PAWLACZ PERSKI. How exactly has the double bass been prepared for the purposes of Runo? Wojtek Traczyk doesn’t say. I imagine the alterations based on the sound alone, and it’s not a pretty picture: the body of the instrument speared by metal girders and splattered in oil, bleeding
I’m peering at the rhythm through a mist. I catch sight of silhouetted hi-hats and the blur of bass drums, aware that most of the structure is hidden from me. Syncopations allude toward those drums that I cannot see, as beats stand lop-sided and gravity defiant, with surfaces vanishing
I’m reminded of a fly bouncing against a window pane, buzzing as it charges and dances into the glass, perplexed by the forces that withhold it from the world outside. The quartet (Łukasz Kacperczyk and Wojtek Kurek of Paper Cuts, plus Krzysztof “Arszyn” Topolski and Tomasz Duda) seem to
The saxophone sounds stranded; like a beautiful rose growing up through a crack in the concrete, emitting the sort of syrupy tones that usually nestle amidst the soft keyboards and vocal tones of a soul ballad. Here, it’s sandwiched between mistreated guitar and vacant electronics. Bachorze don’t care.
I’m in a gigantic metal dumpster in the pitch black, surrounded by all of those sounds deemed too garish or abrasive to fulfil the ruthless checklist of popular dance music. They roll over me and eachother, drumming reverberantly against the walls: hobbling electronic glissandos (the digital equivalent of nails