Majesty

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Music, often revered for its grandeur, is notoriously difficult to describe or define.

We frequently speak of its raw power, its ability to move and comfort us, and its capacity to envelop us in its intrinsic beauty. But what about the act of creating and performing music, allowing its majesty to reveal itself through intuitive expression?

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The opening track of this album seeks to capture spontaneous, in-the-moment emotions through meditative improvisation. It features cascading felt piano loops and evolving themes, interwoven with layers of strings, electronics, and harp.

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The initial piano sections were recorded solo on a tranquil, sunny, late winter morning, as I gazed out at my frost-covered lawn. These early sketches were then shared with violinist Sebastian Gruchot, who contributed delicate, thoughtful string arrangements. A few weeks later, I brought the composition to harp virtuoso Remy Van Kesteren, eager to see how his interpretations could enhance the piece.

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The harp, often the shimmering centerpiece of the orchestra, shines under Remy’s expert touch, highlighting its mythical and timeless qualities. We enjoyed a magical recording session in his garden studio in Amsterdam, with the sounds of spring birds and the city's ambiance adding an extra layer of charm to his performance.

 

Back in Norway, Even Sarucco assisted in balancing the elements, incorporating electronic nuances that culminated in... "Majesty," nothing more, nothing less.

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Eventide

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In my ongoing quest for calm amid the daily stresses, I often drift into a daydream-like state, searching for answers to my questions - only to find myself questioning those answers in turn. "Eventide" is essentially a musical soliloquy, mirroring the ebb and flow of a typical thought process through piano improvisation, exploring and perhaps resolving these inner themes.

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Inspired by the haunting, zen-like piano style of Meredith Monk, I recorded a live piano take, followed by a live overdub to create a dialogue between the two voices.

I imagined myself in a vast, imaginary warehouse in a big city, layering in field recordings from the sea in southern Norway to evoke a sense of place.

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To enhance the composition, I incorporated treated cello samples by Nemanja Markovic from an old TV drama film score I composed years ago. Additional production assistance came from Markus Eldevik, a young film composer I have mentored over the past year, who added further electronic processing.

 

To finalize the mix, Even Sarucco skillfully balanced the gentle pianos and wistful soundscape in his small studio, located in a decommissioned military barrack in Kristiansand.

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Aeternum

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Years ago, when I first met my future wife and muse, Anne Marie Almedal, I vividly remember overhearing her spend days crafting a piece of music titled "Not Now" in her nearby studio. Although the song was never completed, fragments of her melody and lyrics lingered in my memory: "Not now where it’s quiet, and the houses are small and few, and we’re the only few out walking."

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Fast forward 25 years, Anne Marie wandered into our home studio, hearing me play a faint recollection of her old song's melody on the piano. She suggested we revisit the piece together, blending her ethereal, wordless vocals with my reimagined piano themes.

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"Aeternum" is a tribute to endless stillness and the quest for serenity in a world overwhelmed by noise. It evokes the hope of rediscovering peace by escaping the chaos of the metropolis and embracing the distant breeze.

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Remy Van Kesteren once again contributed his harp in a session in Amsterdam, while all other instruments and vocals were recorded at home by the two of us, against a serene winter backdrop.

 

En Prière

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As a boy soprano, I often sang Fauré’s "En Prière," the exquisite musical setting of Stéphan Bordèse’s poem. At the time, singing in a foreign language, I was likely too young to fully comprehend the profound longing expressed in the text. However, as we mature, the concepts of prayer and humility begin to resonate more deeply. My own "En Prière" represents a personal journey toward understanding humility and embracing vulnerability as an adult.

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This piano-driven piece carries a gentle, steady pulse of longing and determination, intentionally crafted to allow Remy Van Kesteren's harp to weave seamlessly with the piano's inner harmonics. During the recording session, I recall listening through headphones, amazed by how effortlessly Remy found space within the piano's rich tonal landscape to add his beautiful notes—not in conflict, but perfectly complementing the harmonics. A personal prayer for today and tomorrow.

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We Are All Islands

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Coming to terms with trauma and exploring our neurological responses to daily stress inspired the creation of "We Are All Islands." This piece serves as a musical homage to the safety found in disconnection and the blank stare of hypoarousal as we strive to cope and survive.

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The phrase "We are all islands," borrowed from Kipling's The Light That Failed, stands as a powerful slogan of individuality. It reflects the idea that we are each unique, solitary, and distinct, like islands scattered across a vast sea. This concept resonates with me as I contemplate my relationships with others, recalling how, as a premature baby, I spent the first months of my life in an incubator, isolated from the world.

