inga copeland

Continuing a string of inspired bookings, Alice has brought Lolina–the latest moniker of London-based producer Inga Copeland– to Copenhagen a week after the release of her latest album, The Smoke. Both Copeland’s solo work and her collaborations with Dean Blunt are laced with a confrontational humour, and her latest effort is no exception.

But before we are plunged into the murky depths of Lolina, we spend some time with local producer Astrid Sonne. Accompanied by visuals of an abandoned waterpark somewhere in southern Europe, Sonne’s music mixes abstract electronics–always just on the verge of breaking into dance–with lush romanic stretches of viola playing. There is a curiosity to this, a mix of the cerebral and intuitive, that keeps you glued to the music and the screen.

When Copeland walk on stage in a trilby and pinstripe jacket, it is an indication of the jazz-teasing nightmares she is about to conjure up. The album and set opener, “Roulette”, features two atonally juxtaposed piano arpeggios that fly up and down the scale against each other until they are broken up by the mechanised blues of a bass and organ. “Whatever you’ve got lets light it / Whatever’s in my pocket lets spend it / If nothing left then fuck it…” she chants, as if to herself.

Copeland has a real sense for the uncanny, the way her bass lines lurch rather than groove, her drum sounds calculated to distress. This sounds like criticism but there is real artistry to it. Her only instruments are three digital turntables, a microphone and an effects unit, but she wields these with a light precision that belies the calculated broken quality of her music. Towards the second half of her set it seems she can’t help herself but throw in some of the grime that always lurks just beneath the surface of her work. And a filthy bassline is always welcome.