This is my second PINN DROPP album, a heavy prog band from Warszaw, Poland and since it came recommended by my promo associate Bad Dog Promotions, how could I resist the desire to check this out? Their debut Perfectly Flawed in 2018 was certainly not defective in any way, garnering favorable attention, as flamboyant guitarist and composer Piotr Sym certainly has a flair for dramatics that goes way beyond the mundane. Ably assisted by bellowing Mateusz Jagiello, whose voice may indicate a fond fascination for the classic heavy Brit prog tradition (you know full well who the usual suspects are, but I say mostly Tony Martin). The band is rounded out by Pawel Wolinski on throbbing bass guitar, who together with Kuba Mikulski pack quite the ever-present thunder and occasional lightning. Mirek Skorupski handles the keyboard colorations that provide the elegance to make the grade in terms of dramatic symphonic wherever needed.
A little injection of sonic Polish anesthetic “First Steps”, prepares the entranceway to the brazen “Unholy”, screeching forward with synthesized vipers coiling around the massive guitar/drum/bass assault that sets the foundational mayhem to follow. Constant shifts, upending swerves and sideway glances implant the arena-rock central theme, secular forgiveness leading to profane pain, as Jagiello gravelly vocals offer the threat of utter conviction. A beastly steamrolling heavy metal classic that is merciless, sparing no prisoners. The mid-section levels out into an extended axe solo that favours melodicism as opposed to the previous fury, yet unafraid to charge into wah-wah drenched pyrotechnical wizardry just to shove the point home, as if inspired by Vlad the Impaler. How more unholy can that be?
Faithful to the premise behind the album title, shrewd dramatics settle into the sinews of the slamming chords, even daring to toss in a Queen snippet that many will recognize, more in homage than brashness as “Point of No Return” certainly veers off into an entertaining tangent, where the liquid synths conspire to seduce the raging riffs. Oh, mamma mia, let me go! Jagiello flips a more sardonic slant into his singing, playfully avoiding cliches by keeping the focus on disposition as opposed to triteness. The keys are unafraid to loop wildly, a modern electronic inflection that bodes well for the track returning into the initial obsessive onset, a ripping low end fretboard solo that nastily remains muffled (Oooh, I love little details like that)
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I could have bet a boatload of zlotys that time has come for some even adventurous theatrics, an unexpected ballad perhaps and guess what? “Recycled Feeling” does exactly that, more in the Sylvan vein, a waltzing bass undertow full of pearly delight, a piano-led etude that keeps things romantic and elegant, as if the spirit of Chopin was in the studio. The main melody is crushingly grandiose, a masterfully poignant declaration of sentiments, a trait of Polish artistic tradition and culture owned in spades, as well as tears. Jagiello unsurprisingly hushes gracefully, and his tone is both loving and sincere, a pure joy to listen to.
Intermezzo time with the subtle soundtrack “They Are Here” , a clear semaphoric change in commands, as Pinn Dropp decided on another bombshell hurricane reboot. “Logismoi” thrusts forward like a tornado gone berserk, an 8-minute razor-sharp rampage where Kuba in particular bashes his percussive kit like a monster gone mad, (even supplying the creepy laughter), Sym grinding in sideways like a chainsaw, rhythm dependent to get the juices flowing and the adding a sizzling flamethrower solo on top. Jagiello loses his mind, at times on the edge of growling but its all done within the musical context as opposed to unnecessary dross for shock’s sake. They intertwine softer variations to soothe the frazzle, but this is another whirlwind affair.
The French Revolution becomes the inspiration behind the bustling “L ’Illumination”, a subject force-fed relentlessly by the Republique’s school system that I attended, so Danton, Robespierre, St-Just and the various slogans that guillotined into nothing more than the resurrection of the Empire come as no surprise. The domineering symphonics are coupled with the barricade-breaking riffs that shatter any complacency one might contemplate, the arrangement actually smooth, but with Jagiello bellowing an assortment of well-worn mottoes (Égalité, Liberté, Fraternité), while Wolinski, Sym, Skorupski and Mikulski charge into battle like a battalion of winged hussars. Brash, vibrant, thrilling, this is quite the revelation.
The obligatory epic is the 11 minute+ title track , a cinematic heavy neo-prog adventure that, while still meaty and deep, shifts the focus onto the lyrical content as well as a more sophisticated approach to composition. The stunning piano section contains a sense of both classical refinement and boogie-woogie bravura hitherto barely expressed previously (the exception being “Recycled Feelings). The sonic roller coaster travelogue is compelling, with a host of unexpected halts along the way, such as the sibilant acoustic guitar window that leads into a raging curtain fall, verging on self-harm. The extreme swiftness of passing from serene to manic is almost perversely exciting, the performers’ ability to emote on so many levels is astonishing. This formula of appealing doom is nothing more that the concrete reflection of today’s overall extremist-driven society and the social media factory that fuels all the mendacities(oops, I meant drama).
A fearsome mythical beast not too far from a hapless moose with a distorted lip and jointless legs, “Hugag” tackles a more folkloric legend that provides the opportunity for the band to mutate their stylistics into varied realms, Skorupski in particular injecting a series of oblique keyboard sonorities that astound. The mood is tense as this fairy-tale animal cannot ever lie down , monstrous and sad at the same time. Excellent off-ramp track.
The album rightly ends as it began, a solemn piano-led melancholia on “Last Footsteps” that crowns this unexpected triumphal album with grace, sweat, struggle and reflection, all welded into one giant “polished’ ball of music.
Looks like another Polish band has carved itself into our lives, and as always with my ‘bratanki’, it is nothing less than a musical blessing.
4.5 smidgeon beads