There are concerts you watch, and then there are concerts you fall into. Holdo at Ideal Bar was the latter: a smoke-filled, pulsing night where electronic music wasn’t presented, but emerged—up close, without explanations, and with a human restlessness that made it impossible to stand still.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
There are nights when you already know it, before the first note hits the room. Not because you’ve read the reviews, but because your body senses something. A sold-out Ideal Bar on a January night is always a good sign. Not just because people showed up, but because they chose to. Ideal Bar opened in 2003 as the intimate little sister to Store Vega, and has since become the place where Danish artists either find themselves—or lose themselves in public. When the venue hits on a good night, there is simply no better place to see live music in Denmark. The sound is uncompromising, the room tight, the bar never more than five meters away, and the audience stands so close to the stage you can see the nerves in an artist’s eyes—if they’re there. This night, nerves were nowhere to be found. Tension, however, was everywhere.
When Holdo walks on stage, it happens without ceremony. No “hello Copenhagen,” no raised hands, no small talk. The room is filled with smoke, lit only by a projector casting the Holdo logo across three figures on stage. Keys, machines, drums, pads, electronic toys—everything is in place. It looks like a jam setup. It feels like a ritual. All three look down. No eye contact. No contact at all. It’s mysterious, slightly inaccessible—and deeply compelling.
It quickly becomes clear that a deliberate choice has been made: the music is meant to speak for itself. Not identity. Not persona. Not explanation. And it does. The concert begins—and, in a way, ends in the same place. Four on the floor. Big leads. A constant drive that never really lets go. If you came hoping for a narrative musical journey with dramatic peaks and valleys, you might feel a bit shortchanged. But if you came to be hit by some of the most promising new Danish electronic music right now, it’s hard not to leave satisfied.
This isn’t revolutionary music. And that’s not the point. In a time when DJ culture—at least in my view—has run a little wild and forgotten what can actually be created behind a booth, Holdo feels like a necessary counter-move. We’re clearly still living in the aftershock of the wave Fred again.. helped set in motion: live-created electronic moments, built in front of the audience rather than played back at them. Holdo steps straight into that tradition. Not as a copy, but as a proposition.
And the format makes sense. In fact, it makes perfect sense. What wins me over isn’t the songs themselves, but watching three people who clearly know their craft build a party out of Ableton, keys, and synths. The music is born in the room. It grows. It breathes. And even when it touches something familiar, it’s swallowed by energy. If you’ve been to festivals over the past few years, you’ve definitely encountered this new hybrid of DJ performance and live show. Holdo isn’t alone in the format—but they’re among those who make it feel most genuine.
There are mistakes along the way. Small imperfections. Transitions that don’t land perfectly. And thank God for that. In an era where AI-generated music, perfect grids, and clinical precision threaten to strip electronic music of its humanity, it’s refreshing to witness something that pulses a little unevenly. It makes the concert feel alive. Human. Brave.
During the show, it also makes sense to view the evening in light of the catalog Holdo has already built. With releases like Lost, Simpel Melodi (feat. USSEL), Alene, Storm, and the recent Intakt (feat. will), he’s positioned himself within a new wave of Danish electronic music where melody, tempo, and atmosphere matter more than the classic drop. The music exists in a clearly club-oriented space, but remains song-driven and accessible—and that balance translates directly to the live format. These aren’t tracks trying to shock; they’re designed to hold you. And they succeed because the music is built to function in motion, in rooms, in shared experience—not just in headphones.
Throughout the set, Holdo is joined by several features from upcoming tracks. Guest appearances that, in the spirit of anonymity, are never properly introduced. Normally that would be a drawback, but here it almost fits the universe. Mystery is part of the project. Still, the guests lift the roof. The microphone comes into play, the energy spikes, and the room explodes. Every feature delivers—strong vocals, real presence—and adds something visual and dynamic for the audience to latch onto. It’s not just cool. It’s necessary. And it works.
One of the most impressive things about the night is how little I knew about Holdo when I walked in—and how much I wanted to know when I walked out. That’s rare. Even rarer in electronic music. There’s no doubt this is still the early days of the project. But if this is the level of an early live setup, it’s going to be fascinating to see where it goes. The potential is there. Plenty of it.
After the show, we get the chance to sit down with the person behind Holdo. And according to him, it’s very much by design that the project isn’t about who’s behind it. Identity is secondary. The music carries the weight. The goal is to bring electronic music to as many people as possible—even those who might never have sought out the genre before. Not by making it easier. Not by flattening it. But by making it inviting.
That’s also why there’s a clear boundary. Holdo has no ambition to move into a harder, more aggressive sound. There will be no build-ups and drops for the sake of drops. No empty climaxes. No moments designed solely to get hands in the air. The music can be physical, danceable, insistent—but it has to be inclusive. It’s about flow. About community. About standing in something together.
And that makes sense when you think back on the concert. Holdo isn’t a project that shouts. It lures. It pulls people in. It feels like a party you stumble into—and suddenly realize you’ve stayed much longer than you planned.
Without saying too much, it’s hard not to feel that this is only the beginning. One thing is certain: you’ll be able to experience Holdo sometime during the summer of 2026. And if you get the chance, take it. Grab a beer in each hand, jump into the dirt, and let your friends sing along to D-A-D somewhere else. There’s a party here that isn’t trying to impress you—but quietly, steadily, wins you over.
5 out of 6 stars.
