Niechęć
Niechęć

A punch, a caress from Poland.

They play Jazz without knowing it, they play and that’s enough.

They play. They caress you with light foundations between electronics and threads of wind instruments. Then a sudden slap from Mr. Zorn. Not even time to react and you're floating on a frozen lake of winds, electronic drones supported by light strings of bows.

Blessed. Sudden slap and an avalanche of sounds, always them turning over, creating a heavy wall. Many voices shout a sweet incomprehensible song.

Rock, Jazz. Emotions. They dance confused in a glacial little theater, changing clothes, mixing them without tragedy. Happy to experience this exchange of roles. A little theater.

A dance over musical ruins and joining this dance is only pleasure.