Daj Ognia's music wanders between Poland and Scandinavia, playing at dancehouses, stypas and sacred groves. Along the way, they stop at painted gates in inns on the frozen Baltic Sea. They play to the feet and reverie of people from thatched roofs and asbestos roofs, interweaving the musical traditions of the north and south. They play old country tunes in their own anachronistic fashion, evoking moods from an imaginary village - a plebeian ruckus, echoes of rituals, cries of death in maidenhood and the stomping of bare feet on frozen soil. Weaving a musical tale, they use the sounds of archaic string lyres, traditional singing, bagpipes, drums and bones, weaving together into a melancholy yet uplifting sound.
Yoke is a dreamlike vision of a pre-apocalyptic world, foggy, cold and drowning in electro-waste, in which the oberek melody played a century ago by a village player at the edge of a field still resonates. And, as dreams go, an absurdly serene Stravinsky strolls past, chatting with Bach. With their sound, they are as much a reference to stoner rock as to Polish traditional music, finding their place on the stage of a smoky club as at a folk dance under a thatched roof. The debut album, which can be heard at concerts, is entitled Sativa (Latin for cultivated). Composed of original instrumental compositions, the creation is our diagnosis of the contemporary post-post-modern world, which would be summed up by the saying 'as you sow, so shall you reap'.