There’s an ever-so-growing space between the listener and music, a meaning co-created between the two. Sometimes it’s as though another organic psyche emanates from the notes’ core, like a shared reality with rhythm. While some musicians try to artificially bridge the endless gap, others stick to underlining that exact space, which in many ways resembles the seashore, veering from conscious to unconscious, from felt to embodied.

Jacaszek pertains to the latter category. At a first spin, names such as World’s End Girlfriend and Max Richter came to mind, but then it slowly transpired that, unlike the aforementioned, this Polish composer's Treny evokes a highly personalised response to what one hears, suturing the listener into another world, making him lose the plot of his own life even as it recreates the perfect soundtrack for all our interior film rolls.

Fluent and elegant, there is not a single moment of disturbance in Jacaszek’s music. Sparse to the point of minimalism, all 11 tracks underline every inch of every note, playing it again and again, carrying one’s mind to a faux climax, to that specific moment of tension that never comes. And yet they constantly elicit shivers and spine chills, making an incision to reach the most intimate feelings, displacing every thought and emotion. If anything, for 54 minutes you won’t be able to escape Jacaszek’s sharp blades cutting right to the bone; thus the strong organic character resides in the music’s unexpected stagnation.

Piano, violin, cello, electronics and harp act as aborted children of an infamous mother, separately screaming the silence that grows in them. Slenderly layered, the music tends to create a foundation and construct the rest over it, thus leading you backwards and forwards to the same outcome. To some extent, it is particularly difficult to follow its flow, for both divisions stand out. Moreover, each instrument behaves as a different entity, but they interact in a rather uncanny way, silently communicating through nostalgic vibes, like whispers in the hollows of a stringless piano.

Each minute of Treny recites a short story of loneliness; what brings them all together into a sophisticated and integral piece is the unworldly female murmur, dragging the listener into a now complete picture. Every now and then, there is a slight change of tone that cannot break into the stillness of it all, but allows for the discernment of patterns. The same sounds appear mirrored throughout the album, setting the calm disposition, leaving the well thought of impression of rearrangement when in fact the immovable pervades. For all that, Jacaszek’s effort transpires as a terribly feminine air: impalpable, yet intensely present.

Treny stays on the same tracks for almost an hour; undisturbed, unyieldingly emotional, never at a halt but perpetually cueing to standstills, to the monotonous whisper of the engines and the ever changing scenery, leaving behind distant sentiments and making one run off the rails of every train of thought.

-Diana Sitaru