Humor and heartbreak are two sides of the same coin; both invoke the absurdity of being alive. At least, that’s what Kulør 006 has me feeling. The second compilation on Danish DJ and creative director Courtesy’s label Kulør, it showcases the work of local producers and musicians from her hometown, Copenhagen. The first, Kulør 001, was a snapshot of the city’s “fast techno” scene, which has more in common with trance motifs and rave aesthetics than it does Berlin’s minimal take on the Detroit sound. Courtesy used to co-run another label, Ectotherm, that centered on this particular facet of Copenhagen dance music, but it wound down in 2018. She started Kulør the same year with the intention of exploring a wider sonic palette, which is where Kulør 006 steps in. Kulør, she explained in an interview, is “like a living organism that can grow and morph into things that I can’t even imagine now.”
If that description could peel itself off this page and make a home inside your ears, it might sound a lot like Minais B’s delightfully eccentric “To Levende Væsener” (or in translation, “Two Living Beings”). Seesawing synthesized strings make way for a chorus of digital mouth sounds that land somewhere between the croak of a frog and the yap of a small dog. While sonically distinct, they tickle the senses in a not dissimilar way to a particularly squelchy acid line. Purists like to paint electronic music as a wholly serious endeavor, but wise practitioners know that a spot of ludicrousness can light up a dance floor like nothing else.
The sense of humor that Varnrable wields on “Cold Bright Hard Light” is dry to the point of brittle, but just as effective. Filtering post-punk energy through sharp synths, the artist narrates a desire to escape to the countryside, anticipating a cold welcome, before deadpanning the quintessential millennial stance: “Thank god for good Wi-Fi connection, right?”
Laughter’s the best medicine, they say, but tears also clear a path for healing. Interestingly, the only two artists on Kulør 006 who also appeared on the hedonistic first compilation—Schacke and IBON—are also the ones who dig deepest into the comedown zone. Schacke spells it out with “The End of Ecstasy,” a subdued looping melody that feels in conversation with “Smokebelch II (Beatless Mix)” by Sabres of Paradise, an association I’m perhaps more sensitive to given Andrew Weatherall’s recent passing. Where “Smokebelch II” is tinged with joy, “The End of Ecstasy” has a curled-up and contemplative energy, characterized instead by burnt textures and feelings alike. IBON’s contribution, a watercolor synth track called “Sorgpad,” also exists in the lonely hours that stretch out between the last record of the night and the relief of a new day. Eschewing melody, IBON uses incremental shifts in tone and timbre to tell a story that seasoned ravers will recognize.
There’s plenty more for curious ears to explore, and it is nothing if not surprising. On the vinyl version, the A-side has a scrapbook pop moment with Sofie Birch’s “Look,” which recalls the sweetly scruffy production of London in the early 2010s (think early Sampha, Micachu, and Kwes), and a slice of polyrhythmic heaven in Astrid Sonne’s “Swirl,” which performs an endless build without losing traction. Over on side B, “Never Rest” by Lyra Valenza traverses ambient, industrial, and trance territories, while “Dares Soar” by X & Yde combines spoken word, slabs of bass, and squiggly sax. And that’s not even everything! Kulør 006 is a thrilling peek inside the multidimensional mindspace of this network of Copenhagen artists that counts Courtesy at its heart.
