Ancient ocean, you are the symbol of identity: always equal to yourself. Essentially you never change, and if your waves are somewhere lashed into fury, elsewhere they are stilled in the most complete peace. You are not like men, who linger in the street to watch two bulldogs tearing at each other’s throats but who hurry on when a funeral passes; who in the morning may be reasonable and in the evening evil-tempered; who laugh today and weep tomorrow. I salute you, ancient ocean!
Tomasz Stanko received one of the tree honorary prizes 2014 given by the ‘Preis der deutschen Schallplattenkritik’ (PdSK), an independent association of more than 140 journalists from Germany, Austria and Switzerland, as it was announced on January 15th in Bonn. With the award the jury acknowledges Stanko’s lifelong work as Polands most important jazz ambassador [...]
(Waves) follow one another in parallel lines, each separated from the next by a brief distance. Scarcely has one subsided than another swells to replace it, to the accompaniment of the melancholy sound of breaking foam, warning us that all is foam.
"Les Chants de Maldoror" by Lautreamont