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"We Are All Islands" is an improvised piano piece that delves into these memories, allowing the music to unfold naturally, recording both the process and the experience of becoming less aware of internal and external influences. Additional electronic elements and samples were later incorporated to represent the outside world, like subtle connections reaching out to the isolated piano.

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Wayfarer

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"Wayfarer" was the first piece composed for this collection. It emerged shortly after my return from meetings with my publishers at Universal Music in Amsterdam, where I was introduced to the music of Remy Van Kesteren.

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As an introverted pianist, I was not particularly familiar with the harp. However, Remy’s post-classical approach and the sensitivity of his playing immediately resonated with me. We discussed our similar creative processes, the challenging frequencies of piano and harp, and the potential for creating pieces that would allow both instruments to coexist, offering each other space and depth.

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As a restless soul, my life has been a series of journeys—from London to Oslo, and then to Kristiansand. As a musician, the concept of traveling is both literal and spiritual. The recording of "Wayfarer" itself was a journey: driving from southern Norway, taking a ferry to Denmark, navigating the autobahns of Germany to Amsterdam, and then returning home to complete the mix (almost forgetting my passport and laptop along the way).

 

Reminiscence

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Memories. Like movie clips, fragmented words, echoes, and shadows appearing in the light during moments of quiet reflection.

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I often find myself scrolling through personal memories, seeking comfort in the past—a safe haven that shields me from the uncertainties of the future.

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Minimalist, impressionistic piano music has long been a source of solace for me, both as a listener and a composer. I owe much to the trailblazers and pioneers like Debussy, Scriabin, Harold Budd, and more recently, Max Richter.

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"Reminiscence" was recorded at home, in solitude. It was just me and my trusted piano, microphones, pre-amp, the analog warmth of my mother’s old reel-to-reel tape recorder, and layers of reverb.

The soundscape was further enriched through electronic processing by Even Sarucco, with treated cello samples adding a warm texture to the piece’s introspective solitude.

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Memories are best savoured alone but are equally beautiful when shared.

 

Into The Woods We Go

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Claustrophobia, creeping anxieties, and the endless hours wasted on polarizing click-bait news and (anti-)social media. What’s the remedy when it feels almost impossible to breathe? Stop. Put on your walking shoes, your worn-out Barbour, and step outside. The way out is always the way forward.

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Living near the forest and sea in Kristiansand, I am fortunate to escape into nature as often as possible—whether in rain, sunshine, snow, darkness, or dawn. Walking, listening to birdsong, feeling the breeze, and letting nature’s gentle rhythm quiet my busy mind is a powerful balm.

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"Into The Woods We Go" embodies that voice inside urging you to break free—a call to stop what you’re doing, release your thoughts, and just be. After one such walk through my local forest, I returned home, sat at the piano, and pressed record. Later, I added electronic elements, field recordings, and additional processing to give the piano track a more expansive, “outdoor” feel. Are these the sounds we fight against, or the sounds that inspire us?

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Neverwhere

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Not nowhere, not elsewhere, not evermore.

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"Neverwhere" is a portmanteau representing my ongoing artistic quest to find a mental refuge—a place to retreat from the chaos, embraced by the warmth and freedom of music.

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Since childhood, I was captivated by watching my mother play the piano, mesmerized by the long decay of the pedals, the resonant strings, and the lingering notes between melodies. The piano has always been my sanctuary, the starting point for most of my film score work, created here, in the "neverwhere."

 

Pacem

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For those of us born in 1970s Britain, stories of World War II were a part of our upbringing, shared by parents and grandparents. We witnessed regular "CND" demonstrations at Greenham Common, lived under the looming shadow of the Cold War, and were frequently exposed to ominous nuclear war information films.

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As the hedonistic generation of 1990s ravers, we later faced the backdrop of the Gulf War, followed by the dawn of a new millennium marked by the rise of terrorism and the events of 9/11. Now, in a post-Covid world, we find ourselves in increasingly polarized times, with the spectre of war and conflict ever-present.

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The track "Pacem" nearly didn’t come to be. After recording the initial improvised piano themes, my computer crashed, leaving no opportunity to edit or refine the audio. Thankfully, I was able to salvage and export the raw files.

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In revisiting the first recording session, I invited Anne Marie Almedal to contribute her ethereal vocal layers. As a singer recovering from the traumatic aftermath of cancer treatment (often disturbingly referred to as "the battle against cancer"), her vocals brought a sense of catharsis, reflecting our shared experiences and offering a promise of love and healing.

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"Pacem" is a response to it all—a yearning for peace and the triumph of good over evil, whatever form that may take.

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