Čisté dlane from Výheň by Zvar

A low thrum from the 50 Hz kick anchors a raw soundscape, layered with a cimbalom’s warm glow and the fujara’s wide, reedy syllables. Contact mics pick up a quiet, rhythmic tick of chain and wrenches, mapping out the resonant space of the shop. This track follows an apprentice’s hesitant steps onto the floor, his soft palms meeting the heated air of industry. Lenka’s counted lifts, “1-2-3-zdvih,” become an insistent heartbeat, an innovative replacement for conventional song structure, drawing the listener directly into the physical act of work. The phrase “Držím žeriav, reťaz drží mňa” is first heard here, evolving from a hushed observation into a nascent vow, a communal rhythm claimed. It’s a stark exploration of identity forged within collective labor, showing the vulnerability of new beginnings morphing into a quiet, determined pride. The narrative unfolds, not just in words but in the very pulse of the music, illustrating how tentative excitement calcifies into a grip that refuses to yield. This initial embrace of the line becomes both prayer and fierce promise.

We hammer Slovak chants into metal, born of sweat and factory roar. Feel the rhythm, the grind, the honest heart.