By DAVID TAYLOR
On the website for basic tourist information about Poland (masterpage.com.pl/tourist.html),
there are references to surviving World War II and Soviet Russian domination. "Poland
is a country of strong people ... heaps of rubble and bricks were sorted out, one by one,
and reassembled ... the Polish people rebuilt brick by brick ... They took pieces before
they could be stolen or destroyed, kept them hidden in their homes, returned them and
reassembled them. Now, look at the treasures."
There is a haunting parallel between recent Polish history, and
Polish progressive rock. Poland's own special brand of progrock got started in the '70s,
the same as most everywhere else. But unlike other prog-rock bastions, it didn't just
diminish during the 1980s – it disappeared.
Of course, the 1980s was a decade of tremendous upheaval in Poland,
when massive organized efforts brought down the infamous "Iron Curtain" of
Soviet Russian Rule. Concurrently, in the more "enlightened" capitalist
dominions, commercial / recording companies were purging their rosters of any pop music
that got too ambitious, favoring punk, new wave, disco - you name it - as they coveted
multi-million sales above all else. But in spite of everything, Polish prog-rock didn't
get totally destroyed. Just like Poland's other artistic treasures, it must have been kept
hidden somewhere, because the '90s have seen it reassembled, if anything stronger than on
the first go-round.
About that first go-round: The work of keyboardist/vocalist Czeslaw
Niemen is perhaps as good a place as any to begin. He shows up in connection with two of
the other major Polish prog-rock acts of the '70s. Playing alongside the usual complement
of drums and guitars, Niemen favored bluesy, improvisational compositions not unlike the
Grateful Dead in their Terrapin Station days. His 1974 effort, Aerolit (available on CD)
is as interesting as anything he ever released. He works the mellotron into three of the
five mid-length compositions, and there's a fascinating incorporation of Middle Eastern
sensibilities with the remaining two tracks.
More often than not, a typical Niemen piece goes from a bluesy,
crusty vocal passage into jazzy, albeit skillfully rendered musings, before the formulaic
reprise of the opening melody. File under "well-done-for-what-it-is," but of far
more interest are those two other groups with which he was associated.
According to the liner notes on SBB's second release (Nowy Horyzont,
1975 - now available on CD. together with Pamiec), the three members of that group
performed with Niemen before changing what the S, B and B stood for. In effect, they went
from calling themselves the Silesian Blues Band to Search, Breakup, and Build (Szukaj,
Burz i Buduj). Interesting how the idea of reassembling after a period of destruction
(breakup) occurred - the same as over 20 years later on the Polish tourism website.
Anyhow, keyboardist Jozef Skrzek, guitarist Antymos Apostolis, and percussionist Jerzy
Piotrowski were said to have been influenced by John McLaughlin with his Mahavishnu
Orchestra. Such influence certainly is heard in Skrzek's reliance on electric piano, and
the occasional lightning-fast ensemble passages. A lot more than jazz-rock fusion is in
evidence on SBB's several long compositions however, which range from nine to 20 minutes
on their recordings from the mid-1970s to 1980. Classical piano interludes occur between
the fusion passages on Nowy Horyzont. From the third album- (Pamiec, or Memory) on,
delicate vocals arise, close in ambience to those of the Italian group Le Orme. Also from
the third recording-on, melodic turns of phrase occur sounding more indebted to Tony Banks
than to McLaughlin. Also, one notes passages where smooth transitions from one idea to the
next recall the logic of classic Genesis instrumental breaks albeit stretched into a Pink
Floyd-ish leisureliness. Then, there are the many obvious Beatle-ish influences
through-out 1979's Welcome. SBB's most definitive musical statement might have been their
1980 release, Memento With a Banal Tryptych. For this more aggressive, less fusiony
effort, Niemen group veteran Slawomir Piwowar added his guitar work to that of Apostolis.
The opening track, "My Land of Dreams," goes through several transitions and
develops at a breakneck pace in contrast to SBB's earlier work, building to a frenetic
conclusion. The 20-minute title track threatens to go one better, providing SBB's answer
to Genesis' "Supper's Ready." But it's flawed by a rocking conclusion that is
more bluster than development. This remains good stuff, but leaves one wondering what
might have been had SBB continued to record.
Keyboardist Skrzek did go on for at least a short while, with a solo recording career of
mixed results. Most notable was Dominika, recorded right after Memento With a Banal
Tryptych. It consisted of two lengthy medleys not too far removed from the
"Memento" epic. This writer's favorite of the first wave of Polish prog-rock was
the other group with which Niemen associated himself, Budka Suflera. Niemen guested on
moog for this quartet's mid- '70s album, Cien Wielkiej Gory. Strong, brooding melodies
that seemed to manifest the misery of recent Polish history ... expressive, raspy vocals
by Krzysztof Cugowski, almost like a Polish Robert Plant ...definitive guitar and rhythm
section work ... starkly sweet string orchestra arrangements.
