Klangkorpus by Helga & Tanja

«Rich, pleasantly redeeming, deeply satisfying. As if there is hope.» - «Lira gillar»- Leif Carlsson, Lira Musikmagasin

“Such connections between what you see and what you hear are an explosive experience for the brain to take part in.” – Torkjell Hovland, ballade.no

"The music sounds otherworldly and untimely, often quite abstract and sometimes even industrial-like, but flows in a deep organic manner." - Jan Granlie, Salt Peanuts

«Myhr & Orning are – as a duo – preoccupied with the possibilities of improvisation (…) they succeed in their attempt to explore new possibilities, new textures, a distorted fusion.» - Ivan Rod

Motvind Records presents the second duo album of the year featuring violin and cello, this time performed by Helga Myhr and Tanja Orning! Myhr has been featured in our catalogue multiple times, while Orning boasts an extensive discography with esteemed labels such as Aurora, Hubro, Kirkelig Kulturverksted, ECM, and Prisma.

Since writer Audun Vinger has penned the liner notes for this release, we’ll pass the word to him as we couldn’t have written it better ourselves:

Strings and Stamps
When two become one. A cliché from romantic texts, perhaps, but also an apt saying for the duo that has created the music on this album. They come from different backgrounds and traditions but have both found ways to break free from those conventions without making an ostentatious break—instead, it feels entirely natural and deeply organic. A new realm has opened up for us and for them, where their strings intertwine like a shared climbing plant, forming a sound sculpture that can be heard, seen, smelled, and felt. A sound corpus, if you will.

Tanja Orning is one of Norwegian contemporary music’s foremost figures and has delighted audiences in many settings over the years, using various methods to explore the cello’s unknown core and potential. Originally from a classical music background, she discarded traditional methods to embark on an exploration of improvisational music. Her encounter with Helga Myhr and her Hardanger fiddle on Klangkorpus showcases the overlapping temperature fields of their musical traditions, which they are by no means confined to. Myhr’s work in folk music has been recognized in recent years for her innovative archival activism and her use of the same instrument in modern jazz and folk-pop projects.

However, on this recording, it is the sound textures that take center stage, and it is incredibly captivating to witness how they challenge each other to become one instrument, one body, with gentle and intense strokes. This is noticeable and explicitly stated in named parts—let’s call them songs—like “Hair and Steel” and “Four Hands.” Here, the elements merge. Other parts of the recording are more descriptive, where the physical form of the instrument creates melody, as in “Sargsang” and “String Chorale.” One ventures into perilous waters when trying to put the ineffable into words, as artistic expressions, especially musical ones, often do. One can easily resort to poetic weather phenomena or words with a dangerously artistic gravity. Can we not just as well call them what the sounds can also be experienced as—“Arpeggiåså” or “Trilltrall”? Helga and Tanja are not more complicated than that, and they do so here.

I have experienced these two playing together, as a duo or part of larger ensembles, in many venues and situations. In a decommissioned church turned concert hall, in gallery spaces of varying sizes and stiffness, in a basic Norwegian cultural center jazz club, and in an old, timbered barn on a steep hillside. A similar level of communication is evidently achieved anywhere. Klangkorpus was recorded in the studio at Flerbruket, but it is hard to overlook a particular concert experience I had with the two of them. Some might say that improvisational music is about creating something new out of nothing. It’s not entirely false, but the performers always bring something of their own—distinct signatures, past encounters, and they—and the audience—are shaped by the context in which the music is experienced. The annoying creak of the jacket of the person in the chair in front, something odd you experienced on the way that doesn’t quite leave your mind, visual distractions, and the room’s atmosphere. Sometimes, there are direct precedents. During the pandemic, a period that perhaps has had worse effects afterward than the strange calm many of us actually felt at the time, I saw the duo perform two mesmerizing sets at Kunstnernes Hus in Oslo. This was during the reopening of the exhibition Stamp by one of the country’s leading contemporary artists, Mari Slaattelid. Her paintings had been hanging for weeks without anyone being allowed to see them, but now there was new hope in the air, and we could finally gather for new impressions, together. It affected us.

The selection of her paintings at that time was based on a combination of sun motifs and her so-called stamp works—where the horizon line where sky and earth meet is twisted and repeated in a series of works with a peculiar painterly quality. A motif from this exhibition also graces the cover of Klangkorpus, along with a photograph from the performance inside—but is this music a commentary on what they saw and experienced back then, recreated in a studio long afterward? A musical ekphrasis?

Those who were present at that time felt they had experienced something significant, but what about those who can "only" enjoy the music here and now? Do you need a memo beforehand? This is a question often asked in the context of improvisational music and art. To quote Mari Slaattelid from the elegant publication Templates released in conjunction with the exhibition where Tanja and Helga performed:

Why does one work overshadow another? Something is at stake, and art is about not knowing what. Common experiences must be channeled into the painting and out again, intentions must go in and out. Smartness must go into hiding; smartness is futile. You never oversee or control what the work means. When you unfold events and visions, you draw conviction from a wild practice.

In the music presented in Klangkorpus, something is absolutely at stake, but through Tanja Orning and Helga Myhr’s wild practice and soulful musicality, we can all find our own meaning, conviction, and satisfaction.

Helga Myhr is a hardanger fiddle player and singer, working in the field of Norwegian folk music and contemporary and experimental music. Her first solo album, Natten veller seg ut, was released on the label Motvind Records in October 2019. Myhr composed her first commission work, Andsyning, at Osafestivalen 2020. Andsyning will be released at the record label Heilo on October 7, 2022.

helgamyhr.com