With "Movement Three", That's How I Fight transports us to a place where time unravels, where every echo and hum is a sacred mantra. This album - crafted over hours of improvisational sessions by Gosia Florczak on synthesizers, Piotr Sulik with guitars and loops, Jacek Sokolowski on drums, and Pieczarka Franciszek wielding a lyra pipe, flute, and voice - feels less like a studio album and more like a spiritual rite. Each of the three compositions, simply titled “29”, “28”, and “27”, serve as enigmatic doorways into an intimate, almost shamanic communion with sound.

What’s unique about "Movement Three" is its open-ended form. The absence of a prescribed A and B side gives listeners free reign over where to begin or end their journey, allowing them to drift through these vast soundscapes without boundaries or imposed direction. It’s as if the album is saying, “This isn’t ours alone; it’s yours now, too”. That sentiment captures the spirit of improvisation - this music isn’t fully completed until it’s heard, molded by each listener’s individual experience and emotional state. There’s a beautiful irony in this freedom: although the tracks are numbered in descending order, the journey is as circular as it is linear.

From the first waves of “29”, there’s a sense of movement that is paradoxically both intense and serene, like being swept along a river that is at once tranquil and powerful. The track is meditative yet alive, each swell of sound rich with layers and undertones. Gosia Florczak’s synthesizers ebb and flow, conjuring atmospheres that seem to pull from both celestial and subterranean realms. Sulik’s guitar lines float above, stretching into space like fleeting memories.

Then comes “28”, a shorter piece that feels as if it’s holding its breath, marked by pulsing rhythms and textured loops that seem to turn inward, sinking into a contemplative stillness. Sokolowski’s drumming is restrained but firm, a steady heartbeat that anchors us in the moment. The sound feels elemental, rooted in something ancient and primal, like the sounds of a distant forest at twilight, where every rustle and breath holds meaning.

“27” closes the album, building a bridge between the spiritual and the corporeal. Pieczarka Franciszek’s lyra pipe and flute lend an earthy mysticism, their tones like whispers from some forgotten world. In these final moments, "Movement Three" feels less like a composition and more like a place - a sacred ground where music and silence intertwine, inviting us to reflect on whatever it has unearthed in us.

That’s How I Fight has created something truly special with "Movement Three". It’s an album that eschews formal structure in favor of a dynamic, evolving experience. For those willing to surrender to its slow, deliberate pacing and let go of expectations, it offers something more than music - it’s an open canvas for contemplation, a quiet invitation to flirt with the unknown. Here is a record not for casual listening, but for immersion, for journeys into the spaces within and beyond, a reminder of how beautifully sound can mirror the vast, undefinable terrain of the human soul.