Search:fredrik rasten

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

‘Their ability to harmonize together is stunning, their reedy voices coming together and pulling apart amid delicate fingerstyle guitar and concertina deployed in just intonation, which imparts a deeply resonant, almost glowing harmonic presence. It’s all quite subtle, and if you only listen to the way the voices of Cater and Rasten blend you might even miss it—but the full sonic spectrum is what distinguishes and, in certain ways, connects it to traditional practice… Although the album is pure balladry, unfolding with exquisite patience, each song contains nifty little flourishes or instrumental elements that set them apart, such as the slide guitar and wheezy bass harmonica on For the Ear That is No More, or the slow peal of trumpet on Death and the Lady, courtesy of Rasten’s partner in Pip and Oker, Torstein Lavik Larsen. (Peter Margasak, Nowhere Street).
‘All done with such grace and elegance, without a note wasted or any required. Wonderful… faultless and deeply considered’ (Glenn Kimpton, KLOF).

Three high English and Scottish ballads, and three original settings of European folk tales.
Matt gatefold cover; gloss spot varnish.
Check it out!

A meditative, folk-inflected score rooted in improvisation, ‘Dragon’s return’ echoes the soul of A film long buried behind the Iron Curtain



With Dragon’s Return, Australian composer and multi-instrumentalist Oren Ambarchi and Norwegian guitarist Fredrik Rasten present a new, meditative score to Eduard Grecner’s eponymous 1967 Slovak cult film — a stark, black-and-white parable.



The album captures a unique live performance recorded at the Videodroom Festival during Film Fest Ghent in October 2024, where this new score premiered alongside the film in collaboration with the Slovak Film Institute. What began as a fleeting, improvisational encounter between music and image has since taken on a life of its own — an evocative sound world that retains its power even in the absence of visuals.



The album will be available on vinyl and all digital platforms from September 12 via VIERNULVIER Records. The vinyl edition includes an obi strip, a booklet with film stills, and extensive liner notes on the film.



The label is known for shedding new light on forgotten films through reimagined soundtracks — claire rousay’s acclaimed The Bloody Lady being the most recent example.


“Folklore meets avant-garde in an ancient drama - a ballad about love, hate and finding a way out of loneliness” - Rastislav Steranka (Slovak Film Institute)



Ambarchi and Rasten do not accompany the images so much as speak through them. Their interplay — on guitars, flutes, percussion, and voice — unfolds slowly, without a fixed destination, culminating in subtle, entrancing drones. With few breaks or ruptures, this trippy, folk-inflected continuous composition invites surrender.



Rasten’s 12-string guitar and delicate use of voice create layered textures that shimmer and shift. Ambarchi, known for his electro-acoustic work, here explores a radically softer mode — strumming, bowing and coaxing tones from his instrument as though it were a string section unto itself. He blows into shells, adding breath and texture to the sonic palette, touching on something elemental.


Together, they evoke a sound world that feels both ritualistic and strangely familiar — as if echoing from a forgotten ceremony or dreamed into being after hearing an old folk tale. Rooted in improvisation, the music speaks in tones both intimate and expansive, shaped live in dialogue with the film and with each other, with only minimal overdubs added afterward.

I envision this music as emanating from a moon inhabited by otherworldly life forms and ecosystems; these sounds as evoking the moon’s topographies, beings, lunar rivers, and strands of light — as if this moon’s essence were itself sonic, vibrational matter.

Musically and acoustically, Strands Of Lunar Light departs from a set of tones corresponding to a confined harmonic series segment of a very low fundamental frequency: 5.15 hertz. Through twelve continuous sections, each employing various methods of activating openly tuned guitar strings, the music is sculpted from the twenty-four pitches corresponding to harmonics 24 through 47 of this fundamental frequency.

At times, the natural second (octave) harmonics of the open strings are activated and introduce a secondary, octave transposed version of the original harmonic series segment, doubling the fundamental frequency to 10.30 hertz, and thereby revealing a brighter vibrational realm.

As a consequence of the rational pitch relationships integral to harmonic series of tones, these two sub-audio fundamental frequencies (pitch wise existing two and three octaves below the E-string of a double bass, respectively) can be heard in the music as the frequencies of the interference patterns produced by the simultaneous sounding of any pair of adjacent tones in the respective sets of tones.

These interference patterns, of 5.15 or 10.30 hertz (depending on the octave of the tones produced), are perceived as even pulsations occurring with varying degrees of clarity over the course of the piece.

I imagine these fundamental frequencies and their related harmonic tones as the elemental components of a moon, and this music as offering a glimpse into its vast lunar-sonic existence.

