1: Introduction
7: Interlude
9: Epilogue
10: References
Concept and Motivation
My main goal in this concert was to explore the sonic possibilities in my guitar playing. In addition to this, I also wanted to explore visual elements. I was intrigued by this after working with the composer Dag Egil Njaaa[1], on a project which involved the use of video.
This concert involved 10 musicians, consisting of improvisors, noise musicians, classical musicians, and electronic artists.
The structure of the concert was as follows:
1 Intro Video showing the opening of a TV tower in Oslo (Tryvannstårnet) in 1962.
2 Duo with me and Sindre Bjerga (noise/collage-musician)
3 Duo with me and John Derek Bishop (Electronic Musician/resampling)
4 Me and the Broken Guitar, turns into a duo with me and Pål Asle Pettersen (Ableton/extended instruments)
5 Me and the guitarensemble. Playing a graphic score by me (Ensemble is placed on the gallery, while I'm on stage)
6 Duo with me and Dag Egil Njaa, using the Streamlined Patch in MAX.
7 End piece involving all the musicians except Dag Egil Njaa.
In this chapter, I will focus on the section of the work called Streamlined, as well as the introduction of the Broken Guitar, to show how this project was an important steppingstone to what later became my final artistic results.
Preparations, multimedia elements: Streamlined.
The first lockdown due to Covid 19 in Norway in March 2020 sent me and my guitar rig straight from a tour to my basement living room. I was one year into my PhD period. A huge part of my project was playing with other people. The lockdown made this impossible. So, there I was, trying to figure out ways to work with my project without the possibility of being in the same room as the people I was supposed to play with. Deprived of the share physical space, I had to turn to the digital room just like everybody else in the world.
My first encounter with playing live with other musicians over the internet was on the platform Zoom. The initiator, Robert Burke (Saxophonist, Australia) had come up with a set of strategies for us to manage the situation, but the unstable nature of the earliest versions of a Zoom call, poor audio quality combined with the delay in sound, made the whole experience a rather poor one. Things did not look promising for my work. Eventually, working Dag Egil Njaa we realized that if we were to be able to do any work during this period, we had to come up with something better than Zoom, Skype or Teams. The solution was creating a patch in the visual programming language for music and multimedia, Max. The patch was named Streamlined, and it made it possible for us to connect directly to each other’s computers over the internet. All you needed was a modem, a sound card, and a computer. We spent hours testing it, tweaking it, and making it as good as possible. He was sitting in his living room in Oslo, and I was sitting in my basement in Stavanger. The process shifted between being joyful work to being a depressing reminder of the situation we were in. At least it gave us something to do, some kind of feeling that we still were creating music and art, and that what we did still mattered. We had a purpose.
As the first wave of Covid 19 started to deescalate in Norway, I was able to put on a concert in Stavanger. There were still a lot of restrictions, so Dag Egil and I decided to put Streamlined to the test. During the concert, we would play a section lasting 15 minutes together, but he would still be in his living room in Oslo, while I was on stage in Stavanger. As a guitarist, I’ve always been reluctant to bring a computer with me on stage. Even though I use a lot of digital (as well as analogue) technology, this is manifested in small stomp boxes on the floor and have been “road tested” by me over the years. They are an integrated part of my instrument, and I take great pride in finding the right pedals for the job. Bringing a computer on stage breaks with the guitar chain, and as soon as you bring it on stage, you can pretty much do everything when it comes to advanced effects, sampling, playbacks etc, but for me, it somehow makes it less magical. If I play my Gibson Goldtop through a program like Ableton on my Mac, I know I have almost endless possibilities of sound processing. To me, a lot of the joy of using effects on my guitar is in finding effect pedals with a certain signature, and then getting to know this effect to the point that it is a part of my guitar. I’m not saying that it is impossible to obtain the same relationship with an effect on a computer (Norwegian guitarist Eivind Aarseth is a master on this), but to me it’s more intuitive to use guitar pedals. Yet, since I was connected to the modem at the venue with a 20-meter long ethernet cable, and the only way to make this piece work meant that I had to be able to stare at the screen, I didn’t really have a choice.
One of the things I wanted to test was if the idea of Streamlined was something we should further develop and pursue. What was it like to play with another person who wasn’t present on stage? Being in the early stages of a global pandemic, who knew when we could go back to a normal concert situation?
