Pokazywanie postów oznaczonych etykietą post-rock. Pokaż wszystkie posty
Pokazywanie postów oznaczonych etykietą post-rock. Pokaż wszystkie posty

sobota, 25 lipca 2026

ŁŚ Magazine: Kielichy PL



Dopiero co wydali EP-kę i już wydali debiutancką płytę długogrającą zatytułowaną Sawant. Dopiero co wydali płytę, a już tworzą następną. Wrocławskie Kielichy porzuciły bezpieczne wody neofolku i ruszyły na niezbadane morza. Gdzie dopłyną? Czy w ogóle wiedzą? Na dwa tygodnie przed festiwalowym debiutem na katowickim OFFie, udało mi się porozmawiać z zespołem w Krakowie. Był ciepły, letni wieczór, siedzieliśmy nad Wisłą i rozmawialiśmy o tym, co jest w ich muzyce gotyckiego, co to za sawant i co będzie dla nich największym wyzwaniem przed pokazaniem się szerokiej publiczności na OFFie.


Pośrodku morza


ŁŚ: W styczniu tego roku wyszła wasza EP-ka Punkty płonące, na której znalazł się utwór Morze czarne z tekstem: “Pozwólcie nam płynąć na statkach utkanych ze snów, szukać nowych mórz” i “musimy wreszcie coś zniszczyć, aby móc stworzyć nowe miejsca”. A już w czerwcu wydajecie swoją pierwszą płytę długogrającą, Sawant. Czy ta płyta to już jest to miejsce, do którego do płynęliście, czy raczej wciąż skupiacie się na eksploracji starych terenów? 

Adrian Szczecina: Ten tekst nie był pisany z zamysłem tworzenia narracji o naszej twórczości. Szczerze mówiąc to bardziej chciałem po prostu wyeksponować bardziej życiowy temat. Też fun fact jest taki, że ta piosenka została stworzona już po napisaniu Sawanta. A więc to nie jest tak, że ta płyta to już ma nas zdefiniować na najbliższych kilka wydawnictw. Cały czas sobie pozwalamy na eksplorację, szukanie tych nowych miejsc.

ŁŚ: Czyli tak jak w tej piosence, nie macie tego portu, do którego płyniecie?

Aleks Ciekalski: Nie, żadnej konkluzji nie ma i chyba się z tym pogodziliśmy. Nasza twórczość to kolejny przykład na to, że podróż jest ważniejsza niż cel.


ŁŚ: Ale powiedziałeś, że ta płyta teraz jest trochę inna muzycznie.

AC: Tak, jasne, odjechaliśmy na tej płycie, a na nowym wydawnictwie, nad którym teraz pracujemy, odjeżdżamy w jeszcze inne miejsca. Ale nie jest to coś, do czego dążymy za wszelką cenę: zmieniać się tylko żeby się zmieniać. To jest bardziej naturalna ewolucja. Żyjemy i doświadczamy nowych rzeczy, słuchamy nowych nowej muzyki, poznajemy nowych ludzi i to nas skłania, żeby też muzycznie iść gdzie indziej jako zespół i jako kolektyw.

AS: Nasze gusta się zmieniają i zmieniają się też nasze możliwości. Mamy teraz więcej instrumentów. Nie, nie boimy się eksplorować. U nas to mnie też kręci, że ten element niszczenia starej stylistyki wszystkim nam się podoba. Podejrzewam, że każdy z nas czerpie satysfakcję z tego, że musieliśmy wyjść z neofolku i że teraz jesteśmy już na pełnym morzu.

Mikołaj Uchman: Ten materiał też nie powstawał linearnie, na przykład część utworów, które jest na tej płycie powstała nawet jeszcze przed wydaniem pierwszej EP-ki. 

AC: Na przykład Myśliwy, który został kompletnie przearanżowany. W pierwszej wersji był bardzo, ale to bardzo neofolkową piosenką: wszystkie instrumenty i rytmika były bardzo neofolkowe. Przearanżowaliśmy go na potrzeby tej naszej nowej odsłony, że tak powiem, nowego imidżu.

MU: Został tylko tekst i akordy w refrenie.


ŁŚ: Adrian, powiedziałeś, że tekst Morza czarnego nie odnosi się do waszej twórczości, ale jak tak was słucham, to można pomyśleć, że jednak się trochę odnośni.

AS: Pisząc ten tekst nie starałem się stworzyć narracji, która miałaby opowiadać słuchaczowi, co się stanie z zespołem, czego może spodziewać. Patrząc z perspektywy czasu może to się faktycznie wpisało, ale nie taka była intencja.

ŁŚ: No widzicie, ja się nabrałem, ja automatycznie odczytałem to jako jako taki właśnie manifest. Dokądś jednak zmierzacie. Możecie powiedzieć tak w skrócie, w jaką stronę? Kontrolujecie to w jakiś sposób, czy po prostu idziecie na żywioł?

AS: Jest jakaś estetyka, którą mamy w głowie. W pewien sposób chcieliśmy troszeczkę zrezygnować z tego crescendującego post-rocka na rzecz bardziej prymitywnego no wave'u, ale nie udało się tak w pełni.

MU: Są takie elementy, ale zostały okraszone jakimiś jeszcze wpływami. No wave jest taki bardzo prymitywny, bardzo mocno oparty na rytmie, na dysonansach.

AC: I przez to podobny jest do neofolków w tej swojej formule. Bardzo łatwo się przez to wyczerpuje. Tak na EP-kę, albo dwie jak sądzę. Dla nas stałoby się to mega szybko monotematyczne i nudne. Więc mimo takiego pierwotnego założenia prędko z tego zrezygnowaliśmy i zrozumieliśmy, że po prostu potrzebujemy iść z naszym naturalnym flow. I potem znowu pojawiały się kompozycje, które miały jakieś bardziej rozciągniętą strukturę, połamane metrum, coś co w ogóle nie przypominało no wave’u. Więc chyba konkluzja jest taka, że jest to totalnie poza naszą kontrolą i to dobrze.

AS: Na Sawancie, w ostatnim utworze, w Schodach wężowych, jest już taki klimat trochę bliskowschodnich skal. To zapowiada mam wrażenie nasze kolejne wydawnictwo, które jednak nie wiemy jeszcze, kiedy się ukaże. 

AC: Więc ten element absurdyzmu, że wszystko jest poza kontrolą, a mimo to jest ok, jest w nas żywy.

AS: Muzyka, którą robimy musi się nam podobać. Chyba taka jest konkluzja.

Kielichy na początku 2026

ŁŚ: Dopiero wydaliście nową płytę i już planujecie następną?

AS: No tak, naturalnie się to wszystko dzieje. Też ten proces produkcyjny ostatniej płyty był mocno rozciągnięty. Nagraliśmy materiał w kwietniu zeszłego roku ale cały proces dogrywek, miksu, masteringu zakończył się dopiero zimą.

ŁŚ: Dobra, a to jeszcze wrócę do tego Morza czarnego, bo nie ukrywam, że ten utwór zrobił na mnie wrażenie. Na pierwszej EP-ce mieliście Bałtyk, na drugiej Morze czarne i jak sobie spojrzałem na kawałki na nowym albumie, to aż się zdziwiłem, że nie ma żadnego morza wśród tytułów. Co jest takiego w tym morzu, że jest dla ciebie, Adrian, tak inspirującym tematem?

