Poetrip describe themselves as “avant la lettre avantgarde neoexperimentalism, art by context, lo-fi volens nolens”. Others describe them as “the most psychotic band, with the most psychotic sound” or simply as “a strange genre blending rock based band, doing bad music”. Truth is, either you love or hate them. And Poetrip do nothing to place themselves somewhere in the middle.

Their mild punk attitude and dadaist approach give birth to an irresistible mix of black humor and “je m’en fiche” ethos. But don’t be fooled: this is just a pose for a deep sense of everything-is-wrong which otherwise might be too painful to live with.

So it is no coincidence that this band sculpts through their music an endless column of iconoclast attitudes, like the reverse of the pretty famous Column of Infinite made by Contantin Brancusi, a modernist sculptor also hailing from Targu Jiu. Such is “Sergiu Nicolaescu”, a track which doesn’t pay homage to the renown movie director born in the same town, but a simple song about hell, God, drunkenness, a macho club fight story and some other little moments of letting oneself go.