Arve Henriksen
Chiaroscuro

First of all, it's a matter of light. The kind that is missing in the Nordic countries. For a good part of the year. There are days, up there, lit for only two or three hours. And there are many of them. This is why the houses are full of windows. Stockholm, Helsinki, Oslo. The capitals of windows. And behind one of these, you find Arve Henriksen and his trumpet. Blowing and fingering in search of a sound. Muted. Filtered. Of vibrations that invoke light. Of palettes in cool tones. Of an “Opening Image” that outlines an absent dawn. Of a falsetto voice. That dazzles and embarrasses like the appearance of a mermaid in the city. Of a second image that leaves one in a state of ecstasy. "Bird’s-Eye-View". Percussive carpets that sound like Talving Singh's tablas. Keyboards with an oriental breath. A trumpet that rises sinister and mysterious. In sublime progression until merging in the finale with the clangor of urban traffic. The following images are atmospheric watercolors. In chiaroscuro. They are tremulous flickers of candles hanging on the windowsills. They are a “Holography”. Where the impressions of human voice and trumpet voice reflect a fragile desire for depth. Where between disturbing dreams and caresses, one arrives at the “Ending Image”. That dispenses a lethargic calm and turns off the lights of this gallery. Cool'n'Cold, you could say.

A daunting task to describe a sound. After Gil Evans. After Chet Baker. After the era of Miles Davis. A task achieved by this Norwegian talent. Eclectic and curious. Of instruments and oriental fascinations. Of countless collaborations. From Motorspycho to the acclaimed “snow borne sorrow” signed by Nine Horses. Of pseudonyms and integral parts in bands like Supersilent. Difficult to define this solo project. There are many labels. For what it's worth, I'll add another. Nordic Zen-jazz. With therapeutic effects on mind and spirit. With remarkable capacities to widen a beam of sound light. Towards the North. Towards Scandinavia. And to paraphrase a proverb from those places: “the world is a book and those who stay at home only read one page.”

But if the pages (the albums) are like this, it's nice to keep reading.