AS: Od dzieciaka byłem strasznie zajarany morzem i żeglowaniem ogólnie. To trochę absurdalne, bo jestem z gór, ale chociaż teraz mieszkam przy jeziorze. Jeśli chodzi o Bałtyk to mam wrażenie, że ten utwór łapał dla mnie taki jakiś ambians końca wakacji nad Bałtykiem. Atmosferę późnego sierpnia. Z kolei Morze czarne to nasze wspólne wspomnienie. Byliśmy dwa lata temu na takim fajnym road tripie po Bałkanach i spędziliśmy cudowny wieczór nad Morzem Czarnym, bardzo taki oczyszczający. A na takiej warstwie symbolicznej, morze kojarzy mi się zawsze z taką bardzo rozległą warstwą nieświadomą i te teksty, które piszę też bardzo często właśnie działają bardziej na na zasadzie skojarzeń, trochę przypominają sny. Słynne słowo oniryzm się często pojawia, gdy ktoś określa naszą muzykę. Morze jest więc dla mnie symbolem również tego, z czego te teksty wyrastają.

ŁŚ: No i “morze czarne” to nawet nie musi być nazwa tego morza, po prostu jego wygląd.

AC: To raczej nie jest toponim. 

MU: To znaczy, mieliśmy taką debatę, czy to jest odpowiedni tytuł, ale stwierdziliśmy, że to jest faktycznie też określenie jakie może dotyczyć morza, zwłaszcza, że Adrian rysuje w tym kawałku taki dość mroczny pejzaż.


Wszyscy jesteśmy sawantami


ŁŚ: Wydaliście swoją pierwszą płytę długogrającą i zatytułowaliście ją Sawant. Przyznaję, musiałem sobie wygooglować, ale teraz wiem, że to albo określenie człowieka, który jest wyjątkowo uzdolniony, albo może to być nazwa schorzenia. W zasadzie dokładnie tej odmiany autyzmu, którą najczęściej przedstawia się w  filmach, jak na przykład w Rain Manie. Kto dla was jest tym sawantem? Skąd w ogóle taki tytuł? 

AS: Wiesz co, ja myślę, że poniekąd wszyscy jesteśmy sawantami, jakkolwiek to nie brzmi. Dla mnie przynajmniej ten sawant to trochę opowieść też o nas, takie nasze nowe imię na tę chwilę. Bo wszyscy mamy czasem jakieś problemy w życiu, czasem sobie z czymś nie radzimy. Ale muzyka jest tym miejscem, gdzie ta nasza wrażliwość, która często sprawia nam dużo problemów, dostaje swój głos. 


ŁŚ: Jest w waszej twórczości też coś, co bardzo rzuca mi się w oczy: użycie symboliki religijnej. Mam nawet listę: w waszych kawałkach jest i piekło, bramy piekielne, i niebo, i anioł, chociaż diabła chyba nie, ale mogłem przeoczyć. Ze dwa razy pojawia się człowiek, który wisi na drzewie, jest korona cierniowa, liczba 7. A i same kielichy to też przecież potężny symbol religijny.

Zastanawiam się, czy to jest celowe zagranie, bo dodaje to odpowiedniego klimatu i pewnej gotyckiej atmosfery, a może to bardziej efekt tego, że w naszej kulturze po prostu tak często pojawiają się takie referencje?

AS: Nigdy nie było tak, żebym celowo w tych tekstach sięgał po symbole religijne, żeby jakiś klimat wprowadzić. Bardziej, wydaje mi się, że to ze względu na naszą kulturę i to jak bardzo emocjonalnie i symbolicznie są one nacechowane, że można odczytywać je na różny sposób. Bardzo mi się to podoba. Tak trochę po jungowsku do tego podchodzę, że często są to fajne symbole dla określenia różnych przemian, które w nas zachodzą. Plus do tego mam wrażenie, że do Sawanta pasuje ta nomenklatura religijna ze względu na to, że nasza muzyka jest muzyką rytualną. Przynajmniej tak jak my to odczuwamy, jak my to odgrywamy. Muzyka, która prowadzi do jakiejś przemiany.

Często bazujemy nasze utwory na jednej zmianie dźwięku, którą budujemy przez długi czas, co sprzyja wpadaniu w pewnego rodzaju trans. Mam wrażenie, że użycie języka religijnego jeszcze to podkreśla. 

MU: Mi się nasza muzyka kojarzy z doświadczeniem religijnym. Raczej stąd ta stylistyka tekstów wynika niż z jakichś gotyckich inspiracji, które, nie zrozum mnie źle, również mamy. Ale nie wiem, czy byś określił naszą muzykę jako związaną z, powiedzmy, subkulturą gotycką.

Bartosz Grygielski: Wszyscy czerpiemy z takiego mistycyzmu właśnie, wydaje mi się, bardziej na zasadzie radzenie sobie z tą naszą wrażliwością. Czerpiemy z symboliki, która pozwala to wszystko jakoś przepracowywać.

AC: No i myślę, że istnieje też taka paralela liryczna pomiędzy tym sawantem i nomenklaturą religijną. Bo to jest takie opozycyjne: sawant a więc ta piękna część, tak samo jak mamy to w sferze sacrum, jest przeciwstawiona tym pewnym zwyrodnieniem. Czymś grzesznym, czymś po prostu ludzkim. Myślę, że idzie to ze sobą w parze.

Sawant ozdobiony jest przejmującymi grafikami Darii Izworskiej    

ŁŚ: Na singiel z nowej płyty wybraliście Puste niebo i zastanawiam się, czy utwór z tak wiele mówiącym tytułem to jest jakiś wasz manifest światopoglądowy?

AS: Wiesz co, trochę tak. Wydaje mi się, że taki mocny fundamentalizm religijny kreuje mocną dychotomię: albo coś jest białe, albo coś jest czarne, nie ma nic pomiędzy. I ta piosenka jest trochę o tym, że albo jesteś na tym szczycie i wyżej jest tylko niebo, albo są te najniższe doliny. Druga część tekstu opowiada o tym, jak można gdzieś uciec w taką fantazję, że wszystko jest cudowne, piękne. Ale ostatecznie okazuje się, że to jednak tylko jakiś sen, jakieś odklejnie od rzeczywistości. Więc trochę tak, ale nie powiedziałbym, że to jest manifest. Wiesz, zadziałała tu taka organika i tekst po prostu powstał gdzieś przy okazji komponowania utworu.


ŁŚ: Powiedziałeś wcześniej o Jungu, o warstwie podświadomości. Czy to znaczy, że w taki sposób piszesz teksty? Poprzez strumień świadomości?

AS: Zdarza mi się często, że mam jakieś skojarzenie, które wydaje mi się bardzo trafne i fajnie pasujące do utworu i wokół tego powstaje reszta. Najczęściej jednak pierwsza powstaje warstwa melodyjna, ja łapię jej klimat i napływają skojarzenia.


Poniżej stu decybeli nie schodzimy. 


