Behind The Tracks: Holon - Silent City (Single) (2026)
Some songs arrive all at once. Others quietly wait for years until life catches up with them.
“Silent City” belongs firmly in the second category.
The first part of the song was written around fifteen years ago, shortly after the end of my
marriage. I remember spending Easter alone in Trondheim after my ex-wife had moved out.
If you’ve ever experienced Easter in Norway, you’ll know how quiet the cities become. Most
people leave for their cabins or head to the mountains to go skiing, leaving behind streets
that almost feel deserted.
That year, the silence of the city seemed to magnify the silence I felt inside. Sitting alone
with my acoustic guitar, the two chords and the main melody simply appeared. The empty
streets outside and my own thoughts became the foundation for Silent City.
About ten years later, life looked very different. I had found love again and was no longer
alone. Then COVID happened.
Suddenly, Trondheim became quiet once more—but this time, for completely different
reasons. Like many couples spending far more time together than usual, my partner and I
occasionally started getting on each other’s nerves, so escaping into my home studio
became a welcome way to recharge.
While recording drums with Geir Anfinn Halland Johansen, I had a vague idea for extending
the song. I imagined continuing with the same two chords but shifting into a 6/8 groove with
an African-inspired feel driven mostly by toms. We recorded a rough idea without really
knowing where it would lead.
Back in the studio during lockdown, that simple rhythmic sketch slowly evolved into what
became the entire second half of Silent City. Looking back, I find it fascinating that one song
could end up reflecting two completely different chapters of my life, connected by the same
image of a city that had fallen silent.
One thing I still find amusing is that the entire seventeen-minute piece is built almost entirely
around just two chords. Rather than relying on harmonic changes to create movement, I
challenged myself to keep the music evolving through arrangement, dynamics, rhythm,
texture, and orchestration instead. It became an interesting experiment, and I think the
limitations actually made the song stronger.
Another musician who deserves a special mention is Kjell Magne Robak, whose hauntingly
beautiful cello performance sets the emotional atmosphere from the very first notes. His
playing brings warmth, melancholy and a sense of fragility that became an essential part of
the song’s identity.
Lyrically, the song gradually shifts perspective. It begins with the loneliness of one individual
searching for another person, but slowly grows into broader questions about identity,
intuition, fear, hope and the choices that shape who we become. As the city begins to wake
up again, so does the person living inside it.
One thing I’ve found particularly interesting since sharing the song with friends is that people
seem divided about which half they prefer. Some connect most strongly with the intimate
and reflective first part, while others are drawn to the expansive second half. I like that. To
me, it feels like both halves belong together—they’re two sides of the same story.
Looking back now, I don’t really think Silent City is a song about loneliness anymore.
It’s a song about silence.
The silence after loss.
The silence of empty streets.
And the silence that sometimes allows us to hear ourselves more clearly than ever before.
Video: https://youtu.be/r1Vm1OYrgMM
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