desenvolvimento das suas estratégias (Fibonacci, atractores estranhos, etc., etc.). A fórmula “field recording” levou finalmente estas práticas para o domínio da ecologia sonora, quando pouco antes a arte parecia assumir-se como uma “anti-ecologia”, ou seja, como a constituição de um sistema paralelo de produção exclusivamente humana. Pois tais práticas têm agora um novo aderente, Jacob Kirkegaard. Antes ocupado com a manipulação digital dos característicos sons da manipulação de gira-discos, confirmando o artifício como um “remake” desnaturalizante (investimento esse, de resto, que viria a resultar na sua colaboração com Philip Jeck e os seus velhos Dansettes), eis que o dinamarquês radicado na Alemanha se volta para a Terra e para a criação sonora com base nos fenómenos naturais. “Eldfjall” consiste, precisamente, na amplificação sem qualquer intervenção – é ele que o garante –a nível de processamento ou de mistura, das texturas auditivas provocadas por geysers e estremecimentos da crosta terrestre, captadas em diferentes alturas e locais na Islândia. Da parte de Kirkegaard não houve, sequer, a preocupação de que estas recolhas tivessem um tratamento especificamente musical, com algum tipo de estruturação ou de sequenciação que implicasse uma ideia de início e outra de fim. O seu papel não é, pois, o de um compositor, mas simplesmente o de um “revelador” de sons normalmente imperceptíveis ao ouvido ou pelo menos não isolados desta forma, pelo simples facto de que, se calha observarmos um geyser, o vê-lo secundariza o ouvi-lo. Face a este género de trabalhos, compreende-se a preferência pela utilização de tais materiais, quando afinal as sínteses por computador não fazem mais, em muitos casos, do que imitar o que a própria natureza já “sintetizou”.

ei (USA):

Auf Abwegen (Germany):