Six years ago, the schoolboy Johan Dalene cruised to victory at the Nielsen Competition in Odense, Denmark. Seldom has that verb presented itself more readily. Dalene was not the most virtuosic player in the contest, but he was the most focused and the most interesting, able to still a restless crowd not by dazzling them with pyrotechnics but by whispering in their ear. 

The Dalene sitting opposite me now - taller, broader, with the confidence once only evident in his characteristic way of eyeballing an audience - is the adult version of the kid from 2019.

Does he remember much about the competition?

‘I remember getting more into it after the first round, and there being a lot of pieces to play…it was very hard to enjoy it. But I was trying.’

Victory in Odense was ‘the start of something,’ says Dalene. The arrival of Covid-19 eleven months later nearly put an end to it again. He continued playing for his teacher Per Enoksson and hung out with Stockholm-local Janine Jansen, ‘such a big inspiration for me.’ Dalene and Jansen share a certain poise on the instrument, but that’s probably where comparisons end.

‘It was never about sounding like Janine,’ says Dalene. ‘You listen to her playing and hear how full of imagination it is. You hear her on a recording and you just know it’s her. That’s the goal.’ 

Contrary to notions of a generation that can’t accept a standpoint different to their own, Dalene enjoys interpretations that contrast markedly with his.

‘I looked up to the older guys, Oistrakh and Heifetz,’ he says.

After a period in his early teens when he fell out of love with the violin, he reconnected with them via YouTube. He picked up his instrument again, with renewed interest.

 A piece beloved of those big figures, Waxman’s Carmen-Fantasie, has recently been recorded by Dalene. But it was also on the menu at the Nielsen Competition, where the young violinist gave a prowling, muscular performance of it while setting out his stall as a fine musical storyteller. I wrote in my notes at the time how straightforward that process appeared to be for him. Perhaps what I was witnessing was the sort of complete truth and authenticity that comes only with youth.

Does Dalene recognise that sentiment?

‘Absolutely. The naivety of youth is a huge advantage. There comes a point when you really start to think about what you’re doing, which of course you have to do to get to a certain level. But that also means things start to get more difficult. What you need is to think about things but then let them go when you’re performing - get into that flowing state. But you can’t expect it every time.’

How often can you expect it?

‘Hopefully at least once a concert. Sometimes the whole concert, which often doesn’t mean the whole concert will be flawless.’ 

Dalene’s predecessor on the BBC’s New Generation Artist scheme, the Norwegian violist Eivind Ringstad, has recently taken a job in the London Symphony Orchestra. Guro Kleven Hagen, the Norwegian soloist acclaimed in the 2000s, is now Concertmaster of the Norwegian Opera Orchestra.

Do these retreats into salaried, pandemic-proof security from his peers make Dalene think?

‘Right now, I would be super happy playing in an orchestra, as long as I’m still working with music. But I’m also super happy getting to play concertos with orchestras.’

This season will offer him plenty of opportunities. He visits orchestras in Berlin, Minnesota and Liverpool and London. In addition to his Australia tour with Musica Viva he has forthcoming recitals at venues including Wigmore Hall and festivals in Verbier and Rosendal.

'I need to feel I have something to say'

Dalene’s accent betrays his dual Norwegian-Swedish heritage. He is dressed in jeans and a sweater, and is fresh-faced underneath his mop of chocolate brown hair. We are sitting outside a utilitarian café in central Stockholm - his suggested meeting place - almost underneath one of the many concrete flyovers that carve their way through what would otherwise be the most beautiful city in northern Europe. Life feels good.

‘This is a very nice place to live,’ says Dalene, who moved to the capital for high school when he was 16. Seven years later, can he enjoy all that Stockholm has to offer?

‘I tend to see friends in the evenings, but I like to feel like I’ve finished the day’s work before I do something fun,’ he says, revealing a Nordic-Lutheran work ethic. ‘Most of my friends are musicians, so they’re also practicing a lot. There’s a mutual understanding there.’

I am reminded of an encounter with a young violinist from Norway some years ago, who was exactly the age Dalene is now, and her railing against the easy Scandinavian life and its effect on the artist. ‘The mentality is that you should play because it is fun and not feel pressure,’ she told me, ‘but sometimes you need those pressures, because without those ugly feelings you will have nothing to give of yourself. You need to know what it is to be jealous, to be desperate.’ 

I am interested in Dalene’s response to that idea, sitting in the comfort of the Stockholm sun.

‘I feel lucky,’ he says. ‘Scandinavia gives you a feeling of security and the highest living standards in the world. I know if I lose a finger I can educate myself later in life. That view is a beautiful one in a way, and I’m sure it works for her. But I think you can be an emotional person even if you have not experienced serious struggles in your life. Experiencing beautiful moments with your friends can be inspiring. I think I am probably quite a simple person.’


Andrew Mellor is author of The Northern Silence: Journeys in Nordic Music and Culture (Yale University Press, 2022)