Daniel Herskedal - Movements of Air

Across ten albums, Herskedal has reimagined what it means to be a brass player. The tuba, once considered heavy and earthbound, became through him an instrument capable of breath-like phrasing, nimble ornaments, and unexpected lightness. Although he remains diligent in maintaining the physical demands of the instrument, his identity today feels broader: shaped as much by composers, nature, and injustice as by technique. “I think only about sound now, about music itself,” he says. “The tuba is a tool, but it’s not the point.”

In Movements of Air, his latest release, Herskedal draws from everything he has learnt, the patience of solo performance, the empathy of collaboration, the precision of composition for film and orchestra. If Slow Eastbound Train captured a young artist daring to imagine new forms, Movements of Air reveals a musician fully in command of his tools, willing to trust silence, fragility, and space as much as melody and motion. “I used to be careful about staying too long in the fragile moments,” he says. “Now, I let them be.”

There is no false modesty in his reflection, only a quiet certainty born from experience. He still dreams of composing a full symphony without soloists, an ambition sparked when he was 17, but recognises that time, patience, and honest growth are part of the same arc. “Things change faster than ever,” Herskedal says. “I’m careful about predicting the future. I just know that whatever happens, it has to be real.”

In a world often chasing speed and volume, Herskedal’s music offers something rarer: a space where listeners can lose track of time, breathe differently, and step into a sound-world shaped by curiosity, discipline, and heart.