ŁŚ: Skoro mamy omówioną warstwę tekstową to muszę spytać jeszcze o gatunek. Czy wy w ogóle siebie widzicie, jakkolwiek w takim szeroko pojętym post-rocku? Bo na albumie są fragmenty bardziej gitarowe, bardziej noisowe, ale czy to jest w ogóle jest coś, co was inspiruje? 

AC: Poniekąd na pewno. Bo skoro rozszerzasz definicję tego gatunku tak, że zaliczacz do niego i nas, to możemy powiedzieć, że są wśród nich też takie zespoły jak Swans czy Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

Michał Warzecha: Z post-rockiem jest taki problem, że ten termin oznacza teraz pewną niszę. Jak słyszę “post-rock” to od razu widzę zespoły typu Explosions in the Sky. Kiedyś było to szersze pojęcie, teraz kojarzy mi się tylko z jego trzecią falą. Mimo tego, że z założenie post-rock oznaczał wyjście poza klasyczną rockową formułę, a więc naprawdę ciekawa sprawa. Zespoły typu Slint, Talk Talk, jeszcze pewnie Mogwai, to były bardzo ciekawe rzeczy, a potem mam wrażenie, że… jak coś po, powiedzmy, 2010 roku, jest otagowane jako post-rock to ja już wiem czego się spodziewać.

Więc teraz ten post-rock znaczy… No właściwie kopiowanie Tides From Nebula. Trochę ubolewam, że ten gatunek zamknął się na eksperymenty.

AC: To tak jak to jest teraz z post-punkiem. Nazwa tego gatunku zmieniła znaczenie. Kiedy zespół mówi, że gra post-punk to nic to dla mnie nie znaczy.

ŁŚ: Za trzy tygodnie gracie na OFF Festivalu. Graliście kiedyś na imprezie o takiej skali?

MU: Chyba jedyne festiwale, jeśli można tak to nazwać, na którym do tej pory graliśmy to była Muzyczna Jesień i wrOFF (showcase), ale to nie to samo. To były weekendowe albo jednodniowe sprawy, ograniczone z reguły do jednego klubu. Więc można powiedzieć, że to będzie nasz festiwalowy debiut.


ŁŚ: Jak do tego w ogóle doszło? 

MU: Napisali do nas. (śmiech) Nigdzie się nie zgłaszaliśmy, ani nic.

ŁŚ: To czego się w ogóle spodziewacie po OFFie?

MU: Na pewno cieszy nas slot czasowy, który dostaliśmy, bo mimo że gramy na najmniejszej scenie, to jednak o dwudziestej drugiej między Black Country, New Road a Flaming Lips, więc wiesz… super!

AC: Tak, ale forma i czas będą dla nas wyzwaniem. Będziemy mieli 30-35 minut na sam set. A takim naszym głównym założeniem, kiedy gramy koncert jest to, że my sobie lubimy te formy rozciągnąć i bawić się tymi piosenkami i dać sobie czas. Tu musimy to bardzo skondensować i skupić się na tym, żeby mimo wszystko trafić w sedno. Nie chcę powiedzieć, że zrobimy medley, bo to, to nie. 

AS: Pewnie zagramy dwa-trzy utwory w te 35 minut, żeby one po prostu miały czas, żeby wybrzmieć, żeby to jakoś zaczęło grzać.

AC: To jest największe dla nas teraz wyzwanie. 

ŁŚ: Będziecie pewnie zagłuszani przez Flaming Lips, którzy będą się soundcheckować tuż obok. 

MU: Ale my gramy raczej głośno! (śmiech)

AC: Poniżej stu decybeli nie schodzimy. (śmiech) 



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Kielichy zagrają na OFF Festivalu 7 sierpnia o 22:35.

Okładka wywiadu zawiera zdjęcie zespołu zrobione przez Darię Izworską.

ŁŚ Magazine: Kielichy EN



They'd just released an EP and already released their debut full-length album, Sawant. They've just released the album, and they're already working on another one. Wrocławskie Kielichy have abandoned the safe waters of neofolk and set off for uncharted seas. Where will they end up? Do they even know? Two weeks before their festival debut at the OFF Festival in Katowice, I managed to talk to the band in Kraków. It was a warm summer evening when we sat by the Vistula River and talked about what's Gothic about their music, what a savant is, and what will be their biggest challenge before presenting themselves to the general public at OFF.

In the Middle of the Sea


ŁŚ: In January of this year, your EP Punkty płonące ("Burning Points") was released, featuring the song Morze czarne ("Black Sea"), with the lyrics: "Let us sail on ships woven from dreams and search for new seas" and "we must finally destroy something to create some new places." And in June, you released your first full-length album, Sawant ("Savant"). Is this album the destination you've been sailing to, or are you still focusing on exploring the old places?

Adrian Szczecina: This text wasn't written with the intention of creating a narrative about our work. Honestly, I simply wanted to highlight some real-life topics. It's also a fun fact that this song was written after we wrote Sawant. So it's not like this album is going to define us for the next few releases. We're constantly allowing ourselves to explore, to find these new places.

ŁŚ: So, like in that song, you don't have a specific port of call?

Aleks Ciekalski: No, there's no conclusions, and I think we've come to terms with that. Our work is another example of how a journey is more important than its destination.


ŁŚ: But you said this album is a bit different musically.

AC: Yes, of course, we've gone a bit further on this album, and on the new release we're working on now, we're going to even different places. But it's not something we strive for at all costs: to change just for the sake of changing. It's more of a natural evolution. We live and experience new things, we listen to new music, we meet new people, and that's what pushes us to go somewhere else musically as a band and as a collective.

AS: Our tastes are changing, and so are our capabilities: we have more instruments now. No, we're not afraid to explore. What I'm also excited about is that we all like this element of destroying the old style. I suspect each of us derives satisfaction from having had to leave neofolk and that we're now on the high seas.

Mikołaj Uchman: This material wasn't created linearly either; for example, some of the songs on this album were written even before the release of the first EP.

AC: For example, Myśliwy ("Hunter"), which was completely rearranged. In the first version, it was a very, very neofolk song: all the instruments and rhythms were very neofolk. We rearranged it for this new version of ours, a new image, so to speak.

MU: Only the lyrics and chords in the chorus remained.


ŁŚ: Adrian, you said that the lyrics of Morze Czarne don't refer to your work, but listening to you now, I think they might.

AS: When writing this, I wasn't trying to create a narrative that would tell the listener what would happen to the band, what they could expect. Looking back, maybe it did, but that wasn't the intention.

ŁŚ: See, I was fooled; I automatically read it as a manifesto. You're heading somewhere, though. Can you briefly say where? Do you control it in any way, or do you just go with the flow?

AS: There's a certain aesthetic we have in mind. In a way, we wanted to abandon this crescendoing post-rock in favor of more primitive no wave, but it didn't quite work out.

MU: There are elements like that, but they've been embellished with other influences. No wave is very primitive, very rhythm-based, very dissonant.

AC: And that's why it's similar to neofolk in its formula. It gets exhausted very easily. It's good for an EP or two, I think. For us, it would quickly become monotonous and boring. So, despite that initial intention, we quickly abandoned it and realized that we simply needed to follow our natural flow. And then compositions appeared again that had a more extended structure, a broken meter, something that didn't resemble no wave at all. So I guess the conclusion is that it's completely out of our control, and that it's a good thing.

