Robert Piotrowicz is, without a doubt, an uncontaminated artist. His dramatic abstractions – mostly born from the proficient use of analog synthesis – inevitably suggest references to a superior scheme of things gravitating around a logic of acoustic self-determination. Piotrowicz’s creative act is somehow “spiritually” connected with that of Roland Kayn; not in strictly musical terms but – especially – for the role of the musician as a human medium amidst similarly endowed beings. Perceiving the intrinsic order of complex systems and often spasmodic dynamics delivered from vacuous conceptual philosophies is not possible for people who find a raison d’être in the illogicality of unprincipled yackety-yak.
Euzebio is a splendid exemplification of the “enlightened sonic extremism” which translates the Polish composer’s conception. Five tracks for Serge and Buchla modular synthesizers, describing the variable evolutionary phases of an organism that, in effect, is shaped by pure sound. In fact, the reference is to the writings of philosopher Mircea Eliade, who defined the aforementioned creature as “the man who did not exist, yet still shook the forest”. The latter is a rather clear representation of what is heard, permeated by pulsating tremors, irregularly substantial rhythms, Richter-scale intensities.
On occasion, this writer tried in vain to mentally devise conjunctions and similarities (for example, “Euzo Found Guitar” involuntarily recalls Norbert Möslang’s puissant asymmetries). But it’s a silly exercise. What is actually needed is learning to flow inside the textural gravity, instinctively decrypting inherent signals and parameters in constant (and radical) transformation. Once the absorption of healing frequencies against the “been there, done that” virus is completed, nothing is going to stop you.
(To get a clearer idea of a Piotrowicz performance, take a look at this video. The music may be different, but the pneuma remains the same).