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I expected Farveblind to make a racket. They do. But Micro Pleasures does something rarer: it makes a racket with purpose. Three men in suits, a studio on Tagensvej, a distortion knob and the idea that small pleasures may be the last taxable income we have left. I expected energy. I did not expect to be sitting there on my fourth listen thinking: this is the year Danish music stopped apologising for itself.
There are works you don’t just revisit. You enter them again, the way you step into a room where someone once said something important. Another Brick in the Wall, Part 5 at Royal Arena is that kind of experience. Big, dark, precise, and carried by music that still has dust, anger, and human loneliness clinging to it.
O Days 2026 looks like a festival that has understood something essential about itself — and dares to turn it up. It’s not necessarily the most commercial names that give the programme weight, but the way the bookings speak to one another. With Disclosure, Joy Orbison, Nia Archives, Mall Grab, Buraka Som Sistema, The Dare, Swimming Paul and Tripolism, this year’s lineup points toward something clubby, precise and unusually well curated. Read on to see exactly why.
Sammy Virji at Poolen was not love at first drop, but the British DJ quickly turned the night into a heavy UK garage party in Copenhagen. For the first twenty minutes, we mostly stood there weighing up the distance to the stage, the crowd and the format. Then, thankfully, the set began to show why Sammy Virji is one of the hottest names on the international club scene right now.
If you’ve ever wondered, “What is Danish live music actually missing?” the answer is apparently giant moustaches, Irina Olsen under an alien head, and Carl Knast. He delivered that, plus pan flute, plus a filthy wifebeater, plus a level of chaos that should probably be illegal and yet felt exactly right.
A group of American Rangers suddenly finds itself facing an enemy that doesn’t play by the usual rules of war: a gigantic, seemingly unstoppable war machine. In the middle of the chaos, a young soldier must try to survive a battle that looks lost before it has even begun. But can human beings really take on a 30-meter-tall robot?
At its core, The Moment is a film about how hard it is to make something raw, authentic and personal in a world where labels, brand partners and capital are always ready to turn art into strategy. It’s a story about an artist fighting to keep ownership of her own creation, even as it grows so huge that it can barely be controlled anymore. In the film, BRAT becomes not just a success, but a monster of meaning, hype and money — and Charli XCX stands right in the middle of it all, still trying to recognise herself.
You could feel it from the first drum hit: this was not a cosy night out. SPLIT:TED and ZIMA took the stage at Rust as if they had already played there ten times before — and the most provocative thing was almost how effortless it looked. The question wasn’t whether they could do it. The question was who would leave with the sharper edge.
A packed house, almost as if every seat were stuffed with anticipation and ready-made laughter. Simon Talbot slips onto the stage with a rhythm that makes it feel as though he’s already won everyone over. The lights shift, the music pounds in step with the pace, and he steers through his universe of deliberate contradictions, grotesque observations and physical comedy. From the very first second, the audience is slapping its thighs — perhaps a little violently, but hey, this is a sold-out Bremen.
There are concerts, and then there are shows. Jason Derulo chose his side long ago. On the Last Dance Tour, Royal Arena was turned into a pop theatre where fire, dancers and LED surfaces mattered just as much as the melodies. And maybe that is exactly the point. When you have 17 years of radio hits behind you, it is not enough to simply walk on and sing them. You have to stage them. And Derulo does — uncompromisingly.
Nintendo has had sport in its blood since the NES days, and Mario has long been the company’s most dependable multi-athlete. Baseball, golf, football, the Olympics — and perhaps most naturally of all: tennis. The aristocratic discipline meets an Italian plumber in red, and somehow, miraculously, it still works. The question is not whether Mario can serve. The question is whether you can return it.
Go to Danish Coffee Festival if you’re curious about coffee craft, machines, and the little microcosm of modern coffee culture — and want to be inspired. Stay home if you mainly drink coffee out of habit and prefer a good cup without having to explain it in haiku, and you don’t have a strong opinion about chestnut nougat notes.
Alter Bridge have been around long enough now to have become their own point of reference. Not as a nostalgic revival project, but as a band that has simply kept going while the world has been busy discovering and forgetting new names. At K.B. Hallen on January 24, it became clear that Alter Bridge no longer stand in the shadow of Creed, 2000s supergroups, or the classic rock shelves at petrol stations. They’re just a band that knows exactly what it’s doing — and who it’s playing for.
Some concerts are played. Others happen. Holdo at Ideal Bar was the latter: dark, intimate, physical. Electronic music without explanations, without distance. Just bodies in motion and a restless energy that refused to let go of the room.
After more than three years away, Stranger Things returns with its fifth and final season. A finale that promises answers, catharsis and one last showdown in Hawkins — and delivers on scale, effects and fan service. But the bigger the series has become, the harder it has been to hold on to its core. Season 5 is an ambitious, often entertaining, but also messy goodbye to a universe that once thrived on mystery, simplicity and genuine dread — and now struggles under the weight of its own success.
When the unsaid makes the most noise – a sibling drama that cuts right to the bone. Some series want to entertain. And then there are the ones that want something from you. The Good Mood firmly belongs in the second camp. It creeps under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll. Not because it shouts, but because it speaks quietly, precisely and uncompromisingly about family, guilt, addiction and the roles we never quite manage to shed – no matter how old we get. With Iben Hjejle and Pilou Asbæk in two richly layered lead performances, the series delivers some of the most complete and moving Danish television I’ve seen in a long time.
I had almost forgotten how slow a game can be — and still feel intense. Metroid Prime 4: Beyond is not interested in pleasing an algorithm or keeping you constantly entertained. It wants your time, your patience, and your attention. And if you give it that, you get something that feels rare in 2025: a game that dares to trust silence, structure, and weight.
Lorde delivered her first Danish headline show with an ultra-sharp, choreographed, and emotionally charged concert universe. A rare, fully realised pop evening.
There are dark November evenings, and then there are evenings when darkness doesn’t just fall — it gets systematized. The kind where everything suddenly smells a little of incense, latex, and anticipation.
There are pop groups that play concerts, and then there is Kalaset, who stage emotional rendezvous with their audience. At Falkonersalen on November 20, it felt as if everyone under 30 knew every word — and as if the band, without saying it outright, was trying to prove that Danish indie pop can still be grand, vulnerable, and full of youthful seriousness.
Watching Now You See Me 3 in 2025 feels a bit like opening a time capsule nobody had missed, only to stand there snickering as old celebrities tumble out of it. It’s not the comeback the world had been begging the universe for — but it is one that taps you on the shoulder and reminds you why this crew was cult in the first place… and why you still fall for their tricks, even though you really ought to be too old for this by now.
No CGI, no glamour — just forest, savannah and two men finding joy in hunting, food and the absurdities of everyday life. For 16 seasons, Nak & Æd has entertained, provoked and inspired. The show reminds us that some experiences are best enjoyed with calm, respect and a crooked smile.
It felt like standing in the middle of a ritual. Not a concert, not a farewell, but a kind of electronic ceremony, where three men who once sounded like the future tried, one last time, to catch up with it.
Todd Rundgren played Amager Bio on Tuesday night with a show that moved between grand guitar solos, theatrical gestures, and brass arrangements so odd they were impossible to resist. A concert that reminded us that versatility does not have to mean a lack of focus — not when it’s delivered by someone who has lived the whole history of music at once.
I really hoped Spike Lee and Denzel Washington’s first collaboration since Inside Man would be a comeback. But Highest 2 Lowest feels like a prestige project with amnesia — a film that wants to be social commentary, thriller and music video all at once. And loses itself in the attempt.