AS: On Sawant, in the last track, Schody wężowe ("Snake stairs"), there's already a slightly Middle Eastern feel to it. I think this foreshadows our next release, which, however, we don't know when will be released yet.

AC: So this element of absurdity, that everything is out of control and yet it's okay, is alive within us.

AS: We have to like the music we make. I guess that's the conclusion.

Kielichy at the beginning of 2026

ŁŚ: You just released a new album and you're already planning the next one?

AS: Well, it's all happening naturally. The production process for the last album was also quite drawn out. We recorded the material in April last year, but the entire process of overdubbing, mixing, and mastering didn't finish until winter.

ŁŚ: I'll go back to Morze czarne, because I won't deny that this song made an impression on me. On the first EP, you had Bałtyk ("Baltic Sea"), on the second Black Sea, and when I looked at the tracks on the new album, I was surprised there wasn't any sea among the titles. What is it about the sea that makes it such an inspiring subject for you, Adrian?

AS: Since I was a kid, I've been incredibly passionate about the sea and sailing in general. It's a bit absurd, because I'm from the mountains, but at least I live by a lake now. As for Morze Czarne, I feel like this song captured the ambiance of the end of holidays at the Baltic Sea coast for me. The atmosphere of late August. Morze czarne, on the other hand, is a shared memory of ours. Two years ago, we went on a great road trip through the Balkans and spent a wonderful, very cleansing evening by the Black Sea. On a symbolic level, the sea always reminds me of a very vast unconscious layer, and the lyrics I write often work more on the basis of associations, a bit like dreams. The famous word "onirism" often comes up when someone describes our music. So, for me, the sea also symbolizes what these lyrics stem from.

ŁŚ: And "black sea" doesn't even have to be the name of the sea, just its description.

AC: It's not really a toponym.

MU: Well, we had a debate about whether it was the right title, but we decided that it's actually a term that could describe the sea, especially since Adrian draws such a dark landscape in this piece.


We Are All Savants


ŁŚ: You released your first full-length album and titled it Sawant. I admit, I had to google it, but now I know it's either a term for someone who is exceptionally gifted, or it could be the name of a medical condition. Specifically, the very type of autism most often portrayed in movies, like "Rain Man." Who is this savant for you? Where did that title come from?

AS: You know what, I think we're all savants in a way, no matter how that sounds. For me, at least, this savant is a story about us, too, a new name for us at the moment. Because we all have problems in life sometimes, sometimes we struggle with things. But music is the place where our sensitivity, which often causes us a lot of problems, finds its voice.


ŁŚ: There's also something in your work that really catches my eye: the use of religious symbolism. I even have a list: in your songs, there's hell, the gates of hell, heaven, and an angel, although I don't think there's a devil, but I might have missed it. A man hanging from a tree appears about twice, there's a crown of thorns, the number 7. And the chalices ("kielichy") themselves are also a powerful religious symbol.

I wonder if this is intentional, because it adds the right atmosphere and a certain Gothic feel, or maybe it's more a result of the fact that such references simply appear so frequently in our culture?

AS: I've never deliberately used religious symbols in my lyrics to create a certain atmosphere. I think it's more because of our culture and how emotionally and symbolically charged those symbols are, that they can be interpreted in different ways. I really like that. I approach it in a somewhat Jungian way, in that they're often cool symbols for describing the various transformations taking place within us. Plus, I feel like this religious nomenclature fits Sawant because our music is ritual music. At least as we experience it, as we enact it. Music that leads to some kind of transformation.

We often base our songs on a single change of sound, which we build over a long period of time, which encourages falling into a kind of trance. I feel like the use of religious language further emphasizes this.

MU: I associate our music with a religious experience. This lyrical style stems from that fact rather than from any Gothic inspirations, which, don't get me wrong, we also have. But I don't know if you would describe our music as related to, say, the Gothic subculture.

Bartosz Grygielski: We all draw from this kind of mysticism, I think, more as a way of coping with our sensitivity. We draw on symbolism, which allows us to process all of this somehow.

AC: And I think there's also a lyrical parallel between the savant and religious nomenclature. Because it's so oppositional: the savant, this beautiful part, just as we have in the sphere of sacrum, is opposed by certain degeneration. Something sinful, something simply human. I think they go hand in hand.

Sawant features poignant illustrations by Daria Izworska

ŁŚ: You chose Puste niebo ("Empty Sky" but also "Empty Heaven") as the single from the new album, and I'm wondering if a song with such a telling title is some kind of manifesto of your worldview?

AS: You know, to a certain degree. I think strong religious fundamentalism creates a strong dichotomy: something is either white or black, there's nothing in between. And this song is a bit about either you're on that peak and above there's only sky, or you're somewhere at the bottom and there are those lowest valleys. The second part of the lyrics is about how you can escape into a fantasy where everything is wonderful and beautiful. But ultimately, it turns out to be just a dream, some kind of misplacement from reality. So it's a bit like that, but I wouldn't say it's a manifesto. You know, something organic happened here, and the lyrics simply came about while I was composing the song.


ŁŚ: Earlier, you mentioned Jung, the subconscious layer. Does that mean you write lyrics this way? Through a stream of consciousness?

AS: It often happens to me that I have an association that seems very apt and fits the song nicely, and the rest is created around that. Most often, however, the melodic layer comes first; I capture its atmosphere, and associations flow in.


We don't go below a hundred decibels.


ŁŚ: Since we've discussed the lyrical layer, I have to ask about the genre. Do you see yourselves at all in the broadly defined post-rock genre? Because there are more guitar-based, more noise-based pieces on the album, but is that something that inspires you at all?

AC: To a certain extent, for sure. Because if you're broadening the definition of the genre so that you include us, we can say that bands like Swans or Godspeed You! Black Emperor are also included.

Michał Warzecha: The problem with post-rock is that the term now denotes a niche. When I hear "post-rock," I immediately think of bands like Explosions in the Sky. It used to be a broader term, but now I associate it only with its third wave. Even though post-rock was initially meant to transcend the classic rock formula, which is a really interesting thing. Bands like Slint, Talk Talk, and probably Mogwai, were very interesting, but then I get the feeling that... if something after, say, 2010 is tagged as post-rock, I already know what to expect.

So now post-rock means... well, copying Tides From Nebula. I kind of regret that the genre has closed itself off to experimentation.

AC: It's like post-punk now. The name of the genre has changed its meaning. When a band says they play post-punk, it means nothing to me.

ŁŚ: You're playing at the OFF Festival in three weeks. Have you ever played at an event of this scale?

MU: I think the only festivals, if you can call them that, we've played at so far were Muzyczna Jesień and wrOFF (the showcase), but they're not the same. Those were weekend or one-day affairs, usually limited to a single club. So you could say this will be our festival debut.


ŁŚ: How did this even happen?

MU: They wrote to us. (laughs) We didn't apply anywhere or anything.

ŁŚ: So what do you even expect from OFF?

MU: We're definitely happy with the slot we got, because even though we're playing on the smallest stage, it's at 10 PM between Black Country, New Road, and Flaming Lips, so you know... great!

