After delivering one of last years' best danish electronic music releases with the solo album Noiseworks 1, the hyperproductive Danny Kreutzfeldt now collaborates with Mads Weitling (aka Kiloton) in the duo Rumforskning (transl.: Space science/exploration). The name of the duo as well as the album title, Fremtiden (transl.: The Future), smells a bit like retro-futurism, which seems to be totally on purpose. Anyhow there's something cool and scientific about these six long, very drone-based tracks - but also a space and a calmness, that makes you think of the more cosmic scenes from 2001: A Space Odyssey. The cd feels a bit like travelling along with one of the Voyager- or Mariner-probes, which with stubborn determination are leaving the solarsystem these years.

Space is alive in many ways. It is a chaotic hotch-potch of cosmic radiation, dust particles, dark matter and the like. But it's also very huge and empty. And that's exactly how the music of Kreutzfeldt and Weitling sounds. It's related with ambient, click'n'cut and noise, but distinguishes itself by being very detailed and very shapeless at the same time. Typically the tracks are based around a chillingly vibrating synthdrone or an infinitely simple melodic theme, beneath which you find a myriad of hissing, pulsating and clicking effects, that create a movement without actually specifying its nature. They can be interpreted as radiosignals from distant stars - or wind and dust particles from the sun bombarding the sonic spaceship - but maybe it's better to just hear them as mysterious cosmic events that give the "journey" character without giving it a destination, relentlessly pushing it towards the edge of exploration itself. And because they are there, Fremtiden is never idling. Nonetheless some tracks on the album are more distinct than others. The two first tracks, "Vægtløs" and "Lysår", are sound poems that hypnotize, but never really involve the listener. This is good as well as bad: Their oblique nature fits the concept brilliantly. One just doesn't remember much of them afterwards. And there's definitely more to obtain in "Dagslys". A really beautiful, simple and fragile melody, which orbits elegantly around its own axis for nine minutes, while outbursts of changing power and character way keep it hovering in an almost magic fashion. And "Rumtid (Hændelse 2)", which endures for more than 21 minutes, actually repeats the trick - this time only without the notion of anything melodical. Instead the track consists of several drones taking over after each other in a slow, dim metamorphosis. A metamorphosis, which is maintained through the coming and going of draining or deeply rumbling sounds. One is really in deep space here with all its lurking mysteries, wonders and unknown threats.

The recording on Fremtiden closest to conventional music - in whatever way one is supposed to understand that term - is the title track, which lets a slight, cosmic melody hide itself beneath an infinitly waving sound space. The content of this sound space is hard to describe, even though one sense electric outbursts of the kind you get, when you pull a plug in and out of a synth. But even though this track is as fragile and beautiful as you'd like, one rather tends to remember the album for "Dagslys" and "Rumtid (Hændelse 2)".

More than anything, though, the listener is likely to remember Fremtiden as a state. Because that's what the album mainly is. A modernized sound trip back to the time, where space science and space exploration was truly exciting. The time before the American space shuttles started crashing and scientists started installing large quantities of plutonium in satellites and space probes, that could contaminate huge parts of the Earth on impact. This album is a peaceful and (almost) harmless place to be. And listening with the right amount of patience and openness, you're likely to carry more than just a little stardust with you down to Planet Earth.