These elements all worked together to give Budka Suflera its unique
identity. After Cugowski left for a nondescript solo career, the rest of Budka Suflera
tried to keep everything intact. They were nowhere more successful than in the nine-minute
"Planeta Smoka" (Planet of the Dragon) on the 1980 release Ona Przyszla Prosto Z
Chmur. A solemn yet catchy passage is succeeded by a folky transition to a wonderfully
uplifting instrumental break. This leads in turn back to that opening melody, overlaid by
some excellent guitar licks for one of the better fadeaway conclusions.
Doubtless there were other worthy Polish progressive rock acts
during the '70s which did not receive as much attention as those already discussed here.
One of them most certainly was the quintet Exodus, with their two studio recordings. The
first one, The Most Beautiful Day (1980) seemed to emulate Yes, 20-minute epic title track
is by far the most successful effort at moving close to the symphonic rock edge. With
sweeping melodies (including a resolving theme recalling a variation on Czech composer
Smetana's "Moldau"), an energetic performance, and a tight if sometimes
simplistic arrangement, "Day" functions fairly well as a Polish "Close to
the Edge." Unfortunately, Exodus's second effort sounded like they were well into the
breakup portion of the SBB (search, breakup, build) sequence.
And then, silence (or noise of the punk, new wave-ish kind)
descended upon the Polish prog scene until the mid- to late-'80s. At that time, Collage
started touring with their own take on Marillion style neo-prog. Their 1989 release,
Basnie (Fairy Tale), was a reasonable effort in this regard. Like so much of the best
progressive, it did not shy away from incorporating homegrown influences, while remaining
full of world-class musicianship and great arrangements. Basnie became one of those rare
recordings in prog-rock history to enjoy a degree of commercial success in its homeland,
with the short but complex "Ja I Ty" getting radio airplay. But Collage's
compositional braintrust, guitarist Marek Gil and percussionist Wojtek Szadkowski, were
not to be seduced into artistic compromise. After a complete change in the rest of their
personnel and an experiment recording their own version of nine John Lennon songs, Collage
offered up Moonshine in 1994, on the now-defunct Dutch label Sl Music. Moonshine's
ambition dwarfed Basnie, with three of the eight tracks running more than 20 minutes each.
And almost everything segued into everything else. You know you are in for something
special when new keyboardist Krzysztof Palczewski lets his synths rip with a definitive,
ominous fanfare to launch the opener, "Heroes Cry." Also, the epics "In
Your Eyes," "Wings in the Night," and "Moonshine' are so packed with
melodies and dramatic settings, it seems petty to attach "neo" to this
particular progressive work. Even the shorter tracks succeed brilliantly, from the
evocative atmospheres of "Lovely Day" and "Living in the Moonlight,"
to the Beatle-ish anthem, "War is Over." The latter closes out this progressive
masterpiece on a terrifically hopeful note. With Sl's demise, Collage has continued their
recorded efforts on Poland's own Ars Mundi label, which has become the salvation of Polish
prog-rock. Just one year after Moonshine, Collage was back in 1995 with two full length
releases. Changes was a compilation of early versions of pieces to appear on Basnie and
Moonshine, as well as previously unreleased material, including a 7 minute track from
their first recording session in 1985. Not bad, but recommended only for the completist.
Collage's other 1995 release, Safe, was their all-new studio effort, as in, playing it too
safe. While Safe meets the same high recording and musicianship standards of Moonshine,
the compositions sound far more laidback, less intense. The same strong sense of melody
abounds, but the development is generally sluggish and at times tentative. Plus, some of
the lyrics call attention to their inherently hackneyed quality ("I love you, I
really feel it deep inside..."). Safe still is a very nice, recommended collection of
mellow neo-prog tunes. It's just that it suffers in comparison to Moonshine. One can't
help but wonder if it shouldn't have been left in the oven to cook a bit longer.
Not suffering in the least by comparison with Collage are their good
friends, Quidam, whose first release in 1996 on Ars Mundi sounds like a missing link
between the high drama of Moonshine and the relatively easy listening of Safe. Collage
guitarist Marek Gil even guests on one of the tracks. Collage and Quidam share a tendency
toward muscular ensemble work backed by aggressive string synths, that echoes Budka
Suflera's use of a string section to temper their hard-rock attitude. What distinguishes
Quidam's work are the occasional addition of flute, cello and woodwinds to the mix for an
even more orchestral flavor, plus Emila Derkowska's ethereal vocals.
As complex as this all makes Quidam sound, though, structurally they
are firmly in the neo-progressive camp. For example, the nine-minute opener
"Sanktuarium" - for all its beauty - at heart consists of little more than
verse/refrain and a mid-section instrumental theme. Everything on Quidam's eponymous debut
is very nice, but the standout showpiece is the 14-minute closer, "Ptome." It's
only minimally more involved than "Sanktuarium," but the arrangement milks the
strong melodies all they're worth, including a lengthy instrumental development the second
half. It leaves this listener anxious to hear their next effort, due out soon.
