We might be tempted to say that without the musical technology available to him, a musician like Håkon Kornstad could not exist. We suspect Kornstad would have found or created another way. 

That one-man band in a box sitting on a round table next to him and his saxophone, the grey slab with the cables running in and out of it, is just a spur to his efforts. It takes in his musical ideas and loops them, creating fresh ground for the artist to extend his improvisations. If that weren’t enough, he begins singing: a full throated tenor, opera-style.

What does it say about him, that he was willing to momentarily put aside a solid career as a jazz instrumentalist, to circle back around to zero and start from there to study opera? Maybe it says that he’s an ambitious, restless explorer. Maybe you just have to follow your muse, stand alone, and end up where you were always meant to be. Sounds like it worked for him.