Intercorporality
I use the term Intercorporality to describe my relationship to the other musicians. It is a way to describe the type of communication we share while we are in a playing situation together. This communication involves gestures, being aware of someone’s breathing, posture, body language, the different sounds and timbre from their instrument etc.
The piece we were playing was for electric guitar and Computer (MAX). If we were to share a stage, that would mean that Dag Egil would probably look at his screen quite a lot, but it would be easy to have eye contact and other visual gestures that would help us navigate in the piece. It would also give us a sense of unity and we could feed on each other’s energy. Since this was not possible at the time, I still wanted a physical manifestation of the person I was playing with. After all, I would be present physically on stage, and I wanted the audience to know that I was not playing all by myself. We came up with the idea of using video projected behind me on stage. My initial idea was to have a camera in Dag Egils living room, streaming him while he was playing. This idea was ditched when I realized that the visual image of a person sitting in a comfy chair at home in front of a computer was not what people were longing for in 2020. Instead, I decided to use video of a guitar, hands and different objects being used on the guitar (inspired by The Broken Guitar). We used filters and a granulating effect on the video (a short loop which gives the sensation of a glitch) to make it look as if it came from another reality.
It was necessary to create a few strategies for this to work. We had to make sure we had a connection before we started playing, so we had a chat open on the computer where we had a set of codes and tests we would perform before we started playing. This section was supposed to come right after a section with me playing with a guitar ensemble (which I had placed on the gallery across the room from the stage I was sitting on). So, this meant that I had to multitask quite a bit. It also meant that I would sit with my guitar, playing it, while writing and performing tests on my computer. All this while the audience was looking at me, probably wondering if I was checking my emails at the same time.
Human and machine, guitar improvisation.
"The piece explores different interactions between musicians and algorithm-controlled systems. In this case, the computer had at its disposal a corpus of audio recordings of Vidar playing various material as well as a video without audio by Dag Egil. The interaction algorithm tried to make choices about which clips from the audio bank could work with Vidar at the same time as it tried to synchronize video to this. A very limited training material was used as a model - only one recording of an exercise where Dag Egil (with corpus and video) improvised with Vidar. In the middle part we let the film roll and the computer synchronized audio to the film. »[2]
During the whole performance of this piece, I was staring at my computer and the Streamlined Patch we used. The fact that I was playing with an algorithm-controlled system was not something I reflected on during the performance. Dag Egil told me later that he switched between controlling it himself, and let the algorithm control it.Honestly I could not tell the difference.
Findings: Streamlined
Due to the rather boring visual aspect of me playing together with a computer on stage (seated, staring at my computer screen), I brought a multimedia element into the concert, which led to a breakthrough in my artistic project. The Streamlined project led to the idea of using videos in The Mechanical Forest. I will go further into this process in the next chapter -The Mechanical Forest 1.
Preparation, Broken Guitar.
The other section of this concert I want to focus on in this chapter is the Broken Guitar. This was the first time I used it, and it was the first of my extended guitars. The evolution of this guitar follows my whole research project, and the final version of it is used in my final artistic presentation, the Mechanical Forest 3-concert.
When I was 14, I bought my first electric guitar. It was a copy of a Fender Stratocaster made by the Japanese company Hondo. It was cheap and quite horrible to play. The pickups were of such poor quality that they created the worst feedback you can possibly imagine. Although feedback is a very important part of my guitar playing, there is a difference between a nice and warm feedback and the ear shattering, high pitch, utterly horrible feedback coming from the Hondo. There was nothing about the way the guitar looked that would indicate that it was almost impossible to play. It looked like a proper Fender Stratocaster, just like the one my hero at the time, David Gilmour from Pink Floyd1used. However, the materiality of the instrument forced me to play it a certain way2. The Hondo was all I could afford, and I managed to use it when rehearsing with my band.
During my years of playing, I’ve owned a whole bunch of different guitars. Some of them have been sold to finance new guitars while others remained in my collection. I never sold the Hondo. I have some kind of connection with it. After all, it was my first guitar. I had never played it live until I used it on The E(c)lect(r)ic Guitar-concert. It has evolved as the project evolved, and it has become more important than I had ever anticipated. In some ways, it can be seen as a physical manifestation of my whole project.
