Warsaw Villagers Count Son House and Burning Spear Among Fellow Citizens

"I'm a big fan of this tradition," says Wojtek Krzak, prime mover of Poland's Warsaw Village Band.

How you expect him to finish that sentence may depend on what part of the band's new album, 'Infinity,' you're listening to at the time. The way he actually does finish it is: " ... the blues."

That might be a bit of a surprise if you've heard only 'Wise Kid,' the opening track of the band's third album, 'Infinity.'


Warsaw Village Band, 'Wise Kid'


It's a piece built very much on the Carpathian mix of strings (led by Krzak's fiddle), voice (by his wife and WVB partner, Maja Kleszcz) and insistent percussion. Interpreted through some broader sensibilities, sure, with its rich harmonies and layered ambiance. But it's still very much Polish folk music.

Fast-forward to the fourth song, 'Skip Funk,' though, and Krzak's statement is almost a given.

Warsaw Village Band, 'Skip Funk'


The title itself is a giveaway, of course (not to mention the parenthetical credit billing of "featuring DJ Feel X"). The scratched beats come from a lineage with origins that would seem to be far from those of the fiddle tunes.

Krzak, though, means his blues reference in regard to all parts of the vibrant collection.

"I can find these elements in tunes that are different, and with instruments that are different," he says by telephone from his Warsaw home. "But the main thing is the same. That's why when I listen to people from the Delta of Mississippi -- Son House, Mississippi Fred McDowell -- and then listen to traditional Polish recordings from the last 50 years, I can see similarities. It's extraordinary, I would say, but normal. This is universal music. I cannot see the big difference in the main energy of this music, from Poland and Africa or the Delta and so on and so on."

Maybe it's not that much of a surprise after knowing that this young man of 27, who grew up in a town about 70 miles from Warsaw, learning music from players who came from long lines of tradition, notes that his ultimate musical hero is none other than reggae mystic Burning Spear -- whom he has had the great pleasure of meeting when the Jamaican was in Poland lat year.

"He was my influence," he says. "Maybe strange, but I really loved that spirit. Even though sometimes might think it is so far from Poland to, in this case, Jamaica. But in fact it is not so far. With Burning Spear, I could find this element of spirit that I heard when I was listening to the traditional Polish players."

It's just a matter of orientation, he says. "This is what I like in music: history. I am an anthropologist when I am looking at culture, a thing without beginning and end. So I like listening to musicians with history. History, geography, everything."

Testimony to his claim is that though in some circles this album is being viewed as the WVB's most "world" album, it's also the one in which the various elements are most fully integrated. In fact, if you're not really paying attention, you might not even notice some of the transitions in and out of funk, hip-hop, Jewish, African and even some modern folk-pop styles until they've already happened. It's a seamless, and nicely gimmick-free, flow.

"It was very natural," Krzak says. "We have good knowledge of the past, but we are modern people living in the capital. It was easy. It was not hard work, to be honest. Very natural. Sometimes when you are lucky and you are doing something natural, you cannot feel any problems. It was a lot of hard work -- composing and recording and mixing, one year of hard work. But so natural that I would not say it was trouble. It was a real pleasure."

And Krzak is kind of willing to leave it at that. Maybe it's because he and Kleszcz are in the glow of new parenthood, maybe it's just his nature. But he is not a man on a mission to redefine Polish folk music, or to become a name brand for an overlooked culture.

"Not at all," he says. "To be honest, I don't care about this at all. When we were working on the album and thinking about the concept, I never thought about Poland and Polish culture. Nationality and everything connected with nation for me is not important. More important is the 'human being' culture. We have never wanted to establish the 'Polish market' for this. Warsaw Village Band has nothing to do with identity. When I am playing in England and there are Poles in the audience, I can see for them it is important. The English people are there and Poles are there, and the English people are listening. And to the Poles that is important. For me, I don't care about this. I just think about the music.

"It is dangerous to start to think, 'This is Polish from Poland and Polish culture.' No, it is just music of young people living in a big town, having a good time with music of the past but wanting to create something contemporary and don't care about the 'Polishness' of the music."

On the other hand, he notes, that attitude is rather true to the roots. "The history of Warsaw is really strange because of [World War II], because of big problems of the last 50 years. It's really hard to find people who are from Warsaw for three generations or anything. It's a strange place. Even David Bowie, when he was here [in the '70s], it was so sad for him that he wrote the song 'Warszawa.') This is the spirit of Warsaw."