An extraordinary collaboration from Ellen Arkbro and Johan Graden.
Ellen Arkbro & Johan Graden embody the limitless curiosity and fearless innovation of the Swedish and Berlin new music scenes they inhabit. Arkbro is a composer and musician whose work has been presented around the globe at prestigious institutions such as the Barbican in London, GRM in Paris and the Kölner Philharmonie in Köln, and has studied under legendary minimalists such as La Monte Young, Marian Zazeela, and Jung Hee Choi. Graden is one of Sweden's most sought-after pianists, moving freely between classical music and the European contemporary jazz scene. Currently living in Amman Jordan, he is an active member of the Jordanian experimental pop scene. I get along without you very well is a daring statement from two of the most progressive voices in contemporary music. In allowing themselves to be at their most vulnerable - with each other, their collaborators and with listeners - they have created some of their most powerful work to date. Following their collaboration on the acclaimed For Organ and Brass released on Subtext, new album I get along without you very well expands on the duo's intoxicating exploration of meditative, spiritual sonics in unexpected ways. It is a beautiful meeting of two friends and inventive musical minds, resulting in the most affecting and surprising of pop albums. From its opening notes, I get along without you very well delights in subtle tensions and contradictions. While no song lasts more than a few minutes, the album feels distinctly unhurried, its atmospheric textures and sparse rhythms seemingly distorting the flow of time. The duo's arrangements conceal an incredible amount of compositional detail paired with a distinctive sonic pallet, of brass, woodwinds, upright bass and synthesizer. Timbres in a similar register create an incredible depth of sound while paradoxically giving the impression of sparseness with individual instruments blending with one another seamlessly. Arkbro's ephemeral vocals, entirely absent from her solo works, provide a perfect counterpoint to the album's rumbling low-end, magnifying the intimacy and vulnerability of the music. On the opening track, described by Arkbro as "the most naked song on the record", the composer's breathy vocals curl in ribbons around murky brass, as delicate blue vapors evaporate, underpinned by featherlight percussion.