WoWaKin are also possessed by, and respectful of, the rhythms of their region.
The trio offers an array of foxtrots, tangos, polkas, oberkas, and more on their debut album. WoWaKin are comprised of Paula Kinaszewska (violin, vocals);
Mateusz Wachowiak (accordion); and Bartlomiej Wozniak (drums and sound design). Their repertoire borrows from the Polish areas of Kielce, Radom, and Sanniki. Wozniak has a background in theater; Wachowiak has classical training;
and Kinaszewska has honed her violin playing under the tutelage of master folk musicians, who have passed on their mazurkas to her. WoWaKin provides a wide variety of musical styles that are also open the group's improvisational style.
A standout example of WoWaKin's exploratory side is “Wieniawy,” an oberek that is fleshed out with trumpet playing. The tune is playful and cinematic, and the addition of brass kicks the Polish countryside into spaghetti western territory. In addition
to the traditional songs and dances, WoWaKin have something of the experimental cabaret about them. On “Jaźwiec,” Wachowiak's accordion pumps away; Kinaszewska's violin runs echoing lines that seem to lurch slightly off-kilter,
and then Wozniak introduces clopping percussion and dulcimer. It's a spicy, thick mix that despite its wildness remains just under control. The band has chosen songs that veer between the sadness of lost love, and the leering fug of desire. Lyrically, the songs often juxtapose images and details of life in the countryside with blunt emotions. The polka “W nocy o połnocy” (“In the night at midnight”) presents us with a lover demanding that his interest, Kate, come visit and turn “your right side
to me.” Kate will not do so, however, owing to her having a headache; she has given her maidenhead away. The man crassly excoriates Kate; following this, she makes the jarring demand: “I'll order that all the chairs on which you sat to be thrown out.” Indiscretion is a wedge to domestic harmony, and, apparently, to furniture.
WoWaKin also include a lullaby, “Kolysanka,” which starts off sing-song-y sweetly; but, the discord of the taraban playing underneath lends a tone of unease.
“Rock-a-by rock-a-by little cradle alone/Cause your mommy is serving the landlord” seems to bristle with entendre. On WoWaKin's Kraj za miastem, the traditional ways often yield the unexpected. Kapela Maliszów and WoWaKin both manage to sound much larger than their trio arrangements. The dance rhythms explored by both groups can be unfamiliar enough to unmoor time, but they are still tethered
to Polish traditions. These are fiercely rural albums that shake out old pathways for modern sensibilities. Percussion crashes, band members whoop in delight:
the Polish roots scene bears closer watching as these new, essential folk stars explore new galaxies.

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