Thoughts on value
What is the value of recorded music in times like this? Wars, crises, rising inequality and the looming apocalypse hovering over the days like dark shadows. No-one can ignore them, even from a soundproof studio with the view of a forest. What then, am I doing with my time and energy? On a rainy day I can feel like all I do is facilitating the creation of entertainment for people to listen to while the world goes to shit.
I’m not a doomscroller by any stretch of the imagination, but during one of our recent not-to-be-named crises, I started listening to Accidental Gods, a podcast by one of my favourite writers, Manda Scott. From the belief that another world is still possible, Scott reinvented her career as a longtime novelist and shamanic teacher. With Accidental Gods, she is giving voice to those at the leading edge of change so that we can all learn new ways to be, to live, to create community and to co-create world where people and planet flourish and we live as integral threads in the web of life. Last year she published a “thrutopian” (yes you will want to look that up) novel that displays what the future could look like - and now she’s inspiring other writers to consider the same.
Inger Johanne Tromborg Syverud preparing for a ritual in Norway
Looking at my own profession, I wasn’t sure there was any way I could change it to align with any world-bettering values. It made me feel bad. Maybe recorded music was part of the problem. There is something to say about what happens to the value of an artwork once you start reproducing it, once you multiply it. Imagine a time in which the only way to see the Mona Lisa, was to actually go to France and see it in its original beauty. Now we can conjure a high-resolution image of it up from our computers or phones. Okay - seeing the real thing is still something else, and the huge amount people that travel to go see it is a testament to that. But you’ve got to admit: there is a magic in something that can only be experienced once - or is exclusive, limited. The fact that we can play almost every piece of music anytime we want, wherever we are, makes listening to it less special. There were times that people could only hear music if a troubadour visited their village. This was such a happening, that they had enough attention and excitement to listen to all 32 verses of a song.
So then - what is the value of recorded music? Do I want to be part of an “entertainment” business? Perhaps it is my thirty-something-crisis… but I wanted to change something. That much I was sure of. Ever since I have been looking for value. For stories that need to be told. And for a way that I can be of service to them. This has resulted in experiments with recording in special locations and moments in time, meeting and working with people who use music as a part of their spiritual practice, and starting to apply my findings in projects with artists that have got those much needed stories to tell.
I feel like I am treating the music production process similar to an alchemist… blending and bending ingredients that I find, by reimagining what we think the music production process should be like. I am turning those elements into something that strengthens the message in the music. Merging together all that I know from my experience in music and in the occult. It’s only the beginning for I keep meeting new people and new ideas. I have found the value in my profession, and have found how I can use it to contribute in (to me) meaningful ways. There are many things in the pipeline and even though 2025 hasn’t seen much music releases, it’s been very productive under the surface.
