The band selects a track for each year of their retrospective, ‘Shake The Feeling: Outtakes & Rarities 2015-2021’

The Danish people—like the pastry—elicit something spiraling, steaming, and sugar-crusted. Perhaps this association is best exemplified by Copanhagen’s Iceage, whose discography follows a corkscrew pattern, simultaneously cohesive and disconnected from itself. Their performances generate a dampness in their audience, and their looks are, well, sugar-crusted.

“Nobody saw Iceage surviving their first US tour,” alleges a press release. The sentiment is difficult to accept, considering that the band’s talent matches the quality of their aforementioned good looks. But for any artist who obtains any form of success, it’s important to remember one’s roots—to remind oneself of the obstacles overcome and the people you’ve proven wrong. The hold of disbelievers remains strong, even amid masses of fans. For a band, these fixations naturally manifest in a compilation album: one that demonstrates the fact that even the songs that didn’t quite make the grade years ago, are good enough for the rest of us today.

Iceage’s Shake The Feeling: Outtakes & Rarities 2015-2021 is a collection of songs previously trashed, and now reinvigorated. It is—or, at least, can be seen as—a fuck you sort of album that proves the band’s versatility and reminds listeners of the chronicity of quality across their career. From within a vault of castaway tracks, an album emerges, traversing the hardcore, moody allure with which Iceage first made a name for themselves, to something they call “cowpunk gothic romanticism.”

For Document, guitarist Johan Suurballe Wieth and drummer Dan Kjær Nielsen look back on the songs that informed them, from the deep cuts of better-known artists to treasured tracks from decades past.

“The Street & Babe Shadow” by T. Rex
Tanx might be my favorite T. Rex record. Its sleazy saxophone and Marc Bolan’s earnest vocal delivery sound like a real good time, cruising through the streets at night with a smile on your face.”

“La Allah Dayim Moulenah” by Maleem Mahmoud Ghania featuring Pharaoh Sanders
“This whole record is really mesmerizing. It fuses Gnawa and free jazz—both deeply spiritual and profound traditions of music. For me, getting into this kind of stuff has been rewarding in the sense that it requires trust and patience. But once you surrender to it, it can really take you places.”

“Right On Be Free” by The Voices of East Harlem
“I saw a DVD of a show at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in 1972, featuring B.B. King, Joan Baez, and a group I had never heard of. They were all wearing white t-shirts with revolutionary slogans, moving and playing and singing with so much soul and conviction. They do it in unity—the voices, lyrics, everything about this group is powerful!”

“Get Buck Juice” by DJ Roc
“I have some sort of energy and friction inside me that can only be stimulated with fast, percussive music. This is the stuff that really, really gets me going.”

“Lord Can You Hear Me?” by Spacemen 3
“I first heard this track on a night drive, going from wherever to Budapest. At the time, I was feeling particularly despondent, [consumed by] the tour blues. However bleak the lyrics seem, this song turned it around for me. It’s a three-chord masterpiece.”

“Until It’s Time For You To Go” by Buffy Sainte-Marie
“My mother used to sing me this song when I was a kid. I had forgotten all about it, but rediscovered it some years ago. I love the vibrato.”

“Dark In My Heart” by Lee Hazlewood
“I learned of this song in a discouraged moment; it’s a grim little picture of all the shit life throws at you, but it’s depicted with a light wink of the eye. Great tremolo guitar sound, too.”