Taking a tack that owes more to Emerson, Lake & Palmer, early
King Crimson, and U.K. is Lizard, with their 1996 debut on Ars Mundi, W Galeni Czasu.
Vocalist Damian Bydlinski does an adequate Greg Lake with lyrics in Polish (same as Quidam
and Collage prior to Moonshine). But nothing approaches the level of ELP or the rest until
the fifth track and the 13-minute sixth track. "Ogrod Przeznaczenia" is a
descendant of King Crimson's soft jazz meditation, "I Talk to the Wind," with
synthesized oboe substituting for flute. Then, it's on to a deliciously ominous,
suspenseful string synth intro to a Celtic-tinged melody in the first part of the epic.
Subsequent passages set the stage for a spectacular concluding bolero. This writer is not
usually a fan of boleros. They often go on too long and are too simplistic and
repetitious. This one, though, packs a wallop and easily bests ELP's comparable effort on
Trilogy. A bonus track extracts the principal vocal in the epic for what sounds like an
attempt to stage a single for radio play. Overall, Lizard's first effort deserves a fair
rating, but its better passages and general integrity bode well for any future recordings.
The future is now for yet another Ars Mundi fellow traveller,
Mordor. Their new release, The Earth, is actually their third recording, but the first
where they are tempering their heavy metal attitude with some strong symphonic rock moves
a la America's own Braindance. Lead guitarist Dariusz Bafeltowski can match Braindance's
Vora Vor lick for lick, and keyboardist for Jaroslaw Malasiewicz knows how to lather on
the synthesizers. The Earth doesn't get quite as ambitious as Braindance's Fear Itself,
but the melodies and arrangements are rock solid, though leaning closer to Metallica where
Braindance edges towards Yes.
In a much lighter vein is another new Ars Mundi release, Music
Inspired By Tarot, composed and performed by a fellow named Nadhir on guitars, flute and
keys, and Artur Szolc on a wide variety of percussion. Here are 22 vignettes, none longer
than three and a half minutes, for those of you overdosed on lengthy progepics.
With an instrumental vignette for each Tarot card, none of the
compositions develop very far, giving the project a new age feel. This works well for the
opening, "The Fool," a charming little tune that doesn't really need to go
anywhere. But frustration sets in with such tracks as the Middle Eastern- tinged
"Hanged Man," for they fade off just as things start to get interesting.
As light and frothy as Music Inspired Tarot turns out, RSC's new
effort on Ars Mundi, Parakletos, is heavy and ponderous. RSC is a septet helped by guest
artists on backing vocals, additional percussion, trumpet, and tenor saxophone. Everyone
works together best on the 18 - minute opener. At a bluesy pace, lead guitarist Waldemar
Rzeszut lays down some wailings reminiscent of guitar leads for the Dutch groups Finch and
Focus, albeit jazzier and more laid back. Much of the band, plus the backing vocals, are
layered in behind the guitar. Then after this route has been exhausted, the percussion is
left alone to spar with guest trumpeter Boguslaw
Kolacz. Before this continues too long, the rest of the band joins
in. From there, the lead vocal weaves and bobs into something that, with the addition of
violin and more trumpet blasts, resembles After Crying or Robert Fripp's old big band
effort, Centipede. The entire composition could be summed up as Grateful Dead meets After
Crying, with the Dead winning out. The balance of Parakletos ranges in even bluesier,
jazzier directions. The repetition of certain motives can get tedious, with what little
melody there is just along for the ride. It often consists of depressingly descending
minor chords.
In a much more exciting, uplifting vein is the quintet Abraxas.
Their 1996 debut is on - you'll never guess - Ars Mundi. Their mid-length compositions are
energetic, colorful, and somewhat complex. There are no weak tracks, but the eight-minute
Tarot is perhaps the most representative of Abraxas at their inventive best. For the first
few minutes, across uncertain weather, vocalist Adam Lassa emotes so expressively that it
doesn't matter he sings in Polish. From the outset he establishes himself as one of
prog-rock's great vocalists alongside the likes of Peter Hammill and Ange's Francis
DeCamps. Then guitarist Szymon Brzezinski, percussionist Marcin Mak, and keyboardist
Marcin Blaszczyk on flute provide a great Middle Eastern rift transition to the next vocal
passage, followed by a telling guitar solo setting the stage for some hauntingly lovely
closing melodies.
The second Abraxas effort, the just released Centuries, is full of
gorgeously ornate, ambient-rich arrangements, but of compositions that just don't pack the
same oomph.
Former bandmate Lukasz Swiech apparently had a lot to do with the
high progressive and melodic content in the debut, as co-writer of several tracks. Now
that he's gone, though, we are still left (especially in the 12-minute
"Pokuszenie," which sounds influenced in spots by Led Zeppelin's
"Kashmir") with a decent neo-progressive workout. And we also are left with
plenty of hope and anticipation for the continued rebuilding of Polish prog-rock. Q