Klaphat means ‘idiot’ in Danish, and that’s what our Canadian columnist frequently feels like when faced with the complexities of Danish society. This week, through Danish music she hopes to uncover the true nordic soul.

by Katherine Dunn. Jutland Station.

You could say that I’ve been listening to Danish music my whole life. Or, if not my whole life, definitely since around 1997, when the overwrought, Nordic-syrup of ‘Barbie Girl’ burst from my first ‘real’ boom box, in my first ‘real’ room – a vision of jungle print and Lipsmackers that I no longer had to share with my little sister, a near-silent eccentric with a rat’s nest and a Silly Putty stash.

Indeed, if ‘90s kid-hood had a soundtrack, the debut album of the Danish-Norwegian band Aqua was definitely it. I truly spent the later part of the decade jacked on pop, Doritos, and enduring some kind of pop electrocution to that classic ode to love and longing, Dr. Jones.

The band’s ridiculous infamy is often used as a put-down for Danish music, for those who have spent the last fifteen years down a desolate, Scandi-pop deprived hole. (Although I, personally, challenge you to find an accepting, non-judgmental environment and a profound amount of alcohol, and not enjoy Dr. Jones.) But the sugared overtones of the late ‘90s couldn’t be farther from the sounds of Aarhus this week – even if white mesh crop tops, Princess Leia buns, and rockin’ out on the tambourine are back.

Yes, this weekend, it’s SPOT Festival – the city’s yearly showcase for the wild, weird and the wonderful of Nordic (but mostly Danish) music, playing at an Aarhusian bar, club or venue near you. Jutland Station is covering the festival, so here’s my obligatory reference that we have a live blog going full of concert pictures, links to reviews, and features on the festival’s film and interactive events. If you’re in Aarhus, it’s a great way to follow the festival – and if you’re not, it’s a great way to make sure you’re rocking all the best electro-pop before your non-Nordic friends.

After all, in music – as in life (or at least fashion, design, and architecture) – Denmark tends to punch far above its weight. Indeed, since I rediscovered Danish music again at 15 (in a music-magazine profile of SPOT-favourite Blue Van and the restorative powers of sleeping in a tent at the famous Roskilde Festival) – I have seen little reason to listen to anything but Danish music, since the boundaries of disco to soul to indie to funk are so all-encompassing that one need never go anywhere else for music fulfillment. (For an example, check out this video of the soul-pop band’s Quadron’s’ frontwoman, killing it:

Because in this nation of 5 and a half million gentle souls, who absolutely cannot control their limbs when drunk, let’s just say their music is a pure reflection of their rabid love for the party zone. For an explanation of what sets Danish music apart, I turned to the Brit Alfie Hanoun, whose blog Alfitude is my favourite source of new Scandinavian music in English.

“Current Danish pop music comes in every genre you can think of, but whatever you listen to seems to fit into one of two categories – tracks that make you want to spend the night clubbing, compared with tracks that make you want to stay home and cuddle someone you love,” he says. “There’s often extreme influences in the sounds, and heavy sampling from current music trends that are happening around the world.”

(For an illustration of this influence, listen to Christopher – and prepare to meet Denmark’s blond, baby-faced answer to Justin Timberlake, who frankly looks too young to have a song called “Nympho.”)

Alfie notes that while in the ‘90s Scandinavia was known for exporting indie and rock, now they’re the future of electropop – and says, “whatever the genre though, Scandinavian artist tend to create their music in a way that allows for it to be easily enjoyed by a mass of people.”

Besides having an intrinsic pop mentality (what is hygge if not the foundation for good pop music?), this probably makes good business sense. When your country is so small, artists have to look abroad for success almost as soon as they put out their first EP. So while the Spot Festival’s set banter is på dansk, the songs are almost always in English – just a ‘share’ away from listeners in Germany, the UK or the US.

And, as with everything in Denmark, the weather may also have something to do with it – Alfie says most of the artists defer to the cold and the dark when sourcing their creative fuel. When it’s raining sideways, there’s not much else to do besides make music.

So on this beautiful May weekend, step out into the sunshine and enjoy what Denmark’s sleet, hail and deep respect for a good hook can bring.

And a short note – best to let current Danish music override your fond memories of the past – on my last look, Aqua had an album out in 2011. It’s called “Megalomania” and features the opening song “Playmate to Jesus.”

Katherine Dunn actually loves Denmark, and keeps coming back – a problem for which she should probably seek professional help. A former exchange student at the Danish School of Media and Journalism, she is now a student in the Erasmus Mundus master’s degree. She has worked as a reporter and editor in Canada, Denmark and the Netherlands. 

This article was produced independently by Jutland Station.