Wij - Bluzg (EP, 2025)
By Flork
I’ll be the first to admit that Bluzg caught me completely off guard. It dropped quietly last Thursday, May 15th, and I would have missed it if I hadn’t had my Spotify playing in the background. But there it was, a notification that the Polish Trio from Bielsko-Biała/Warszaw had a new release—an unceremonious arrival for what turns out to be Wij’s most exhilarating release yet.
I’m also no stranger to this group, whose name, by the way, translates to centipede in English. I discovered them quite by accident while searching for Wijf, a Belgian band I had reviewed a couple of months back, and decided that their name was worthy of my attention as well. And like Wijf, Wij hooked me solidly, like catching a swordfish in the Gulf of Mexico (Note that I wrote Mexico). Przestwór took number one spot on my library and still remains high up there (now slowly getting inched out by Bluzg). I couldn’t and still can’t help but admire how they came up with such a massive, textured sound with just three members: Tuja Szmaragd (vocals, lyrics), Palec (guitar), and Bob (drums). And this EP? It feels like Wij has torn up their own rulebook and then went ahead and ate it, while later spitting it out into a microphone.
With around 13 minutes of sound, Bluzg is a fierce departure from the speedier and groovier sounds of Przestwór and Dziwidło. Gone are Tuja’s raw but relatively clean and almost operatic vocals. Here, she unleashes a chaotic, gremlin-like rumble (at least I think it’s her who is singing) that feels closer to a possession than a performance. Nie patrz w dół (Don’t Look Down) opens the Ep and sets the atmosphere, lurching forward like it‘s about to fall apart at any second, only to be stitched back together by Bob‘s fast and solid drumming. One song careens into another with no warning: a nihilistic sprint through stoner rock, hardcore, and touches of death. Śmierć jest nie w humorze (Death Is Not In the Mood) is an amazing song—just try repeating that 5 times in a row and you’ll understand why Polish is the perfect language for heavy hardcore rock and metal.
There’s one track near the end of the Ep that I particularly like, although the title’s written in Sanskrit and Spotify won’t let me copy and pate it into Google Translate, so let’s just call it “Track 5“. This song totally blew me away. It‘s dizzying and weirdly hypnotic, like falling down a spiral staircase made of guitar strings and feedback. Tuja sounds like her old self again, although I have nothing against the screeches and grumbles on Bluzg (which, by the way, translates to „gush“ in English. She‘s in a vocal space we’ve never really heard from her before, whose performance is unpredictable and often unsettling, since she rasps, croaks, and screams and manages to weave it all together in ways that feel transcendental. If the earlier albums were a desert hallucination, then Bluzg is the fever dream that follows. Even lyrically, though I don’t understand Polish too well and only catch some of the phrases between the distortion (you have to listen very sharply if you know another Slavic language in order to understand anything—having a name like Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz couldn’t have been easy), the mood is darker and more immediate.
It’s also worth emphasizing that Bluzg is not a typical stoner-doom record. If you came expecting long, fuzzed-out jams, you’re in the wrong room. These songs are fast and intentionally brief. I’d say there’s almost a grindcore-level brevity to them, with most tracks clocking in around the two-minute mark, yet still managing to feel full and unrushed. It’s a pretty cool feat of efficiency, much like a sonic boom that somehow feels cinematic. Even the outro Cała wstecz (Full Reverse) feels deliberate in its abruptness, as if the band were yanking the power cord out before the building burned down.
And the Florkman’s prognosis? Coming off my recent review of the 4-band compilation Warsaw After Dark (see Jablká ďaleko od stromu), which showcased a broad spectrum of Poland’s alternative talent, Bluzg feels like the raw nerve underneath it all—a concentrated adrenaline shot that reminds me of why I dig deep into local scenes in the first place. It’s reckless, brave, and fully alive. A definite 10 out of 10. These guys have amazing talent and know their way around a studio. For now, Bluzg will definitely satiate my appetite as I anticipate their next full-length release.
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