In the paper The Electric Guitar: An Augmented Instrument and a Tool for Musical Composition, the authors talk about the Electric Guitar being considered as an augmented instrument, defined as a network of sound production and processing units, spatially extended and configurable by the player according to the desired sonic results. (Lähdeoja. O, Navarret B Quintas S. and Sedes A. 2010)
This text inspired me to think about my guitar in a different way. The guitar is constantly being rebuilt and repurposed. Just by adding another effect pedal, or changing the amplifier, the instrument changes. It also sparked the idea of trying to create the Broken Guitar. It made me curious to see if it was possible to change my old Hondo guitar into a musical instrument I could actually perform with.
The electric guitar is an ever changing and evolving instrument. I can add effect pedals, change my setup, I can rebuild and repurpose an instrument like The Broken Guitar. YouTube is full of channels with people testing and reviewing new guitar equipment. It seems like the electric guitarist always want to add something new to their instrument. The search for new sounds and possibilities is part of being an electric guitarist, be it as a professional or an amateur.
One of the things I have always loved about the guitar, is this connection to technology and innovation. My normal rig combines amps with vacuum tubes based on technology from the early 20th century, pedals using transistors and technology from 1970-80s combined with the latest digital technology. At the beginning of this whole chain of technology that spans over a hundred years, is my guitar; a Gibson Goldtop (Custom) replica of the version they made in 1958.
In addition to practice the old scales and more conventional playing, I have also spent hours on just knocking, banging, scratching, and screaming into the pickups of my guitar, so that I know exactly where to knock, bang, scratch or scream to produce a specific sound. It was from this activity that the idea of The Broken Guitar came. How could I further develop these qualities of the instrument?
I needed a guitar that I could experiment on without being afraid of ruining. Even though my Goldtop is a cheap instrument compared to those of an orchestral musician, it is my most cherished possession. How my Hondo has survived all these years is beyond me. I have lived so many places, and I never brought it with me. I’m not even sure where I found it again and even when. Every now and then I would discover it in a basement or a loft, before losing track of it for a while. All I know is that one day in 2020 I opened a guitar case in my studio, and there it was. The microphones were dead, which was probably a good thing. The bottom part of the guitar was covered in duct tape.
To get rid of the tape, I decided to pay homage to Jimi Hendrix:2 I had to burn the guitar. But this was in the spring of 2020, there were no way I was able to do on stage, so I ended up in the parking lot outside our house using my gas burner intended for making Crème Brulé to burn away the tape. In other words, it was pretty much as far away from Jimi Hendrix ( “those times i burned my guitar it was like a sacrifice. we all burn things we love. I love my guitar.") you could possibly get. Pete Townsend (The Who) destroyed his guitar after each set, Hendrix burnt his as a part of his set, and I burn mine in a very controlled manner to get rid of some sticky tape.
This guitar is broken, and the way I play it has some almost ritualistic qualities about it. When Townsend and Hendrix destroy their guitars on stage (or Jerry Lee Lewis set fire to his piano), it can be both an expression of pushing the instrument and themselves to the very limit, in fact beyond the limit, until the instrument is destroyed, as well as being a rebellion against musical conventions and the musical value systems.
But where did this come from? Was it just a display of masculine energy being too much for the poor instruments to handle and that the big and strong man won? Apparently, the first time Townsend smashed a guitar, it was by accident. In his autobiography Who I am: A Memoir (2012, HarperCollings), he talks about being inspired by the works of Gustav Metzger. Metzger was the pioneer of Auto Destructive Art (Townsend was a student at Ealing College of Art where he attended classes given by Metzger). The act of destroying a guitar on stage could maybe be seen as a Self-destructive painting (Metzger used acid to paint on nylon in his early works); the guitar was never supposed to survive the concert.
The idea of Self-Destructive art is something that I resonate with in music. In free improvisation, we often try to push the music to the tipping point. When it all falls apart, the original idea is unrecognizable, and the music is destroyed…something new will grow. Out of failure and destruction, we can build something new.
For me, all this is represented by my Broken Guitar. It was my first guitar; it was never intended to be a great instrument. Meaning that this instrument was not suited to be used the way I wanted to use it. It was created as a beginner’s guitar, not a guitar made for using on stage. The manufacturers had made an instrument that looked like a working guitar, but due to its poor quality of microphones and electrical wiring, poor quality of tuners as well as soft frets, it was a frustrating experience to play it.
I had to break it further down to make it into something musical. Instead of fighting it, forcing it to fit in my idea of how this guitar was supposed to behave, I emphasized its weaknesses. I made it scream louder. I made it an open canvas, a canvas I can burn, paint with acid, drill holes in, hit with a hammer and cover with dust and dirt. In the end, the guitar itself might be unrecognizable, both in sound and vision.
