In these modern times where precision often replaces passion, Oranżada’s Salto feels like a rare breath of fresh air. Salto is pure musical instinct, an unfiltered somersault through the smoky echoes of Krautrock and the electric shimmer of psychedelic improvisation. It is, quite simply, an amalgamation of sound, intuition, and sheer joy of playing. Oranżada, a band from Otwock, Poland, has quietly carved out a space of their own over the last two decades. They have always defied easy categorization. With Salto, they leap into the unknown and land gracefully on the other side. This is their sixth studio album, but it feels like a new beginning. It was recorded live in the studio, born out of a spontaneous session meant to soundtrack a 1970s-style Italian horror film. But what emerged was something far beyond genre or purpose, a fluid and fearless work of art. The album is almost entirely instrumental, but it speaks volumes. It hums, it drifts, it crashes. There is a strange and wonderful logic to the way the music unfolds as if the band is communing with something beyond themselves. Salto doesn’t unfold like a traditional album. It breathes. It pulses. It stretches and contracts like a living thing.
This is music with a long lineage. One hears echoes of early Can, the haunted beauty of Popol Vuh, the tension of Ash Ra Tempel. But Oranżada is never derivative. They are interpreters of a language that is ancient and electric. Their guitars wail and whisper. The drums move with instinct, not calculation. The keys hover like mist over a dark landscape. And always, there is the feeling that anything could happen, that this moment, this sound, might veer off the edge of the map. And yet it never does. Salto is held together by a kind of invisible thread, spun from decades of collaboration. The four musicians, Robert Derlatka, Michal Krysztofiak, Maciej Labudzki, and Artur Rzempoluch, know one another’s impulses in the same way dancers know breath. What could have been chaos becomes cohesion. What begins as a jam becomes a sonic voyage. The title Salto, “somersault,” captures the spirit of this record perfectly. It’s an acrobatic feat, dizzying yet graceful. It turns the ordinary upside down. It is a celebration of movement, of freedom, of creative risk. There is no script here. Only sound in motion. This is not background music. It is not passive. It asks the listener to lean in, to follow strange paths, to get lost and found again. And those who do will be rewarded with something timeless. There is a trance-like quality to the way Salto unfolds, but it is never dull. Each track feels like a new corner of some forgotten dream, glowing in colors just beyond description.
The production, captured on a humble eight-track tape recorder, is warm and immediate. It feels intimate like you’re in the room with the band. You can almost hear the room breathe. You can feel the joy of discovery, the silent glances passed between players, and the sudden bursts of laughter as something unexpected clicks into place. It is human, in the best possible way. Released by Audio Cave, Salto comes in a variety of formats, CD, classic black vinyl, and a limited yellow edition that feels especially suited to the album’s sunny, surreal energy. For vinyl buyers, there’s even a bonus CD with two extra tracks, an extra dive into the band’s dreamlike world. There is a kind of magic at work in Salto. It reminds us that music does not always need to be perfect to be profound. That sometimes, the most meaningful art comes not from planning, but from presence. From being in the room, with your instruments, your friends, and an open heart. Oranżada is not trying to impress. They are not chasing fame. They are not interested in algorithms or streaming metrics. They are simply making music, honestly and freely, as they always have. And Salto is a record that reminds us why that matters. It is a document of a moment. A leap into the unknown. A somersault in sound. And it is beautiful.
Thoughts Words Action 