Copenhagen-based composer and multi-instrumentalist Tomas Raae has joined us for a discussion of his fascinating new album, …før de spredtes, which bridges ancient folk traditions and contemporary soundscapes. Known for his love of improvisation, musical archaeology, and the unexpected, this musician draws from Nordic, Middle Eastern, African, jazz and experimental influences to create music that listens as much as it speaks. His latest record breathes new life into centuries-old Nordic folk melodies, blending them with original compositions, ambient textures, and deep emotional resonance. It’s a sonic journey that explores memory, place, and what it means to keep tradition alive without freezing it in time. With haunting vocals courtesy of Eline Hellerud Åsbakk and a thoughtful production, the album feels both intimate and timeless. For On The Record, Tomas Raae opens up about his creative process, his fascination with forgotten melodies, and the power of music to connect past and present.
Welcome to Unrecorded! For those who aren’t already familiar with Tomas Rae, can you introduce yourself?
I love music in all its forms, but I’m especially drawn to sounds that involve improvisation, unpredictability, and the courage to explore. So I tend to gravitate toward niche music in many shapes—Nordic, Middle Eastern, African, jazz, experimental, indie, and beyond. That said, I also have a big soft spot for a great song, regardless of genre.
Right now, I’m most interested in music as a kind of deep listening—especially music that carries memory. I have a deep love for musical archaeology—digging into forgotten melodies and trying to figure out what they’re still trying to tell us. I move between folk, ambient, improvisation and soundtrack work, but at heart, I’m just trying to make music that listens as much as it speaks.
You’ve just released your album, …før de spredtes, which blends centuries-old folk melodies with your own original compositions. What was the starting point for this project and how did the idea evolve over time?
It started as a kind of sonic curiosity: What happens if you take a 600-year-old melody and whisper it into a different room?
I was flipping through old Nordic folk songs—some of them haunting, others almost naive—and something about them felt open. They weren’t sealed museum pieces; they invited dialogue. So I began sketching around them, adding textures, fragments, and atmospheres, almost like placing them in a new landscape. At first, I thought of it as a respectful experiment—maybe a quiet remix of tradition.
But as I worked, the project shifted. It stopped feeling like interpretation and became something more personal. These melodies aren’t just historical—they’re alive. Full of longing, loss, light, and mystery. At some point, I stopped thinking about genre entirely and just started listening to what each melody wanted to become.
In a way, I’ve always known that I would one day make this kind of album—something rooted in the Nordic tradition. I’ve dreamed about it for years. But I was waiting for the right voice. And when I came across Eline’s singing—completely by chance, on Spotify—I immediately felt that the time had come. Her voice was the missing piece.
Can you talk about the quote that inspired the album title?
Ernst Frandsen’s book discusses the documentation of these old songs before they would otherwise fade from collective memory. Although the songs were written down and thus preserved, this musical tradition was never about preservation in a museum-like sense. Instead, it centered on understanding what it means to be human and reflecting on the world around us. And dancing. Chain dancing, one of the great entertainments of the Middle Ages, spread from France to the rest of Europe. The melodies came with the dance, but the lyrics were created locally, written about life in the local community.
The full quote from Frandsen’s book reads:
“Og det var en lykke, at det blev dem, at netop det befolkningslag, som gennem århundrede havde nedlagt deres sjæl i disse poesier, også fangede dem ind i flugten, før de spredtes.”
Translated: “And it was a blessing that it was they, that it was exactly that social class, which for centuries had poured their souls into these poems, that also caught them in flight, before they scattered.” (Ernst Frandsen 1945, Danske Folkeviser)
What surprised or moved you most as you explored these traditional melodies?
What surprised or moved me most as I explored these traditional melodies was how unpolished and strange they are—in the best possible way. These aren’t tidy, symmetrical tunes. Instead, they drift, repeat in unexpected ways, and often feel more like incantations than conventional songs. I found that incredibly moving. It reminded me that tradition isn’t necessarily about neatness or perfection; it’s about emotional weight and the deep human experiences these melodies carry.