Fredrik Rasten, August 2024

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Resonant Trees, the first vinyl release from French composer-performer Léo Dupleix. An active member of the international community of younger musicians working with just intonation, Dupleix has composed works for solo instrumentalists and ensembles in Europe and Japan, as well as performing extensively on harpsichord, piano and electronics. His music is distinguished by a formal clarity and elegance of surface, gently shaping pure intervals into delicate melodic patterns and shimmering harmonic planes.

Resonant Trees presents two side-long pieces for harpsichord and ensemble, both setting slowly repeating patterns played on harpsichord and guitar within an environment of sustained tones. Dupleix performs on a French double manual harpsichord (tuned to a just intonation scheme of his own devising) and Prophet synthesizer, joined by Juliette Adam (bass clarinet), Johanna Bartz (traverso flute), Cyprien Busolini (viola), Fredrik Rasten (6- and 12-string guitars), and Mara Winter (traverso flute). The harpsichord begins Resonant Tree I alone, slowly sounding out a series of arpeggiated chords that emphasise the unique (and for unaccustomed listeners, sometimes unsettling) harmonic and timbral qualities of justly tuned intervals. Long tones from synthesiser, bass clarinet, viola and Baroque traverso flutes slowly creep into the spaces between the arpeggiated chords, joined after several minutes by delicate patterns of harmonics played by Rasten on acoustic guitars.

On Resonant Tree II, a similar structure and ensemble (without the flutes) are used with quite different results. We again hear only the harpsichord at first, but this time playing a series of flowing melodic lines, each of which is repeated several times. Joined again by long tones from the ensemble, here the viola is particularly prominent and its interplay with the harpsichord creates fascinating acoustic effects. In both pieces, repetition gives the music a static, stable quality while, at the same time, the exact shape of the repeating patterns remains difficult to grasp. As Dupleix writes, these pieces dream of music as ‘space and a sound that one could grasp in one’s hand.’ As the near-static quality of the repetitions and long tones with little incident make these two stretches of musical time feel like spaces for the listener to inhabit, the small variations on a narrow range of related material act like a three-dimensional object whose each facet is examined in turn. At once austere and seductive, Resonant Trees takes its place beside the work of contemporaries like Catherine Lamb, while also calling up the languorous melodic world of Mamoru Fujieda, the dignified melancholy of Satoshi Ashikawa’s classic Still Way and the espaliered chamber atmospherics of the Obscure catalogue.

In January 2019, at the invitation of fiddler Hans Kjorstad, Alasdair
Roberts travelled from his home in Glasgow, Scotland to Oslo,
Norway, where the two men convened with five additional
Scandinavian musicians at Riksscenen, Oslo’s centre for
Norwegian traditional arts and music. Thus newly-formed, the
group worked on arrangements of songs - self-written and
traditional - from Alasdair’s back catalogue, in preparation for
performances at Riksscenen as well as at ALICE in Copenhagen,
Denmark and the bucolic western Danish island of Fanø. The
group was named Völvur (The Seeresses), a reference to the
ancient Icelandic apocalyptic text Völuspa (The Prophecy of the
Seeress).
In January 2020, Völvur visited England and Scotland, to perform
with Alasdair Roberts at Cecil Sharp House, London and at
Platform, Glasgow, the latter as part of Celtic Connections festival.
The group had new material - freshly written songs by Alasdair
and several traditional Norwegian songs sung by Marthe Lea - and
over a couple days at Sam and Rachel’s Studio in Hackney, laid
down the music which now flows forth as ‘The Old Fabled River’.
The musicians who make up Völvur - Marthe Lea, saxophone,
clarinet and voice, Fredrik Rasten, guitars and voice, Andreas
Hoem Røysum, clarinet, Egil Kalman, bass and electronics, Jan
Martin Gismervik, drums, percussion and the aforementioned
initiator of the project, Hans Kjorstad on fiddle - are a busy and
artistically inquisitive group, involved in a diverse range of projects
with a wide variety of musical interests, from folk and jazz to free
music, modular synthesis, microtonality and beyond. They make
an ideal pairing for such voyages in the alchemical world as
Alasdair pursues in his own music.
On ‘The Old Fabled River’, Alasdair Roberts og Völvur meld their
worlds: fiddle and vocal styles formed in the Norwegian valleys
blending now with exploratory clarinet, saxophone and metallic
bowed guitar drones, now fashioned into baroque folk
arrangements. In one case, instrumental accompaniment is laid
aside, as three voices locate a questing fullness harmonizing
together.