2K88—fka 1988, aka Przemysław Jankowiak—is a music producer, graphic designer, and audio director who grew up in the Poland of the 1990s listening to the pioneering rap records of the time. The rawness, chunkiness, and paranoia he took from this period have always been an integral part of his music. They were there when he made his first homemade beats and stayed with him as he distanced himself from hip-hop in the years that followed, delving deeper into the world of sampling experimentation and the post-genre avant-garde. Active in various formations, including the lauded Syny project alongside Robert Piernikowski, he has collaborated with numerous musicians from his homeland, including chart-topper Brodka. 2k88 is his solo venture.
Your new project, 2K88, embodies the era and spirit of the “PL Sound”. Can you talk about what the PL Sound is and means to you? Because it is not only about the sonic part of it – inspired by UK sound system culture – but also has social and urban connotations alluding to Poland’s post-communist transformation.
At first, it was a joke I made on Instagram, somewhat in opposition to the growing number of Polish projects calling themselves UK Sound. Half-jokingly, I announced a new genre called PL Sound, which sparked a wave of amusing reactions. Naturally, I declared myself the self-appointed pioneer and brought some of my friends into the mix. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that something like this actually exists. Poland has always been—or was—behind in everything, mainly due to the backwardness caused by the communist era. But this backwardness led us to search, be inspired by, and process things in our own unique way—sometimes naively, sometimes groping in the dark—creating, in my opinion, a new and unique quality. There are countless examples of this, but I decided to strongly associate the term PL Sound with the term UK Sound, which broadly refers to bass music. Many of us emigrated to the UK and absorbed the local scene. Polish music has always been full of nostalgia, coldness, and sadness; there’s little joyful music here. We absorb everything and process it through our nostalgic filter. I believe the same thing happens with bass music.
Do you think that rap and hip hop are still a vehicle for social and political commentary?
Lately—to put it simply, of course—rap has primarily shifted towards pure entertainment, while simultaneously achieving unimaginable reach. In Poland, rap essentially dominates the music scene. So this provides an excellent opportunity to convey something more meaningful and powerful. Paradoxically, however, with this increased reach comes the fear of losing it, and I think this fear prevents rap from being a vehicle for greater values. Few artists allow themselves to take that risk.
The central theme of your new album is also Polish rap from the 90s and 00s. Besides it being a cultural inspiration, you were also sampling it. What are its specifics, compared to other hip hop scenes and legacies?
Polish hip-hop from the 90s is quite distinctive, with samples from Polish recordings dominating—mainly due to the lack of access to foreign records at that time. It’s often sad, dark, and I would compare its atmosphere to the New York school of rap, like Group Home or NAS, or even to French rap such as Supreme NTM. Polish rap from that era also has a certain naivety; it’s very raw and street-oriented. From today’s perspective, the serious rhymes often seem amusing or outdated. Revisiting and reinterpreting that era in my music is a follow-up to the times I grew up in. This strange music shaped who I am.
You have been around for a while on the Polish music scene with several projects, including Etamski or the duo Syny. Can you talk about your musical evolution?
I started with rap, making beats on Fruity Loops. The deeper I got into sampling, the more music I discovered, which eventually led me to the works of Sun Ra. At that time, rap was beginning to commercialise, and I was starting to lose my connection with it. Inspired by free jazz, spiritual jazz, and avant-garde electronics, I began using typical rap tools like the MPC sampler, sampling, and turntables to create improvised music. I experimented with structure, sound texture, and field recordings—releasing this music under the name Etamski.
In 2014, Robert Piernikowski and I decided to record a simple rap album. It was an intense process, where many things seemed to happen by chance—this led to the creation of our first album as Syny, titled Orient, which turned out to be anything but straightforward rap. It probably ended up being one of the strangest rap albums in the history of Polish music. Syny was contagious; we had a lot of devoted fans, almost followers, but we also had a lot of haters who didn’t understand our style. We played together for six years, recording another album called Sen in the meantime. During this period, I also released my solo album GRUDA, which was an evolution of my previous style, heavily influenced by the atmosphere of Syny.
After our breakup, I focused on production on a larger scale—I produced an album for the Polish rap legend Włodi, as well as for one of the most popular Polish pop artists, Brodka. I also fulfilled a dream by creating a producer album featuring about 30 artists, ranging from underground to mainstream. I recorded the soundtrack for the movie Zadra. In the meantime, I continued to perform as a DJ (for a while, my friends and I even had our own sound system) and produced my solo albums like Ring The Alarm, the previously mentioned GRUDA, and the latest one, SHAME. This year, I also released an album with rappers Kosi and Hades under the name STRATA, and I worked on music for a Netflix series (premiering in February next year). So, my journey has been quite broad, with many branches, but I’m glad that every project I’ve worked on has been aligned with my vision, my beliefs, and my own style.
The question above alludes more to stylistic and aesthetic development, but could you also talk about how your production techniques have changed, also in terms of technological development?
Until 2020, I used only hardware, primarily analogue synthesisers, effects, and the MPC sampler. I’ve always been fascinated by delays, echoes, and reverbs—hence my love for the Jamaican and British music scenes. Both Syny albums, as well as GRUDA and Ring The Alarm, were recorded directly on the MPC, without modern mixing techniques or VST plugins, using only an analogue mixer.
Over time, however, I warmed up to using a computer, and I’ve since expanded my setup to include Ableton Live and VST plugins, which has evolved my sound with additional possibilities. I enjoyed that earlier way of working; it had many limitations that I approached with respect. Now, working mainly in Ableton, I have developed a unique workflow, and the vast possibilities don’t overwhelm me. Of course, I still invest in analogue gear.
Interestingly – your new project distances itself from nostalgia and hauntological tropes as such, putting “reconstruction before deconstruction”. Could you elaborate on this?
I respect history and often reminisce about the “good old days,” but I’m not a fan of art that merely recreates the past. I’m more of the mindset that it’s “forward ever, backward never.” If in the 90s, hip-hop sampled and transformed recordings from the 60s and 70s into a new style, why not do the same in the 2020s? Drawing on the spirit of the 90s, I wanted to place those specific emotions that I remember well into a new, contemporary sonic space. I’m inspired by today’s rap styles, like those created by artists such as Alchemist or Earl Sweatshirt. They also draw on nostalgia, but, for example, the rhythmic structures of their tracks are closer to what trap offers than 90s rap. It’s a similar case—same emotions, but with a modern style.
What’s up next for you?
I want to play my solo material as much as possible. I’m still touring with other projects like Brodka and STRATA, but in the near future, I want to focus on my solo work. I’m planning at least two albums for next year—how many of them will actually be released, time will tell.
Interview: Lucia Udvardyova
Photo: Mariana Hernandez (cropped)