Nisani: A Wild, Free Jazz Odyssey from 1999 Poland
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when jazz meets folk, rocks up a bit, and then throws in some world vibes for good measure, Nisani by Łowżył Tymański Klebba Chandran is your answer. Released under Biodro Records in 1999, this Polish gem feels like a fever dream of creativity that refuses to sit still. It’s chaotic, it’s raw, and at times, it’s downright messy—but isn’t that the beauty of free jazz?
Let me start with “Safona,” because wow, does this track grab you by the collar. The opening flute by Chandran dances around like someone trying to escape gravity. Then Tymon Tymański’s double bass kicks in, heavy and grounding, almost arguing with the flute. You can hear Zbyszek Łowżył’s drums lurking in the background, not so much keeping time as nudging everyone forward. By the time Tymański starts singing (or maybe chanting?), it all just clicks into place. There’s something primal about it, like an ancient ritual you didn’t know you needed to witness. Every listen makes me want to close my eyes and let the chaos wash over me.
Then there’s “Kontemplacja Brzucha,” which translates to "Contemplation of the Belly." How could I forget that title? This one feels more introspective, slower but no less intense. Katasia Klebba’s violin weaves through the mix like smoke curling out of a chimney—soft yet impossible to ignore. Subash Chandran’s percussion adds these tiny jolts of energy, like little sparks catching fire. And oh man, those moments where everything drops out except for the harmonium… they hit differently every single time. It’s like staring into space and realizing how small you are, but in the best way possible.
What strikes me most about Nisani is how alive it feels. There’s none of that polished sheen you find on modern albums; instead, it’s rough around the edges, unpredictable, human. Ewa Łowżył’s design concept mirrors this vibe perfectly—it looks like art made during a late-night jam session fueled by coffee and cigarettes. Even the photography has this unfiltered honesty to it, capturing the band mid-laugh or mid-thought.
Sure, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea. If you’re looking for tight structures and predictable melodies, you’ll probably walk away scratching your head. But if you’re willing to dive headfirst into the weird and wonderful, Nisani will reward you tenfold.
Here’s the thing: listening to this album feels like eavesdropping on a conversation between old friends who only half-understand each other—but somehow, it works. At the end of the day, isn’t that what music should do? Bring us together, even when we’re speaking different languages?
Oh, and fun fact—I keep imagining Tymon playing kalimba while balancing a pizza box. Totally unrelated, but now you won’t unsee it either.
