C.V. Jørgensen

Despite not being his best-selling work, C.V. Jørgensen [note 1] is generally regarded as the greatest singer-songwriter in the Danish language, thanks to his sophisticated use of language and his ability to dismantle society's certainties through biting, sometimes dreamlike lyrics. His intellectual approach is also reflected in the music, which is refined and marked by varied arrangements, never settling into a single stylistic signature.

Born in Kongens Lyngby, the son of a fireman and a seamstress, he grew up in a fairly quiet suburban environment, far removed from the alienating metropolitan world he sang about in so many of his songs — which explains the love-hate relationship he has always had with the big city: on one hand, a lifestyle he didn't identify with; on the other, the pull of the intellectual opportunities the city offers, far harder to come by in a small provincial town.
He began playing in small bands in the Sixties, and it took years of paying his dues before he got noticed by Hookfarm, a small local label that released his first two albums between 1974 and 1975, without success. For his next record he moved to the Swedish multinational Metronome, whose distribution reach was far greater.

The label showed enormous confidence in the artist, despite his youth and lack of recognition, allowing him to keep his trusted team and not even imposing a producer on him. His already well-honed backing band was kept intact, with Ivan Sonne Horn on guitars, Erik Falck on bass and René Wulff on drums. Also featured, though not on every track, were Per Wium on keyboards, Niels Harrit on saxophone and Martin Andersen on violin. Production duties went to Nils Henriksen, a trusted name who had already produced Jørgensen's "T-Shirts, terylenebukser og gummisko" in 1975, and who was on his way to becoming one of Denmark's most important producers.

The third album, "Storbyens små oaser" ("Small Oases of the Big City"), was recorded in March 1977 at the newly opened Sweet Silence Studios, which would go on to become a nerve centre of Danish music (internationally known in particular because years later Metallica would record "Ride The Lightning" and "Master Of Puppets" there).
The album was released in May of that year, opening with "Det ganske lille band" ("The Rather Small Band"), a solid funk rock track whose syncopated rhythm carries Jørgensen's nasal voice — one might imagine him more at home on a folk record for voice and guitar than on such a layered arrangement, yet he manages to capture the underlying energy perfectly with his cutting delivery. The lyrics mock the rock mythology of life on tour, describing shabby hotels, junk food and an audience made up of "freaks high on pills and coke" and "models fuelled by alcohol and society parties".

"Entertaineren", one of the album's two hits, edges toward what would today be called yacht rock, toning down the funk element without abandoning it altogether, and seasoning it with angelic vocal harmonies, delicate guitar embroidery and a sax solo that serves as the emotional climax in the middle section.
It's music so relaxed that it creates a surreal contrast with the acid-tongued lyrics, which with remarkable foresight skewer the yuppie phenomenon (a term that had yet to be coined at the time, and is usually associated with the Eighties, though it actually took its first steps in the previous decade):

You have the answer to almost everything,
you're data processing made flesh,
you have it all under control and you never make a mistake,
you know what's worth investing in,
because you studied in New York, London and Paris,
you can argue in an academic manner never seen before,
but you're deader than a fossil
and that's the secret behind my smile.
You're the great entertainer,
a genius with a sharp eye,
you're obsessed with an international career,
touring with meaningless monologues,
yeah, you've got practically nothing in your repertoire
even though you entertain the elite
on the French Riviera.
I have boundless admiration
for your self-destructive one-man show,
and if I could be of any use to you
I'll even agree to correct your notebook.
In short, you're now set in stone
in your definitive form,
nothing moves in you anymore,
the stasis is overwhelming

"La Containe" hits the accelerator, somewhere between power pop and funk, propelled by the bassline and the sound of the electric organ, with lysergic lyrics narrating a night in an imaginary Copenhagen club populated by Jesus freaks, criminals and cowboys with horses parked at the entrance. Among other things, John Wayne trades punches with God, and knocks him out with an uppercut.
Eclecticism runs through every track, from the ballad "Tobaksvejen" to the blues rock of "Hamburger Sally", all the way to brushing against punk on "Storbybeduinen", in which Jørgensen has nothing but bad things to say about the Copenhagen lifestyle, before admitting he can't live without it anyway, thanks in particular to the "small oases" where he takes refuge: the partly self-governed community of Christiania, founded in 1971 by a group of hippies, and the Hotel Plaza, famous for its luxurious Library Bar. The pairing of two such distant worlds — epitomising counterculture and the upper bourgeoisie respectively — says a great deal about the songwriter's journey, one that has managed to absorb the traits of both camps into his art, letting them coexist.

The album's high point, and one of the great classics of Danish music, is however "Bellevue", dedicated to the seaside resort of the same name north of Copenhagen. It's a soft rock track with a relaxed pace, very refined in its composition (with subtle modulations and carefully placed chromatic passages), coloured by trickles of electronic keyboards and driven by an acoustic guitar theme, this time perfectly matched to the sung verses:

Summer Sunday, the nation is on holiday,
someone's listening to Arne Myggen [note 2],
while I listen to David Bowie,
the sun is shining and the neighbour has set out
the Dannebrog [the Danish flag] on a coffee table
full of liqueur and dry pastries,
it's all so simple and deeply beautiful,
roll me a joint and pass me some grass.
Summer Sunday, the nation is on holiday,
on my hi-fi turntable
there's "Space Oddity",
Myggen says thanks and closes his show,
what would we have done
this Sunday without him? […]
The girls at Bellevue
are protesting for greater equality,
a little shy and reserved,
the sun keeps shining at Bellevue.
Summer Sunday, the nation stands still,
I myself was lying down
when the family passed by,
bye bye, see you, nothing else new,
yeah, the sun is shining and the music's playing,
go on, try and listen

The melancholy sense of stillness bathed in sunshine, and of stepping away from the daily frenzy, has rarely been captured better in music.
Toward the end of the tracklist there's another play of opposites, with "Abonnenten", more a catatonic trance than a ballad, and "Maskemesteren", which closes the album with the same muscular funk rock it opened with.

The album finally brought Jørgensen to the attention of the wider public, and from there began a rise that would lead to the triumph of his other masterpiece, "Tidens tern" ("The Squares of Time"), which in 1980 sold 120,000 copies (a huge figure for the Danish market at the time).
Jørgensen remains a much-loved figure in the local cultural landscape today: even though he hasn't released an album of new material since 2002, his uniqueness has made him a symbol impossible to ignore, comparable perhaps to what Franco Battiato has been in Italy or David Bowie in the UK.


[note 1] C.V. stands for Carsten Valentin, though he never used it on his album covers. His birth name is actually just Carsten.

[note 2] A journalist, humorist and radio host very well known in Denmark.

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30/08/2026