It’s as though Optimal has hacked a digital time machine with "Rolling Stock", transporting listeners to the gritty allure of late 90s breakcore, jungle, and ambient paranoia. Pawel Starzec, who helms this project, revives a heady era with an edge as jagged as the beats, while the grimy pulse and caffeinated rhythms beg to be heard through a haze of strobe lights and anti-establishment nostalgia. Known also for his projects Centralia and Industry Standard, as well as his role in bands Mazut and Mazutti, Starzec is no stranger to excavating sound from the underground. "Rolling Stock" is a compilation of tracks initially released digitally in EPs, now fittingly revived on Rope Worm - a label that embraces the “not-quite-vintage” aesthetic.

From the very first track, “No Future Yes Past”, it’s clear we’re not just in for a nostalgic romp; Optimal’s take on this era is as unnervingly current as it is retro. The track titles read like a dystopian manifesto: “Get Paranoid”, “Chemical Warfare”, “You’re Being Watched”. There’s a kind of ironic humor laced through this album, as if Starzec is winking from behind the machines, saying: “Yes, the 90s were intense, but were they ever really over?”

In “Please Let Me Sleep”, there’s a dizzying cycle of beats that borders on the oppressive. The track weaves an exhausted lullaby, tapping into the relentless hum of a sleepless mind. It’s a standout moment, where the frenzied breakcore vibe gives way to something hauntingly personal - an invitation to find solace amid insomnia.

“Take Care of The Machine” could be a directive to all of us, and it’s hard not to picture the looming shadows of industrial relics, the machines that built (and maybe broke) modern life. The track carries a kind of foreboding energy, while “Rolling Stock”, the title track, stomps along like a rickety train rattling through dilapidated landscapes, its pulse as steady as it is ominous. Starzec’s knack for invoking these gritty, almost visual scenes makes "Rolling Stock" feel like more than an album - it’s a kind of auditory photo essay on disillusionment.

“Snare Buzz” and “Wasteland” might be the closest we get to anthems on this compilation. “Snare Buzz” is a short but relentless burst, mirroring the hyper-kinetic jungle style of 90s breakcore that still makes us want to move, while “Wasteland” is the sound of everything decayed, the post-industrial silence after the party. It’s beautiful in its bleakness - a reminder that even the ruins have stories to tell.
Perhaps the most personal nod is “Pohled z Okna Mého Ateliéru” (“A View from the Window of My Studio”), which grounds the listener in Starzec’s world, offering a quieter, reflective moment. It’s as if the listener is peering into his workspace, his mind, seeing the world through his eyes for a moment before being thrust back into the relentless rhythm of “Metylphenidate”, the album’s last and aptly named track. Like a pulse of restless energy, it closes the album in a jittery, half-wired haze, leaving listeners slightly out of breath and wondering if they’ve just woken from a dream or a manic, caffeine-fueled all-nighter.

In "Rolling Stock", Starzec doesn’t just nod to the past; he grabs it, tears it apart, and reconstructs it for today’s hyper-surveilled, alienated, yet stubbornly resilient audience. It's a soundtrack for the sleepless, for the exhausted, for those of us haunted by the ghosts of both analog machines and digital overload. It’s not just a throwback - it’s a mirror. And in it, we might just recognize ourselves.