By Erik Pedersen

Photo- Erik Jepsen

Every thing is swinging. Even the choice sofa bench along the wall, where one is only able to sit on the outer most edge. The rest at our eye level is occupied by legs in all forms - legs, that belong to bodies that sway rhythmically in time to the music somewhere up there near the ceiling. We are sitting in a heaving sea of youngsters in a hall, the size of a fairly large

"It is a real hubbub at the beach hotel tonight" groans a waitress who is trying to do her job. She says that at the hotel, they have never experienced such an intense rush of people to see an orchestra. Seven musicians stand presses together on a raised platform in a corner of the hall. Two girls and five men, whose heads you are only just aware of, through the milling crowd, if you stand tip toe on the bench. But the rhythm and the lyrics of the songs pulsates with every one like the life giving saline solution in the blood of a patient in shock. The storm from the north sea does not have a chance against "Sig du ka'li'mig" and "Vi var engang så tæt". Here there is only an awareness of the sound waves from the throats, guitars and drums. Tøsedrengene - at the moment, the hottest band in the kingdom of the full blast, invite us at 110 decibels to "Gi'hvad du har, og vær' umiddelbar - det er det eneste våben du har" [Give what you have, and be spontaneous - it is the only weapon you

For a couple of years ago they would thankfully say yes to play for an evening for 2000 DKr. Perhaps someone might come and listen to them. Today they take 50,000 DKr. for a concert, but then every proprietor knows that he can put 10,000 beers on ice and get people to drink them standing. How does such a phenomenon arise in the danish music scene? If one drills deeper in order to track the evolution, then one reaches back to a friendship that developed between to small children, who were both placed in a kindergarten in Valby.

The first record.

They were called Klaus (Kjellerup) and Henrik (Stanley), and some years later they happened by chance to meet again in Rungsted because their families had faired so well economically, that they had moved from Valby to the whisky belt. Klaus trained as a journalist and Henrik became a postman, and in their spare time they cultivated their common interest, music. They formed a "basement band", and not much happened with that. A few years passed like this, and when

Jan was a plumber then, but played the drums in his spare time in various unknown jazz-rock groups. "But there was no-one that could be bothered to listen to us. I didn't feel that it would lead to anything at all, so I had actual just sold the drums, when Klaus and Stanley asked me if I wanted to be on the record." This serious handicap for a drummer he overcame by rushing out and borrowing a drum set, and together with an additional two friends and members of the band, sound technician Michael Bruun and at the time teacher Aage Hagen, Tøsedrengene recorded their first record with the optimistic title "Det går fremad" (It goes forward). If the truth be told, it was at that time, about the only way that it could go for the orchestra. The record awoke well-deserved enthusiasm from family and friends, but not anywhere else. The music was good, but singing voices have been heard

The two girls

If Tøsedrengene had lived up to their name, they would have stopped there, and no one would have heard any more of the orchestra. But they continued to play together after the release of the record and two years later they decided to make an attempt with yet another record. They had realised that their vocal capacity was limited, and had after a vote, taken on two girls in the orchestra, the journalist student Anne Dorte Michelsen and Gitte Naur. The intention with the girls was that they should sing "shub-du-ah-tra-la-la" in the background of the recording and otherwise be satisfied with that. When the tunes were ready for the second LP, there were problems with the lyrics to one particular tune. "Stanley and I struggled confused with the lyrics," says Klaus. "We attempted something

Anne Dorte had earlier written quite a few lyrics for other bands, so we asked her if she wouldn't like to attempt to put words to this one. That she did, and that became "Sig du ka'li' mig".

The number was included on the groups second album "Tiden står stille" and lead to Tøsedrengenes long awaited breakthrough, not least because they had the opportunity to play it on TV's "Kanalen". For the first time Tøsedrengenes sold 25,000 copies and received a silver record. Upon that they almost immediately threw themselves into a third record project and gave the LP the original title "Nr. 3". That also sold to silver. In the meantime Gitte Naur had left the band, and in came the dark complexioned Barbados-beauty Maria Bramsen. 

Success in Tivoli

Since then it has become both gold and platinum records for Tøsedrengene, and their concert in Tivoli in May, gathered up towards 30,000 spectators. Their rhythmic rock-reggae music

A concentrating Michael Bruun
prepares for the concert.

There are many that think we have become stinking rich, says Klaus Kjellerup, but actually it is only now that we are starting to earn from performing. And it is from the records we are earning, because with the concerts there are such large expenses, that we are happy just to break even.

The thing with the money from the concerts and records can be a bit difficult to relate to sensibly, they think. The most tempting is just to use it freely, but, says Michael Bruun, "it is dangerous to become famous and suddenly earn money, because immediately one is inclined to set ones private consumption up, and that has caused many to go down with the flag. We get the whole sum paid out without tax being deducted as we are B-taxpayers. The bill comes later, and if there is no money, then the bells ring".

This is how much they earn

Jan Sivertsen says, that the only way one can administer it, is to simply put half of every honorarium in the bank straight away, and just forget everything about the money. But however it is only now, within the latest year and a half, that he has gained a little something economically from performing with the orchestra. And he thinks that more needs to happen, before he can live up to what many thinkhe is - a wealthy rock star.

Last year the members earned from 80,000 to 120,000 DKr. all depending on how much they had contributed with lyrics and tunes. This year

Of course it is a good supplement to our normal income, but it shouldn't become more than that, says Anne Dorte. We enjoy performing together, but we try consciously to hold on to the idea that our lives are much more than Tøsedrengene. It should not be interpreted as if we are not happy with our success, or do not value it, because we do that decidedly. But in a few years when we are no longer famous, we have to have other things to occupy us. I think, one is very quickly forgotten when one stops in this occupation. That is why we all work at other things as well. It is dangerous, if we only see ourselves as members of Tøsedrengene. Then it is easy to go and loose ones identity.

Still, Tøsedrengene haven't really worked out how they should handle this strange phenomenon that is called fame.

When Anne Dorte is well satisfied with her only having a supplementary income with Tøsedrengene - even if the supplement for the time being is greater than her student grant - it fits well together with her involvement as a song writer. We all have the orchestra as an additional employment, so we are not so tied up by it that we need to earn a lot of money. We do not need to prostitute ourselves and release things that we perhaps are not so pleased with, just to make a sale. For me it is important that people

At the moment at the Hotel Klitten in Søndervig, it is more like the roof that Tøsedrengene are giving a lift. To attempt to throw oneself out to dance would be pure suicide, but a nurse, who

My photographer is being sucked away into the maelstrom, as he attempt to move forward to work by the stage. Oppositely, I am being presses up against the nurse, and what other excuse presents itself at a moment like this, than: "Sig du ka' li' mig ... " ( Say that you like me )