AC: Yes, but the format and timing will be a challenge for us. We'll have 30-35 minutes for the set itself. And our main goal when we play a concert is that we like to stretch these formats and have fun with these songs and give ourselves time. Here, we have to really condense the material and focus on hitting the mark. I don't want to say we'll do a medley, because that's not the case.

AS: We'll probably play two or three songs in those 35 minutes, just to give them time to fade in, to get the vibe going.

AC: That's our biggest challenge right now.

ŁŚ: You'll probably be drowned out by the Flaming Lips, who will be soundchecking right next to you.

MU: But we play pretty loud! (laughs)

AC: We don't go below 100 decibels. (laughs)



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kielichy will play at OFF Festival on 7 August at 22:35.

The interview cover includes the band picture taken by Daria Izworska.

piątek, 24 lipca 2026

Million Moons - You Be Good, I Love You (2026)


Another one of the post-rock "everything will be alright" entitled albums is here courtesy to the British outfit Million Moons. But unlike Lost in Kyiv's sweet and melodic synthpop of post-rock music from the last post, here we have guitar music with some real gravity to it. This is the kind of sounds you feel with your whole body when the artists want this.

And they want it very early on. My favourite track in here is actually the opening one: Titan of the Deep. Massive walls of sound waltz into the picture like the title's titans, giving away the feeling of grandeur and importance. It's not the darkest music though, the subtle but unmistakable keyboard balances the weight when needed, adding to the beauty of the release. And this balance is maintained throughout the album with some tracks getting closer to the melancholic side of things while others impressing with the sheer loudness of the guitars. 

The artists point out that the music on the album should be paired with experiencing nature, listening to this kind of post-rock in some kind of monumental environment (like... mountains I guess) should indeed be spectacular. Indeed, the monumentality of the music is perhaps the most important aspect of the new release. I still have the guitar blizzard of Secret Histories playing sweetly in my ears (and that makes me forgive them the jazzy passages in Memories of a Past Life;)).

You Be Good, I Love You costs 11 EUR (9 GBP).

Check: Titan of the Deep
Country: UK
Genre: guitar post-rock



czwartek, 23 lipca 2026

Lost in Kyiv - We're All Going to Be Fine (2026)


The release of the 5th album from the French band turned out to be the perfect occasion, in the artists' eyes, to have a small lifting to their name. Small but significant, as the outfit, closely tied with the Ukrainian nation's struggles and war effort, decided to honour this and from now on use the Ukrainian way of spelling the country's capital's name. Consequently, the new album kind of got lost (sic!) in this commotion. And it shouldn't be the case, cause they band never disappoints.

Lost in Kyiv are almost perfect when it comes to making "modern" post-rock. One that is both melodic and impactful, with heavy use of synths and some unorthodox elements to the compositions. Within this subgenre, they manage to be very exciting while always delivering what is supposed of them. This post-rock is heavy, but not too heavy, it's melodic, but not too melodic, modern-sounding, but also not deprived of emotions. I love Burst with its synthy flow, Eclipse for its glitchy moments and Euphoria for its... well, euphoric vibes. This is not going to be THE best post-rock album of the year for me, but it certainly will be one I'll be coming back to a lot. But not to the track with Rebecca Need-Menear's vocals. Sorry, it just doesn't agree with me.

Interestingly, the album's title really fits the trend of hopeful and warm messages sent by post-rock(ish) artists. Suffice it to say, only this year we had Million Moon's You Be Good, I Love You or VLMV's There Will Come Soft Rains. I guess this is ONE way of responding to today's world, especially when you are (like LiK and like me) emotionally invested in a brutal war we have here, in Europe. Cheers to the trend then.

We're All Going to Be Fine costs 5 EUR.

Check: Burst
Country: France
Genre: modern post-rock
Label: Pelagic Records




wtorek, 23 czerwca 2026

Kielichy - SAWANT (2026)


Kielichy were featured on the blog already this year, but it was BEFORE. Back then, the Punkty płonące EP heralded a change and now we can already witness where the artist's discovery voyage landed them. SAWANT, called after the French for "scholar", but also a medical condition which is basically how autistic people are presented in media, album makes a huge impression from the beautiful cover art up to the lyrical and musical parts of the compositions.

I can see some similarities with one of my favourite albums of the recent times: Pothamus' Abur with similar weight put on the atmosphere and spirituality that comes from some kind of religion but ultimately is more than that. And when the psychedelic and sacral atmosphere is set up, here with the unhurried pace, dense guitars and characteristic vocals, the post-rock wall of sound appears out of nowhere to make the compositions' gravity even more emphasized. I have already said it a couple of times this year, but this is a good time for Polish dark psychedelic projects and this album is another prove to support the claim.

I've seen their music being described as "gothic post-rock" now and I can see why: it's not only the slow and moody music, it's also the themes. The band's name being the Polish word for "chalices" (which I read now in a very religious, perhaps ironic way) is one thing, but the lyrics all over SAWANT are very strongly leaning towards the mysterious and the religious with references to the importance of blood (Pieśń robaków), heavens (Puste niebo) or an entity hanging from a tree (Wisielec). But, judging from tracks like Puste niebo (which means "empty skies" but also could mean "Empty Heaven"), the religious here is just a decor, but if you employ it, you become part of it. Hence "gothic post-rock".

SAWANT costs 5 EUR (20 PLN).

Check: Puste niebo
Country: Poland
Genre: gothic post-rock





Band photo by Daria Izworska.

piątek, 5 czerwca 2026

Den Der Hale - Larking About (2026)


Den Der Hale is a band that has been very close to this blog for several years now but because of various reasons, never appeared here. This had to finally change cause earlier this spring, the Swedes released an album that shows a) some fantastically atmospheric music and b) what a change a band's sound can undergo in a short time. If I really had to judge, it's a change for good.

As they describe it, the sound of Den Der Hale's music underwent some major changes (also due to the line up changes) and for this album turned from more traditionally rock-based to experimental with "tape loops, resampling, and acoustic instruments" playing the major role here. The results are spectacular. While the previous albums had this kind of psychedelic rock with post-rock elements charm, Larking About is more about the silent parts, the passages that slowly build up to some kind of resolution and that create atmosphere that is as mysterious as it is exciting.

Everything on this album is less in your face and more subtly suggested. The unnerving atmosphere, the whispering vocals, the feeling of anticipation. The heavier parts are scarce but it only makes them more poignant, requiring more attention from the listener to properly experience everything from the instrumental ambient to the airy choirs to the post-metal pinnacles of the compositions. Heavy (even if not very loud on average) and very artsy (but not pretentious) album.

Larking About costs 7 EUR.

Check: Silphium
Country: Sweden
Genre: artsy post-rock
Label: Sound Effect Records



czwartek, 4 czerwca 2026

Hanry - What Came From Silence (2026)


So it happens that two major contenders to the post-rock AOTY are being posted on this blog right after another. But while Kokomo's already recognized powerhouse within the genre, the French Hanry only just debuted with their album What Came From Silence. Not to mention that they could hardly be more different musically while still being more or less within the same music genre. So after the ruthless guitar heaviness yesterday, it's time for sublime and cinematic electronica-based post-rock.

