*100 copies limited edition* I went looking for a dictionary definition of brutalism, trying to understand it a bit better. It had been our starting point since the first rehearsal. But did we actually understand it? Does any of it have something to do with our music? Does it even make sense — instrumental pieces inspired by buildings?

We didn't set out to make a genre out of it. We set out to strip things down. Take a melody, take a rhythm, cut away everything that isn't essential — no polish, no ornament, just the raw material. Beton brut. Raw concrete. Surowy beton. Twelve million people in Poland live inside prefabricated blocks — the same staircases, the same smell, you know the one. Elevators that grind and screech, haven't seen a mechanic in years, their own little noisy soundscape.

Now picture someone landing on the roof of one of these buildings for the first time. No memory of what it's for. Just enormous grey shapes stacked into the sky, a giant's Lego set, dominoes the size of city blocks. That's the record. Not a joke about concrete, not a lecture about architecture. Just us trying to notice what's actually there.