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If you’re looking for somebody to adequately explain to you what Trupa Trupa does, I’m not that person. All I can do is try to provide some impressions because I really don’t have anything to compare it with. It’s bits and pieces. It seems chaotic but you always feel a structure. It can be aggressive. It can float and dream. It can do both in the same song. There really aren’t any rules going on here. It’s kind of like trying to define what Syd Barrett was doing with Pink Floyd before he went off the deep end.

Philosopher-poet Grzegorz Kwiatkowski’s lyrics deal with fundamental questions of fighting evil, in a homeland that has experienced more than its share. This hardcore moral stance is matched by the baleful, seething rock of opener “Moving”. But respite is offered by the scratchily pretty, Sonic Youth-like psychedelic ballad “Lines” and Floydian acid-folk of “All And All”, as Trupa Trupa’s sixth album favours often lovely, mysteriously ritualistic sounds. The dreamy vocal and abrasively chiming guitar on “Sick” are also narcotically dislocating. Kwiatkowski’s words stay sunk deep in the title track’s mix, the submerged poetry of an underground band who carry a courageous subculture with them.

Nick Hasted, Uncut