Me And That Man
爱与死之歌（豪华版）

"Songs ..." turned out to be commonplace before the grinding of teeth. I still hoped that the project would be pulled by "that man" - John Porter, an Englishman who had migrated to then-communist Poland forty years ago for ideological reasons and had previously been seen in extremely unorthodox electro-folk-punk-damn clear collaborations. But he, apparently, also could not - or did not want to. So no Polish Angry Johnny and the Killbillies even smells here. Upstairs from Johnny Cash, upstairs from the late Those Poor Bastards, plus a bit of Leonard Cohen, plus a pinch of Scrimin Jay Hawkins. Even the title of the release reveals the laziness of its creators. The problem is not even that it echoes Coen's "Songs of Love and Hate". It's all about banality - well, imagine a rap album with the title "songs about how I roasted your bitch." It’s just that every fucking country alternative singer and almost every orthodox bluesman sing about Love and Death, and how exactly they sing - this is where the fantasy comes in. Me and That Man does not have it - just a set of clichés. Here you have abandoned churches, here are flocks of bats, lovers who have died untimely, a bottle of bourbon on an old oak table cut by knives. Vampires, sirens, voodoo queens. Surely also werewolves - but that's not for sure. The only hypertrophic gloom of release is the best. True, here too our duet will be given a head start by a guy named King Dude - not an ideal comrade in terms of creativity, but he knows how to scare and twist figs in his pocket. Yes, and the Them Pulp Criminals mentioned above, although they specifically established it with production, were still able to present to the public something at least relatively original.