Among their inspirations, the band lists shoegaze and trip-hop and you can really hear it from the first notes of the album. There is at least a perfect balance between the guitar and the electronic sounds with a heavy emphasis on the synth's presence. I feel like this is the French post-rock's specialty but unlike in Dragunov's and, especially, BRUIT ≤'s chaos, Hanry offer mellower, softer approach to the subgenre. More towards Lights and Motion than The Age of Ephemerality if you catch my drift. This doesn't mean that there is no more intense parts on Hanry's album though. The focus is clearly put more on the cinematic than the noisy.

What I love in their music is the flow the compositions offer: the synth-heavy and noisy parts (Remains! Time's Collapsing!) that capture you and leave you no choice but to follow them until a satisfying closure. The more I listen to it the more I feel like it really is BRUIT ≤ minus the weirdness, making it way easier to appreciate the intriguing soundscapes and electronic beauty the band creates, especially in the synths department. One more great reason to travel to this year's Pelagic Fest in the Netherlands. 

What Came From Silence costs 5 EUR.

Check: Remains
Country: France
Genre: electronic post-rock
Label: Pelagic Records



środa, 3 czerwca 2026

Kokomo - Whip (2026)


Last month, at dunk!festival I witnessed tons of incredible gigs thrown by fantastic artists, but it was Kokomo and the monument of a show they created that was the biggest positive surprise for me. It's not like I hadn't been expecting it to be a great concert, it was just so much more. And now, when I listen to the Germans' 6th album, I revisit this moment and I'm certain that this is one of the best post-rock gems of the year.

And it's already been a lot of them! But Kokomo's album is somewhat different. The band is for me first of all the "bear album" guys and yes, If Wolves is still one of my highest rated post-rock albums ever, but since 2011 Kokomo are constantly evolving and Whip seems to be the pinnacle of this evolution from atmospheric, but also melodic and more traditional guitar-centred post-rock to pure atmosphere built with guitars. There is a difference, I assure you. At least I can hear it. It's more like a walk through a cathedral than listening to music for me.

The clue of this music now is the atmosphere generated by a unified wall of guitar sound in which you can hardly hear particular elements but you focus on the heaviness of the whole instead. This is introduced very early in the single track A Torinói Ló and doesn't really stop until the end of the release. Of course this, together with frequent additions of metal-like vocals that do not constitute the focal points of the compositions but rather signal the highest-tempo, most ecstatic moments of the music, this puts Whip probably closer to post-metal , but who cares about labels? What is important is that the music here is spectacular.

Whip costs whatever you want to pay.

Check: 1758 Times of Weird Sadness
Country: Germany
Genre: heavy post-rock/post-metal
Label: dunk!records




piątek, 29 maja 2026

Sagor Som Leder Mot Slutet - IV (2026)


Friends and foes (although they seem to have stopped saying that), the new album from Sagor Som Leder Mot Slutet just dropped. And it did drop to the very bottom of the planet chasms as it is "inspired by the core of the earth" with music heavy as our world and just as beautiful. This is one of the albums that effortlessly mixes the melodic and the overwhelming kinds of post-rock to create a one of a kind experience.

The heavy and poignant post-rock sub-genre has already made a mark on this year with Syberia's new release. But it seems that the relentless, never-giving-up guitar music is in great shape as the Swede's *checks notes* fourth album is most certainly just as good. Dark as basalt, heavy as granite but also hot as molten lava and filled with the same strange, forbidden beauty. The way the surprisingly frequent melodic parts are paired here with powerful, overwhelming sound avalanches is truly inspiring. It works very well especially in the longest tracks (like Strävan that finishes with the airy, folk-like sequence or Karg's mining-like mesmerizing riffs). 

The inspirations for the album are pretty obvious. The Scandinavian landscape and atmosphere even exaggerated with the notion of the unfathomable weight of the Earth's rock core. And you can feel it in your bones, but most probably it's only a trial version compared to what the live performance of this album will.

IV costs 11 EUR (120 SEK).

Check: Rot
Country: Sweden
Genre: heavy post-rock




niedziela, 24 maja 2026

ŁŚ Magazine: Nate Shumaker (The Burning Paris)



They started the band at the start of the century only to go on hiatus a few years later. In 2023 The Burning Paris announced their comeback with a new album Everything is Broken & I Don't Feel a Thing and pronounced it even louder with Last Leaves last year. I had a pleasure to talk to Nate Shumaker, the vocals, the guitars and the heart of the project that was one of my first approaches to post-rock back in the days. We spoke about the breakup and the comeback, about the silver lining of sadness and melancholia in their music and about what they mean by saying that what The Burning Paris do is "quiet music played loudly".

But we started about this moments when something feels like...

...Meeting an Old Friend


ŁŚ: Do you know this feeling when you meet a person and you realize that you used to know them and you used to like them very much. And it's so nice when you discover that they didn't change that much. So basically that was what happened to me and The Burning Paris. When I realized that you are playing for this year's Post. festival, I realized that “Coral City Ruins” was an album that I used to listen to a lot! And I have to say that I probably pirated it back in the day. Sorry about that.

So you had a fan in Poland, which I guess is...

Nate Shumaker (The Burning Paris, Dry Bones, Eksi Ekso, Everdown, Lavinia, On Fire): That's a pretty big deal because the first album was like... We didn't know anybody in the scene we were in. At first we had no idea what we were doing. You know, a lot of us have come out of emo and hardcore bands that happened to break up around the same time. But me and Josh [Megyesy], the original guitar player, had always wanted to do something with no distortion. We just wrote all these songs like that but, we didn't even know if we were doing anything that anybody would like. We just kind of did it. We were into bands like Mogwai and Early Day Miners and Low. And that's just kind of how we found it, you know?



ŁŚ: Yeah, I can hear that. I have also other bands in mind, but it's probably because I'm a little bit younger. I hear Her Name Is Calla a little bit. Also, maybe Piano Magic?

NS: Yeah, yeah, yeah, you said that in your review. And I love Piano Magic too. I was into all the old 4AD stuff a lot. 

ŁŚ: I can’t actually imagine a type of music that is further away from emo and you're playing it right now. Probably not on the lyrics front but certainly with the form. So how did it happen? 

NS: Yeah, well, I've always liked lyrics that are depressing, you know. We were loud in our old band and I sang in that band too, but I don't think I was really good at it, singing in a loud band. I mean, people liked it, but it just didn't feel comfortable to me.

I always wanted to do something that has more range than just always distorted, always loud rock. I just felt like there was something more we could do instrumentally and Josh is a really good guitar player so we decided to try that. And then Jenny [Townsend] had her band broken up, so we asked her to play cello with us. So it just kind of fell into this thing. 

We didn't really know what we were doing, but we did well enough. We went on tour a couple times. And then, you know, it's like when we had finally kind of disbanded the first lineup. Josh, Jenny and I went on and did the band On Fire, which was also on Magic Bullet.

ŁŚ: What happened? Was it only like “let's go ahead and move with our own projects” or was there something else?

NS: Some of us were just not on the same page. Josh and Jenny and I decided we're going to go do what we wanted to do. And the other guys wanted to do something different. I don't really remember how it all went down. We still are friends. And so out of respect for them and what we were doing, we changed the band name. But all the songs that ended up on the On Fire record weren't going to be Burning Paris songs. In four years a lot of different lineups came through On Fire too. So by the end of it, it was just me as the only original member. So we changed the name to be a different band entirely. You know, that was called Eksi Ekso.