I’m also fascinated by the way this tradition actually worked: the dance and melody “traveled” through Europe—originating, as I understand it, from central France—while the lyrics constantly changed depending on the local area where the song was performed. The variations reflected what was happening in that community, how well the performers understood the language, and who was singing. In that sense, it was a kind of improvised, living process unfolding within the fixed framework of the dance and melody.
How do you approach the balance between honoring the folk tradition and reimagining it for a contemporary listener?
I try not to “update” the material in a cosmetic way. Instead, I focus on listening carefully to the inner logic of each song—its mood, its pacing—and then building a world around it. I see it less as preserving tradition, more as extending its conversation into the present, while listening deeply for what I can recognize from my own life and what these songs can offer us in our current time.
Eline Hellerud Åsbakk’s voice is a striking presence on the record, so what was it like collaborating with her?
Eline is amazing. She has a clear and almost otherworldly tone. The first time I heard her sing, I felt like I was hearing something I already knew—but in a new language. Her voice is equal parts clarity and mystery, which is exactly what this music needs. It has been a true pleasure working with her. She is talented, quick, kind, and fun. Over the process, Eline, her husband, and I became friends. I’ve visited them several times in Oslo, and they’ve come to Copenhagen to visit me.
How did your background in pop, improvisation, and soundtrack work inform the production choices on …før de spredtes?
All those influences are in there. From soundtrack work, I’ve learned to think in layers and space; pop taught me about form and restraint; and improvisation gave me the courage to leave things unresolved. I wanted the album to feel like something that breathes. In a way, I feel like it’s a kind of soundtrack to a film.
There’s a strong sense of place in this album, so would you say that is important to your musical identity?
Definitely. Place—both physical and emotional—is at the heart of my work. I think of music as a kind of cartography. On this album, I was trying to map a sound-world that feels both Nordic and human, intimate and timeless. It’s incredibly important to me that you can really feel the local, the Nordic essence in the music. That has, in a way, been the whole journey—creating a kind of ‘roots’ music from the North, from where I come from.
I’ve tried, with everything I could think of, to make it present and tangible. I’ve used sounds I recorded in the Nordic nature—Denmark, Iceland, Norway, Sweden—which I sampled and incorporated as textures. I’ve written about the North—its nature, darkness, light, cold, and people. Of course, I’ve used the old songs and collaborated only with Nordic musicians. Even the mix and mastering were done by Nordic professionals: August Wanngren (mix), Thomas and Sofia at Stockholm Mastering. All of these elements are part of making the music grounded in the place I come from, and I feel that local identity deeply shapes my musical expression.
Do you see this project as part of a wider revival or reinterpretation of Nordic folk traditions happening now?
It might be part of that, but honestly, I haven’t followed closely what others are doing—I’ve mostly followed a desire I’ve had for many years. This connection to the local and the intimate has always been present. Of course, pop music often focuses on themes like love and relationships, but there has always been strong local music as well. You can hear it in Nordic films, in rural communities with traditional fiddlers, in folk dancing, among the great classical composers, and throughout the decades: the 60s with Jan Johansson and Monica Zetterlund, the 70s with NHØP and Ole Koch Hansen, the 00s with Sigur Rós, Sorten Muld, Stina Nordenstam, the 10s with White Birch, Ane Brun—and now with artists like Johanna Sulkunen, Valkyrian Allstars (I’m a huge fan of them all!), and now also , Eline and me 🙂
What’s next on the horizon for the project?
We’re currently working on a live version of the album that will be more immersive, where visuals and space become active parts of the experience. It’s about creating an atmosphere that surrounds the audience and brings the music to life in a new way. Beyond that, we’re already well underway with the next album—lots of sketches, lots of songs. In fact, our live set already includes five new tracks we’re playing. It’s incredibly exciting and a lot of fun. I’m also gathering new fragments—melodies, field recordings, sounds from nature—and seeing where they might lead me next. It’s an ongoing journey, and I’m excited to explore what comes after.
You can listen to ‘Jeg Glemmer Dig Aldrig’ in our Folk This Way playlist.
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