Gary Gwadera is the solo project of Piotr Gwadera—a composer, improviser, drummer and anthropologist; a dreamer from the city of Łódź, Poland. Known for his versatility and unique artistic voice, Gwadera effortlessly brings a surprising character to any musical context, whether it’s rock, punk, electronic, experimental, jazz or free improvisation. In recent years, he has emerged as a leading drummer on Poland’s nationwide rural traditional music scene, where he is renowned for his “outstanding freedom in using triple rhythms in jaz* playing.”
You’ve recently returned from Japan, where you performed at the Osaka edition of Unsound Festival. How was your experience?
It was my first time in Japan. The stay was short but very intense. I lived right in the heart of Osaka, in the Shinsaibashi district. I didn’t have time to visit tourist attractions, but I did attend many concerts and events at Unsound Festival. What struck me was that in every venue—whether a small club or the VS Museum—the sound system was excellent. The same was true during our concert with RP Boo, where the technical crew was outstanding. Honestly, it was how things should always be everywhere, but unfortunately, in Poland, there are often problems with sound quality at concerts 🙁
Another thing that captivated me was the food. Osaka is considered the culinary capital of Japan, and just like with the sound quality in clubs, from breakfast at the hotel to lunch at a restaurant and ending with dinner at some street food spot, the food was always delicious and light. After every meal, a smile would appear on my face.
Two important senses for me—hearing and taste—were satisfied in an exquisite way. I definitely want to return to Osaka in the future for a longer stay to see all the places I’ve read about or heard of from friends.
You are a composer, improviser, drummer and anthropologist. How do these various roles intertwine in your work—especially regarding the role of the musician and anthropologist?
It’s impossible to separate these roles from one another. All of them are equally important in my artistic work. Drums are my main instrument, but it’s not just rhythm that determines my music. Sonoristics is also very important to me. I’m a collector of sounds, and I have a sizable collection of old, junk village drums and vintage analogue instruments from the Eastern Bloc. Combining them with classic sounds, such as those from the TR-808, forms the foundation of my work.
My creative process looks like this: First and foremost, the story is the most important to me, because storytelling is the essence of human communication. It’s based on my anthropological knowledge and the review of source materials. Once I have that, I look for sounds and samples, which, in the case of traditional music, are essential to me. I configure new setups, often composed of old drums and old analogue electronic instruments, but I don’t shy away from digital devices either :). Once I have this base, I improvise extensively, record, and listen back to the recordings every day, selecting interesting fragments. In this way my pieces are created.
Besides electronic music, you’ve also been involved in the traditional music scene in Poland as a drummer. Can you talk about these two seemingly antithetical worlds?
During the communist regime, the historical continuity of Polish folk music was interrupted. The industrialisation of that era and the promise of social advancement for rural populations caused people to feel ashamed of their origins—including their music—which was pushed into staged performances by song-and-dance ensembles playing a stylised version of it. In countries such as Azerbaijan or Armenia, we can observe the natural absorption of contemporary instruments and electronic sounds by traditional musicians. In Poland, the gap left by traditional folk music was filled by disco polo—a blend of Italo disco, Eurodance, Russian disco, and street songs. Disco polo is also a mirror of the rapid capitalist transformations in Poland in the 1990s. In my piece “Trzeciak’s Head”, I touch on this topic. It tells the story of a forgotten village drummer who, during the heyday of disco polo, finds himself no longer needed and becomes somewhat resentful of the world, somewhat disdainful of it. Yet at the same time, as a musician, he has an open mind and is fascinated by the new electronic sounds. Therefore, in the privacy of his home, he tries to combine the old with the new. This piece is a manifesto of my creative stance toward traditional music, which I love, although the world has already moved elsewhere. One must use this legacy with great reverence yet present it in a new way that resonates with today’s listeners.
On your 2024 album, Far, far in Chicago. Footberk Suite, you merged the Polish style of oberek with Chicago footwork. Can you talk about this release?
“It’s nothing else but a Chicago-style oberek!”– that was my first thought when I heard the compilation Bangs & Works, an album that introduced the footwork style to a global audience. At first, I was drawn by the triple, syncopated rhythm, based on the iconic sounds of the Roland TR-808 drum machine. My musical explorations have long been centred on the triple rhythms of rural Poland. The clash of this archaic, distinctly Polish form with the freedom of the underground electronic sound from the Black suburbs of Chicago seemed, aesthetically speaking, to hit the perfect spot.
As an anthropologist-dreamer, I also imagined that the presence of a triple rhythm in Chicago—home to the largest hub of the Polish diaspora in the USA—was not a coincidence but the result of a meeting between our native musical tradition and the musical sensitivity of the Black community in the United States. I must admit that this hypothesis was, and still is, purely my musical dream, unsupported by any scientific evidence.
However, regardless of the actual roots of this fascinating phenomenon known as footwork, it’s hard not to notice certain correlations between footwork and the Polish oberek tradition. In both cases, this is music meant more for dancing than for listening. It’s supposed to present a certain musical and rhythmic challenge to dancers, who can test themselves in a fun-oriented setting where competition is an integral part. In Polish villages, these are the traditional battles of village bands, while in Chicago, they’re footwork battles in underground clubs. In both oberek and footwork, the most important elements are a sense of community, energy, and excitement built around dance, accompanied by a characteristic triple pulse.
The footberk suite “Far, far in Chicago” is intended as an imagined musical journey through time and space, where the Polish oberek and Chicago footwork find a common ground in dynamic, triple rhythms. I aim to show that the syncopated rhythm of the mazurka (or of the oberek) can sound just as contemporary and bold as the beats created for Chicago dancers. The composition is meant to be an auditory tribute to both cultures’ dance spirit and their sense of community. It’s an attempt to capture the emotions that accompany both footwork dancers and participants of rural dance parties—spaces where music and dance become tools of self-expression.
The merging of traditional and electronic music has become popular in recent years. How do you approach it technically and practically, as well as aesthetically and conceptually (ethically)?
In Poland, most of society has peasant origins, and in recent years we’ve observed a folk turn in the humanities. My grandparents also came from villages in the Kielce region. A dozen or so years ago, I became fascinated with Polish traditional music. I started visiting still-living village musicians, took part in dance gatherings, and began anthropological studies to gain a broader perspective on the subject. For me, it was essential to thoroughly understand traditional music and its cultural context before undertaking any variations on it or deconstruction. This is the most important principle I follow—beyond that, it’s a matter of sensitivity.
What are you currently working on?
Following our collaboration with RP Boo, we’d like to release an EP, and that’s what mainly occupies me now. Besides that, I’m shaping an idea for a new album, where I’d like to work with disco polo, which fascinates me as a Polish cultural phenomenon.
*jaz (pol, “Dżaz”) not jazz. A minimalistic drum set that appeared in Europe after WWI along with American jazz artists. It became popular in the Polish rural music scene after WWII.
Interview by Lucia Udvardyova
Photo Marta Zajac Krysiak