ŁŚ: Right, I know Eksi Ekso!

NS: I was only on the first album. Then I started a band with Phil [Jamieson] from Caspian and Josh from the Burning Paris that was called Lavinia. And we made a couple of records for The Mylene Sheath. That was cool. But then nothing was happening for a few years. I moved back up to the Northeast from Philadelphia during the pandemic, Jenny and I started playing together again. We just kind of naturally put it back together.

ŁŚ: You simply  just came back together to play as The Burning Paris.

NS: It just kind of just fell back into place. We were going to name it something different, and then we just decided this is dumb. Let's just call it The Burning Paris.

ŁŚ: And good thing you did, because that’s how I could find you back!

NS: Yeah, exactly, because a lot of label people I was talking to were like “nobody wants to break a new band anymore!”. It's too hard, you know.

ŁŚ: So, the sound did not change that much, which is surprising, right? Because it's been 20 years!

NS: Yeah. And we all did different stuff. You know, not everybody kept playing in bands. We just kind of vibed off each other and went with it. felt good just to write a bunch of tunes, see where they fit, and just work it out. But we had no idea if anybody would care anymore. We just did it and apparently people still liked it.

ŁŚ: So you are seeing this as a real continuation of The Burning Paris, right? Even though there have been changes in the lineup and you have had other experiences. But it still feels like the same band.

NS: It is in a lot of ways because we've known that newer guys, like Jon and Brad, we've known them from way back. It's not the same, but it's a continuation. I think we've all played a lot more, so I think we might be better players and know how to make records better than we did back then. At least I think they sound better because, you know, back then we had no money. There was no label support. There was nothing. It was just us. trying to make records with Matt Squire, who is now famous as a producer, and he was barely starting out, so we had no idea what we're doing.


The Things That Changed


ŁŚ: Except for the quality of the recording process, is there anything else that feels different?

NS: One thing is I really did not want to use distortion at all back then, period. I just wanted nothing to do with it. And now I think we're a little more open to that, as long as we're selective with it, you know? A song like “Arsonist” would never have been on an old record. 



ŁŚ: So in a way, you're getting more post-rockey.

NS: I think so. Back then I thought you can be heavy without distortion. And now it's different. It adds a different dynamic. I think we're just a little bit more thoughtful about how we write stuff now, I mean, we still play a couple of the older tunes once in a while, but the newer stuff just feels more thought out.

ŁŚ: I noticed that Coral City Ruins and the following EP, it’s not possible to find them anywhere. The only thing is a compilation of the tracks on your streamings. So that's why I thought that maybe you don't want to take this heritage of The Burning Paris and make it your own right now. But you're saying that it's not the case.

NS: No, It's like actually after we'd broken up back in the day all the old The Burning Paris stuff was out of print and Magic Bullet had expressed interest in putting it back out again. But we didn't want to put out two different CDs for a band that didn't exist. So we just put it all in one thing. And I didn't have the art files anyway, so I just redid it. You know, files get old, computers change, you lose stuff. It wasn't like we were on some major label where they hold on to all that stuff. But it's fun that, you know, I never even looked up our stuff on Spotify or Apple Music or anything ever until like 8 years ago I noticed that it was on streaming. I had no idea because I hadn't been paying attention to it. And I saw that “In Ruins” has 30,000 plays or something. And I was kind of like, who are these people? Where were they? 


The Paris That Is Burning


ŁŚ: I'm very nostalgic over this album, because I remember how I discovered it. It was still these times when I paid attention to the names of the projects. Is that weird? I think it's kind of weird, but I like the name of the project and that's why I wanted to get to know more about it. I mean, if I were to dig into this, you could possibly say that it's maybe like Paris as the symbol of art and it is burning. So there could be a statement in this, but I guess it’s not the case?

NS: There wasn't. We were trying to come up with names and it's really hard to name a band. It's not even fun. Somebody never likes it or none of you ever like it. Or in two years, nobody likes it. But then it just becomes a name. If you think of Radiohead, that's a really dumb band name. You just don't think about it anymore. I thought it was a play on the movie Paris is Burning, but, also, back then everybody was putting “The” in front of everything. I think it made it more like a moment versus an action: like a sentence versus an ongoing event. But right now it's just the name of the band.

ŁŚ: There is also a notion of a tragedy in this. It suits the themes in your songs, right?

NS: Our words aren't happy, but… There's always a little bit of hope, always a little bit of silver lining. I think it resonates with people in many ways because it's okay to be in a bad mood, but also know that it's not forever, you know?



ŁŚ: The comeback album's title is “Everything is Broken & I Don't Feel a Thing”. If that was an album by The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die, it would be so perfect!

NS: For a period of time, I was hanging out with Phil from Caspian, and I had just spit it out one day. He was like, what would you name your next album? And I said this, and I just made it up. I thought it was funny and he wanted to steal it but I said no, you can't have it. I don't know. It was about a time in my life when things were really uncertain, just me and my cat and a bunch of stuff. It just fell right there. It’s maybe snarky or tongue in cheek, but it made me laugh and the rest of the band let me do it.

But it’s not a broader commentary on reality, nothing like that. It's more personal. It's about relationships, about how when something feels perfect, it doesn't mean that it really is. Like everything can feel broken, but you can feel numb to it at the same time. It felt like I'd just thrown all this stuff, energy into something, but it still didn’t work. 

ŁŚ: So your lyrics are based on your experiences?

NS: Some are based on moments of time, you know, like little bits of things. There's rarely a whole narrative of something. It's the little moments that you can remember,  something like, walking in the woods or with somebody or, you know, waking up next to somebody. Or even the moment of going on a walk by yourself and thinking of the notion of what's bigger in the universe, what else is there outside of us, things like that. But that's not all sad. Some of it sounds more sad than it is, but it's not all just depressing to be depressing.

ŁŚ: Yeah, it's the silver lining, right? This is a phrase that you use a lot.

NS: Yeah, exactly. Silver lining is a great word for that. Heartfelt things can be emotionally heavy, and I think they don't have to be either positive or negative. Sometimes you can feel both at once, you know.
Sometimes I feel like the best songs out in the world are ones that you can feel really happy listening to. But also, if you're really sad, they work too.

I think that's a tough song to write. I don't know if I've ever done it, A song that can make somebody feel good but also relatable when it's bad too. 

ŁŚ: The fact that people can relate to a song, it should help them, right? It should tell them that other people also feel like this.

NS: I hope so. I mean, we played on Friday night and there was a nice girl who was talking to us and saying that she had heard one of our songs on a playlist somewhere and she felt something about it. And now she comes on our shows. She just found it on some playlist, this is very inspiring to me. I don't want to be the guy that makes people cry all the time, but if you can relate to it, if it makes you feel good, that's great.

I think our songs will always have some feelings to them, it's not like we're going to sing about cars or mowing the lawn or something like that.

We like to bring a mood to it, and I think it works. We're all pretty fun people. We're not moping around sad all the time, but this is where we put feelings, where we put ourselves into. We take it seriously, but we can joke about it too.