The Hondo has been upcycled into The Broken Guitar, a new instrument which has become an important part of my artistic practice.
Performance, Broken Guitar.
At the concert, I connected this guitar to my pedal board and amplifier, using an old Boss BX-800 Mixer from the 80s. This version of The Broken Guitar had 4 contact microphones and a few paper clips attached to the strings. The guitar strings were all loosened to the point of not being able to produce a recognizable tonality.
My pedal board consisted of a couple of overdrive pedals, a fuzz, delay pedal, a bass pedal, and a reverb. In addition to these, I added a step sequencer[3] which changed the pitch on each step.
This was the first time I attempted to play a guitar which didn’t act like a conventional guitar. My intention was just for it to be a source of new sounds, and to test out the possibilities in connecting contact microphones on a guitar. I did not consider the way it looked, neither the guitar itself nor the way I had to play it, to be of much importance. When I watched the footage from the concert, I realized that this guitar had a visual quality I could develop further. I also found that by using it with my normal guitar setup, it sounded too similar to my Goldtop guitar. I had to work more on both the sound of it, as well as how I played it visually.
The Broken Guitar added a scenic element to the performance, even though my only initial intention with it was for it to produce a different kind of sound than the ones I could create using my Gibson Goldtop.
Stavanger, Folken. 01.10.20 20:55
Standing in the backstage area, waiting, 5 minutes to showtime. I’ve been waiting like this so many times before, I like it. I’m calm, maybe too calm. I’m usually this calm at this moment. One thing I miss with playing with a big pop act is the feeling of a caged animal about to be let loose, the need to pump up the adrenalin, the whole act…
Now it’s my music. So, I’m calm. Is that normal? It should be the other way around, shouldn’t it? I tell myself that it’s because I’ve done this so many times now, that I know what’s best for me. I was maybe expecting to be a bit nervous today, it's the first concert since the lockdown in March. But it's strange…right now, it feels completely normal, like nothing has happened. But this concert has so much stuff going on…8 other musicians, and the technology….I mean…one of the musicians is sitting home in his living room outside Oslo, only connected through internet and my mac…quite a lot of things can go wrong. Oh well, what’s the worst that can happen? Calm.
21:00
Entering the stage. I love walking out these doors…I love how the stage has somewhat changed since the soundcheck. It’s a different world now, a different room. But it’s my room. My safe space. I sit down. Press the space button on my mac to start the video. It works, phew…
I sit and wait. The first of my fellow musician, a noise musician, is standing idle…waiting for my cue. We start playing. Just making crackling noises, trying to sound like electricity. Is this the best sound? Using my nails to produce the sound I want to, just like I’ve rehearsed. Does it sound a bit different now? It’s the gate in the fuzz pedal, it feels like it triggers a bit to slow, maybe I need more gain? Nah…just stay in the bit. More intensity, faster movements…I wonder if the audience think that it will be like this for the next hour? How long have we stayed in this bit now? I look at my left, Bishop is ready. I give him a short nod, now he can bring in the sub. Is it going to be loud enough? I want the room to shake. There it is. But…I should stand up for the next bit, it’s a bit weird to sit while playing that section…I stand up…wait, this also felt a bit weird. The audience is sitting, why am I standing ok…stay in the bit. Start playing the next section. Damn…not loud enough, more fuzz, more volume. Ok…I know it sounds different through the PA. Trust the sound guy…after all, he’s Bishops brother, and we’ve had 2 days of preproduction. He knows how I want it to sound. I picture the car scene in Lost Highway, and the scene with the slowed down version of «American Woman» in Twin Peaks -The Return. That’s what I wanted. Do I do this too much? Go to Lynch for inspiration? I wonder how many in the audience who have seen my Twin Peaks concerts, I guess this is a bit different. I’m going to sit down again for the next bit. This feels a bit strange. But stay in the bit. Stay. In the bit. That guitar amp sounds great, I love that amp. Wish it was mine. Does it smell burned? Ah no…it’s that bloody smoke machine, 6 months of downtime weren´t good for it. Stay. In. The. Bit. Vidar. I’m calm. Too calm? To calculated?
