A little research on Denmark’s Anders Trentemøller—who in his professional life as an electronic musician goes by his last name alone (which, if I am reading my IPA symbols correctly, rhymes more or less with that of Buckminster Fuller) —shows that the mavens of European dance music have been showering this man with awards for many years.  I will confess that I had never heard of Trentemøller, let alone of Denmark, before I listened to his new Live in Concert EP for review; I ought to admit, also, that I don’t consider myself an expert on electronic music.

I rely, therefore, on the opinion of the experts at Beatport, whose 2008 inaugural Beatport Music Awards named Trentemøller both Best Electronica Artist and Best Chill Out Artist.  I can’t comment on the first award, since it was given by people who, unlike me, could distinguish Electronica, Breakbeast, Deep House, Hard Dance, and more, confidently enough to pronounce the Best Artist in each category; but I do know a good Chill Out Artist when I hear one.  I certify that this record accomplished such in aces.

Of many music producers I have said that they “craft” or “build” sounds; Trentemøller, I want to say, weaves them, like blankets of silk.  Soothing textures—hums of synth, washes of strings—are the peaceful foundation of his pieces.  Sometimes he lifts a corner of the blanket and reveals a rhythm bouncing underneath; he covers it up again before he lifts another corner.  The epic “Take Me Into Your Skin” sweeps through half a dozen such movements, always pausing between rushes of the beat.  (If there’s a reason the music is so relaxing, it might be this tidal or respiratory structure.  It flows in and out; it breathes.)

There’s a good reason to listen to this music.  But is there a reason to listen to other people listening to this music?  The major part of Live in Concert comprises four tracks from Trentemøller’s set at the 2007 Roskilde Music Festival in Roskilde, Denmark.  Roskilde is one of the largest music festivals in Europe, and the 2007 edition was the wettest in its history.  So the sound I heard on top of Trentemøller’s music was the sound of the home crowd—seventy to a hundred thousand Danes—dancing themselves crazy in mud up to their knees.

Who knows how many Danish children were conceived in that mud?  That must have been some chill.  I felt a little left out.  And I almost wanted the clapping and shouting to stop, as though the fragility and intimacy of the music couldn’t survive the applause.

Bill Porter