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It’s easy to call yourself inclusive when no one has asked you to move the furniture yet. At Enghave Church, the question becomes more concrete: Who gets to shape a religious community, and what happens when the answer is visible from the street?
An established artist is set to play first, but the name is still under wraps. It sounds like the concert industry’s answer to serving dessert before dinner. Masiv, Ayla and Inga Bari are the night’s main names. I like the idea that they’re the ones the audience is waiting for. The order is easy to flip. Audience habits are harder.
The golden rat has no intention of apologizing. It lies beside a small bronze figure, takes up an absurd amount of space, and makes established art look like something someone forgot to put back in place. I’m already on the rat’s side. It’s a relief to see an exhibition whose ambition is visible before anyone has explained it with a word ending in “-practice.”
The funny partner gets off lightly. A well-timed insult, a laugh around the table, and suddenly the wounded one is the one ruining the evening. To me, that move is far more offensive than suggesting an open relationship. That’s why The Invite’s marital power struggle interests me more than the question of who might possibly want to sleep with whom.
The two French men behind Justice have trashed hotel rooms, won Grammys, and staged an opera with no audience. Now they’re playing O Days Festival — and I’m still hoping someone shouts “We Are Your Friends,” even though it’s been 20 years since that was cool.
Ericka Jane arrived at De Første Stråler in a white cap, angel wings, balloons and a T-shirt that declared her “AS APATHETIC AS CAN BE.” Luckily, she was anything but. She worked for every glance and every lifted head, but between the stage’s big gestures and the audience’s cautious nods, a distance opened up that the pop never quite managed to close. Everything was set for the party. The only thing missing was the moment it actually began.
There’s a particular vibe to a streaming movie you’d secretly hoped more from: that faint crackle of anticipation turning into something that feels a lot like lukewarm popcorn. I went into Mayday with the low expectations you can only build after a few years of direct-to-streaming experience. Here, Ryan Reynolds and Kenneth Branagh are asked to carry a story that wants to be both a thriller and something a little more off-kilter, but it always feels half a step behind itself.
Marvel Tōkon: Fighting Souls is a handsome, accessible fighting game with inventive characters, but it’s missing that final pinch of spice that would make it an evergreen.
On P3’s little sunlit patch, Thursday’s biggest bitch was found with bingo cards, twerking and a collective decision that dignity was something you could pick up again on the way home. While the big stages used lights, smoke and millions of streams to wring reactions out of the crowd, the drag bingo did it with a few numbers, quick one-liners and people willing to look ridiculous together.
Sparkle, drag bingo and huge choruses brought Valbyparken together as Syd for Solen 2026 opened with a Thursday full of variety.
In rock history, there is always room for a misfit with a guitar, a crooked hat and enough confidence to let the songs breathe. Kurt Vile has long occupied that space where slacker attitude meets craft, and on Tuesday night at Vega it became crystal clear why he keeps growing. Not as a stadium figure. More like someone who slowly takes over the room while you realise you’re already nodding along.
Can a metal show still feel like family, ritual, and a little bit of noisy therapy all at once? On Tuesday night at Lille Vega, Soulfly gave a pretty clear answer: yes — if Max Cavalera is allowed to run the show, and if the crowd shows up with both ears and spine in place.
Medina brought generations and festival types together in Valbyparken for a shared, hoarse folk celebration at Syd for Solen 2026.
sombr brought leather, the Danish flag, roses and a leap into the sea to Syd for Solen. The show was big, but the songs never quite found their climax.
Can you still be surprised by an act you’ve watched for three decades? Apparently yes. Infernal closed Wonderfestiwall 2026 on the main stage with an energy that made the night tremble and the step counter behave as if it were being paid per kilometer. Lina and Paw have been part of Danish dance music since 1997, but here they didn’t stand like a nostalgic museum of 00s party culture. They stood like a band that still knows how to build a finale that leaves you a little dazed, and a little happier to be human.
Some frontmen walk onstage. Martin Hedegaard arrives like a man who’s been given five minutes to prevent a minor natural disaster. On Ankermyr, he stood in a grey T-shirt with a battered Mustang bass slung over his shoulder and raindrops hanging in the stage lights. He sang, played and conducted the whole place with his entire body. SAVEUS wants to save love, the provinces, pop music and possibly the municipal emergency plan all at once. That could be unbearable. This night, it was convincing.
Wonderfestiwall has now put Benjamin Hav & Familien on the bill in 2022, 2024 and 2026. At this point, it’s no longer booking. It’s a service interval. Every other year, the disco balls, the knee joints and the nation’s tolerance for choreographed silliness have to be checked over.
You feel Valbyparken before you properly hear it. The dry grass, the late-summer heat and the fine dust rising from the paths, slowly finding its way into shoes, skin and throat. Syd for Solen is a festival that looks broad on paper, yet still has a distinct musical temperature. There is room here for Danish-language melancholy, new rap, experimental R&B and a reunion many have been waiting nearly a decade for. Saturday gave us five very different experiences — from the soft opening to the big nostalgic finale.
Honestly, I’d hoped for a proper pop explosion. Instead, I got something that felt more like a 90s fitness video with festival wristbands and a drummer who was only halfway convinced. Mel C at Wonderfestiwall 2026 should have been Saturday’s big international moment. Instead, it became a concert that seemed to sweat a little in its own nostalgia.
I was standing there with a festival beer and good intentions when The Cardigans took the stage at Wonderfestiwall on Friday around 6 p.m. It should have been a small pop-soaked breather, all Swedish elegance and communal singing in the sun. Instead, it became a concert where you could constantly feel what the audience had come for — and what the band themselves wanted something else from.
Two weeks after releasing Emotional Junglist, Nia Archives took over the Omni stage at O Days 2026 with her own leather sofa and a set that turned Refshaleøen into one giant dancing organism. We were in the crowd. Here’s our review.
Disclosure were given the honour of closing O Days 2026, the festival’s fifth anniversary, with a DJ set on the Omni stage on Saturday night. We arrived with a slight reservation and cycled home with aching legs and a silly grin. Here is our review.
Electronic music has always had that peculiar ability to make national borders feel a little unnecessary. Tripolism are a good example: in just a few years, Bryn, Frederik and Rasmus have moved from the Danish scene’s more insiderish circles to lineups where Coachella is not just a dream, but a recurring address. At O Days, they stood in Orangeriet on a Saturday afternoon and proved that world-class can also smell like sun-warmed grass and festival dust.
Can a superhero film still feel like a film, and not just a franchise that’s been given too much electricity? Spider-Man: A Brand New Day at least tries to answer yes. Tom Holland returns as Peter Parker, and after years of multiverses, noise, and digital confetti, it’s almost a relief that the series once again dares to be small enough to feel human.
Honestly, I expected a game that would lean so heavily on Bond mythology it would buckle under its own weight. Instead, IO Interactive has made something far more interesting: a game that knows its tuxedo, but also knows when to roll up the sleeves. 007 First Light is both grand and playful, and it feels as if Danish game development has just grabbed a global franchise by the lapels and said: “Relax, we’ve got this.”