I sit down. The drums are gone. Into the ambience bit. I love that guitar sound. It’s the amp, you know…that wonderful and old amp. So responsive….and the way I can use feedback on it, wow. I like this. But has it lasted too long? Time to move on? Pål Asle is at his station, so we can move on. I know Bishop will continue playing until I’m ready for the next bit. I must reconnect the cables now. Remember the sequence, don’t mess up the sequence. Ah, I wrote it down…one last check. Ok, got it. I put my Goldtop in the guitar stand…I have to make this look natural. I give the strings over the nut a stroke with my pick and bang a bit on the head…that will be a nice transition to the next section. I connect the cables. Time to play the Hondo. It still smells burned. My Hondo…who would have thought it would ever get to play Folken? The Hondo was my first guitar, I bought it when I was 14. Now it’s all burned up and full of contact microphones. That’s why I’ve named this section «Broken Guitar». I must sit down for this…I mean…sit on the stage floor. I start brushing it…I like this sound, it sounds….not sure…like wood? I know it doesn’t sound this good without all the pedals I use with it. Remember to keep the feedback under control. These microphones do NOT feed in that nice guitar feed-way. I blow on the strings…even that produce a nice sound. I think I like this bit. I’m in this bit. If feels natural. It’s just me and my Hondo, on the floor of the Folken Stage. Nothing wrong with that. I wonder what he’s thinking. The Hondo -I mean. Is he proud that he’s playing Folken, or is he a bit annoyed that I’ve covered him in cables and microphones, and that I just keep stroking, banging, and blowing it? Instead of playing it? I don’t think I ever played this guitar live, the feedback was horrible in it…so I always borrowed a guitar to play live in those days. Mostly my brothers pink Ibanez. Oh dear.
Time to finish this section. I reconnect the Goldtop. Calm. I like being in this bit. Time to prepare for the guitar ensemble. I look up at the Gallery…ok, they’re ready. I move my music stand; this is a graphic score where we use the stop watch on our phones. Oh shit, my phone. It’s in the backstage area. No worries, I’ll just go and get it. Pål Asle is instructed to play until I start the guitar ensemble…I’m covered. Walking off stage, running down the stairs and to the backstage area. Funny thing this, I usually have a rule of never bringing my phone on stage, I think it ruins the magic a bit. Never understood people who bring them on stage, and even post pictures on Instagram while playing. They must have a lot of pauses in their music. I guess. Phone is on the music stand now. I look up, give the signal to the guitarists so we all start the stopwatch at the same time. Here we go. I must concentrate on the score. Does it sound ok? I think so. I’m probably louder than them, but I know it will sound cool for the audience, they are surrounded by guitar now. Shit, I messed up a part…no worries, they didn’t get confused, still in the bit. I love this amp. The A-string is vibrating during this sustained feed, almost feels like I’m using an ebow. I can feel the tickle, this is just how I remembered this amp. 1968…imagine that. Stay in the bit. I’m in the bit. The audience is really quiet. I hope it’s because they are listening and enjoying themselves. Weird Covid-times. I love this stage though. Look at the score. That smoke machine REALLY smells bad. Dying horse now. End of the score. It says dying horse. It sounds too pretty. I need to bring in the diminished 5th thingy…oh, that was a bit to heavy metal…but I can’t stop it now, I must stay in it for a bit. Not sure if this was the right way to go. Hm…. annoying. OK. Build it a bit more. Sustain it. Oscillate the delay, keep my foot on the pedal. I have to manage to do this while I type something on my mac. Dag Egil is in Oslo…and hopefully, sort of in my Mac. Open chat. Type. Hello? He’s there. Good. We’re good. I wasn’t worried. Maybe I should have been. Why don’t I worry more? Dying horse. Dying guitar sounds. I look at the projected video behind me. It works. I type OK to Daggi. We’re off. Follow the timeline. Remember to breathe. There was a pop. It’s ok. We still have a signal. We knew these pops would come. Audience doesn’t know what it is. It’s ok. Breathe. follow the timeline. Painful. This is hard. Sounds good. Feels bad. Just in my fingers and neck. Stay in the bit. Remember to breathe. Louder. Does this last for too long? Must follow the timeline. I am in the bit. I look at the screen behind me. This looks cool. The screen should have been a lot bigger. It was supposed to. Spinal Tap. Almost. Stonehenge. Timeline. Remember to kill my sound when the end comes. Gro is ready. She is always ready. Classical player. Kill sound.