I don't really know what the songs are going to be about until I start writing things down and then they kind of just take shape. But sometimes, if I can have one line to grab onto and use, then I can move, make it a thing. I'm not really concerned if anybody else makes sense out of it too, I like to just leave the lyrics a little bit abstract. I think that nobody cares about my individual moment in time specifically, they might want the idea of it but that’s it. It's like painting, you know, everybody can interpret it however they want.


Sounds and Colours


ŁŚ: Oh, I wanted to ask about this too! Because I understand that you're also a visual artist. I've seen that you work for Caspian on their cover arts.

NS: I have in the past, yeah. I designed a bunch of stuff. I did a lot of album covers, for other bands and labels too: Caspian, some reissues for Warner Brothers records. And then Type-O Negative’s “Bloody Kisses” issue. Random stuff like that. I also do our stuff. 



ŁŚ: I love “The Last Leaves” album cover! Is it a painting or a photo?

NS: Thank you so much, that really means a lot. It's a digital collage. I took a photo of that bush out somewhere. And then I just turned it black and white and layered all these weird things on it and mixed it together. And the front layout is actually an accident. When I was laying out the spread, I accidentally moved the whole piece so there was that space on the right side, and I didn't realize it. And then I was like, actually, I kind of dig that. Then I put the type there, and then I let the cover bleed over the back.

ŁŚ: It looks like some kind of very old photography technique.

NS: Yeah, no, it's not actually. It's a lot of digital layers. It's just a photo from my iPhone. It wasn't that exciting.

ŁŚ: Do you think creating visual art and music is similar in any way? I don't create any music, so I have no idea how it translates, but I’m sure there must be some common ground.

NS: I think there's definitely similarities because in music, there's layers, there's nuance, there's different things that have to all work together. Layering a song together is like layering art together, but I guess it depends on where you're starting with it. Some songs come together really easily and other ones don't. It's just it depends what you're creating it for.

ŁŚ: I was thinking about your description of creating this artwork for “Last Leaves”. Creating something very easy and simple at first and then screwing around it. Is it also the case in creating music?

NS: Yeah, I think so, especially that we have six people in the band. There's a lot of that. One of us, Chris or Jon or I or Jesse, can bring in an idea and it can start out one way and end up totally somewhere else. “Arsonists” is a prime example of that. When I wrote that, it was just myself and a guitar and it ended up being heavy and loud, like a shoegaze song. That's not how I wrote it. But it works and it’s because we all did it together.

ŁŚ: So do you always have to collectively agree that something works?

NS: Yeah, we do now. Back in the day, it was less of a collaborative thing, I had to push a little harder to make it what I wanted to be. But now, we all know what we want it to be and we're okay with pushing the envelope a little bit further out here and there, which is cool. Plus we're a lot older and we're not as grumpy as we were.

ŁŚ: You're becoming less grumpy when you get older? That's the other way than it should be.

NS: Well, I think we're grumpier about different things now. Back then we were really a lot pickier, but now it's like we kind of feel lucky that we can still do this and have fun with it. 


The Burning Paris at Sinclair, photo by Kim Maroon


The World Is a Beautiful Place?


ŁŚ: Talking about things that changed, the world has changed since the first album of The Burning Paris came out. Does it feel different?

NS: Sure. I mean, the world itself, definitely. We barely had cell phones when we were down the first time. It's like, now everybody's got it. There was no streaming music. Vinyls were around, but they weren’t as popular. CDs were everything. Attention spans are a lot shorter everywhere, social media made that happen. Streaming music made it easier to just skip around, it's like you really have to earn it to get somebody to not just find you, but actually want to commit to listening to it, you know?

ŁŚ: You do write long songs, but not that long.

NS: We had a few in the back in the day that were a lot longer, but not that many. We like the five or six minute mark. That's a good spot.There's sounds that I've heard other people make and I'm like, dude, this is 13-minutes long. Stop it. What, are you a doom metal band?

ŁŚ: I was thinking more like Godspeed You!Black Emperor.

NS: Yeah, OK, that's different. They're doing more like an orchestral piece. And we're kind of like mixing that with more of a pop sensibility, not really pop, but mixing a halfway point. We don't make them shorter collectively or consciously. We kind of learned  that it isn't always cool to have a long song, just to have a long song. If you've said all you have to say in 3 1/2 minutes, be done with it. That's fine. Move on.

ŁŚ: The world’s changed also in another way. The whole situation in the world right now is kind of getting more, I'll say, depressing. When you follow the news and everything. Do you feel like the themes you are writing about in The Burning Paris, are they more fitting to this world right now, or is it the other way around? Because maybe we are not focusing on emotions possibly as much as before. Rather just observing what's in the world.

NS: I mean, as far as our music goes, I don't think the world outside affects it much, because the stuff that I'm writing about or that we're doing as a band is personal. We don't write songs about politics or the state of the world or wars or anything like that. We just don't do it. I mean, we have our views and we're all on the same page, as you can imagine, we're not super pumped on what our country is doing right now. Godspeed is political. They're out there, they're liberal, they're anarchists. We have those emotions in places, but I'm not gonna get up on a stage and tell somebody how to live their damn life either, you know?

ŁŚ: Yeah, I understand. I was more thinking about the listeners perspective. If they’re still interested in those more personal feelings or are they more focused on what's going on around them. Are they maybe too distracted and worried for self-reflection?

NS: Yeah, I see what you're saying. I don't know, I just try to keep it about what I can write about. I guess it could be reflective of something happening in the world, but I'm not going to let it be known for that. I like to keep it vague, you know. 

ŁŚ: And you mentioned that you met someone recently, right, who said that your songs resonated with her.

NS: I didn't ask her why it resonated with her. I just let her think about it. She didn't ask me what it meant either. I think that's important. The lyrics are a little bit vague, you can apply that to anything you want to.


Quiet Music Played Loudly


ŁŚ: I really, really like the description of your music that you put somewhere online: that it is quiet music played loudly. What exactly do you mean by that?

NS: Well, I think back in the day, when we first started, the songs sounded a lot quieter, you know, mellower than anything we'd ever done. We always played it at a loud volume, always. I wanted people to feel it. When I saw Mogwai for the first time, I remember it was one of the loudest things on earth. You could feel it in your chest.



ŁŚ: I know. I've been to my Bloody Valentine concert and it's a physical, you know, it's a physical experience.

NS: Yeah, you get it. And Mogwai is like that too. I mean, it's the only time I've ever gone to see a show. where I had earplugs in and my ears were still ringing the next day. But it's so good because you're just in it, it's like you're in the sound. We're not as loud. Our music might put you to sleep at night if you're listening to the old stuff. But when you come to see it live, we're going to make you listen a little bit harder. 

ŁŚ: Have you ever been to Europe touring?

NS: Not with the band, no. I hope we can get over there at some point. It's hard for us, we all have jobs and lives. We have to get a pretty good deal to go over there.

ŁŚ: I understand. But you're playing Post. festival this year!

NS: Yeah. And maybe someday Dunk! will have us over too. 🦢

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You can find The Burning Paris records at: 


The Burning Paris will play Post. Festival in Indianapolis, Indiana on July 24. 

The cover art included a picture of the band performing live at Trinity Beer Garden, pic by Diana Caetano.