There she is. On the balcony. Somebody laughs. I think I recognize the laughter. It wasn’t supposed to be funny. But I get it. I guess it was unexpected. And maybe a bit typical me? I wanted this bit to be more extreme. Costumes. Money.
Gro comes down to the stage….is she here? There she is. She is always where she is supposed to be. Good. Classical musician. I kick in the bass amp. The switch is dodgy…no crackle? No crackle. Good. I like this sound. First time I’ve used this setup without EGG3. It’s loud. Very loud. Gro probably can’t hear herself anymore now. We knew that. She looks ok. Not angry. Classical musician. Build. Press space bar. Video is ready. Video starts? Video starts. Build. This is really loud. Strings are vibrating again. That bass drum is not loud enough. Or dirty enough. But maybe it is in the PA. I hope this sounds the way I intend it to sound. Watch the screen. Countdown has started. Remember blackout and silence after 0. 5. Look at the screen. Everybody is looking at it. Maybe this looks weird. 3. Almost done. I think we did ok. 1. Turn off the delay. 0. Kill sound. Blackout. Who’s making that water sound? Ah…it’s Sindre and his tape recorders. It sounds cool actually. Better than total silence. Done. Silence. Lights on?
Lights on. Stand up, smile. Applause. Weird Covid-times. My god, the tables are set far away. People standing up, good sign. Guards are telling them to sit down again. Weird Covid-times. Take a bow. I think it was ok. I almost forgot about the cameras. I hope everything went ok with the recording. Also, with the sound recording. I have to ask; she was a bit stressed before the show. Off stage. Stairs. The other musicians are happy. I’m ok. It was good, I guess. I never get too excited anymore. Why is that? Too controlled? I want a beer. A cold one. People are happy. I wonder what my girlfriend thought of it, she tends to be honest when she doesn't like it. That’s a good thing. I guess. No. It is a good thing. She has good taste in music. People say that she has a better taste in music than I have. Probable true. That’s a nice and cold beer.
1 The Broken Guitar and the body.
The idea behind this guitar was to create an Electro Acoustic instrument. Even though the electric guitar and my setup is an electro acoustic instrument itself, I wanted to further explore what type of timbre I could produce if I placed several contact microphones on a guitar. I had tried to do this on my Goldtop-guitar but found it impractical due to extra cables hanging from the guitar, as well as touching the microphones unintentionally while playing.
Due to the impracticality of the instruments (5 cables), I choose to place it on a guitar stand on stage. I would not lift it up or do any of the typical gestures one would perform while playing a conventional electrical guitar. Honestly, I did not consider the fact that the way I was playing the instrument would have any meaning or potential of being something to further develop. To play it, I had to walk around it, sit down beside it, and at times almost lie on the stage floor to reach a particular place on the instrument that would produce a certain sound. It was not before I presented the footage of this concert in my Midterm assessment, when Professor Øivind Brandtsegg found it a bit strange that I had this strange looking instruments full of cables and strange sounds without ever presenting it to the audience. His point was that there was a lot of scenic potential in this instrument, and that I had to acknowledge this. Instead of almost hiding it, I should present it to the audience.
The instrument looks strange, and I perform gestures very different from when I play a regular guitar when I play this instrument. I should use this and develop it further. I believe this was made extra clear since I spent most of the concert sitting down while playing my other guitar, so the contrast between a very passive way of playing and a physical presence on stage became very clear.
2 Streamlined and the videos.
This was the first time I used video on stage. The intention was to give Dag Egil Njaa, who was playing live with me over the internet, a visual identity. I figured it would help me, as well as the audience, realize that me and Dag Egil were in a live situation -that what we were doing was playing a concert together in real time.
This experience led me to wondering how I could find a way to play with video during a performance. How can I bring this element into my world of improvisation and art in a way that makes sense to me as a performer? These questions led me to the creation of my Meta Guitars which I use in The Mechanical Forest-concerts.
Musicians involved in The E(c)lect(r)ic Guitar-concert
John Derek bishop Electronic musician/resampling
Dag Egil Njaa MAX/Streamlined
Sindre Bjerga Noise/collage-musician
Pål Asle Pettersen Ableton/extended instruments.
Gro Austgulen Violin
Hans Jacob Bjorheim Electric guitar: Guitar ensemble
Espen Eidem Electric guitar: Guitar ensemble
Kristian Enkerud Lien Electric guitar: Guitar ensemble
