GENRE: Rock
LABEL: Music for Nations
REVIEWED: 18th September, 2025
Rating: 7.5/10 – A bold, frenetic first step that dazzles more often than it falters.
With their debut album Pain to Power, Manchester quartet Maruja deliver a project that feels both volatile and magnetic—an attempt to bottle the raw unpredictability of their live shows. The record swings wildly across genres, weaving hardcore, free jazz, hip-hop, and alt-rock balladry into a whirlwind that often astonishes, but occasionally loses focus.
Maruja are a band of theatrics and extremes. On stage, saxophonist Joseph Carroll might dive into the crowd mid-song, while vocalist and guitarist Harry Wilkinson throws himself into ritualistic pushups or strips off his shirt before unleashing screams and spoken word cadences. Bassist Matt Buonaccorsi and drummer Jacob Hayes often move in unison, like they’re summoning spirits rather than just keeping rhythm. That same intensity floods into Pain to Power, a record that channels improvisation and chaos with both brilliance and rough edges.
The album draws from a deep pool of influences—echoes of UK post-punk outfits like Black Midi and Squid sit alongside the experimental fire of London’s jazz scene, where artists like Nubya Garcia and Shabaka Hutchings thrive. Wilkinson also nods to homegrown MCs such as Little Simz and Jehst, his vocal delivery darting between breathless raps, guttural shouts, and eerie spoken passages.
Tracks like “Break the Tension” showcase this hybrid approach at its best. What begins as industrial punk quickly erupts into an unhinged saxophone frenzy, underpinned by pounding percussion and bass that rumbles like an earthquake. The opener “Bloodsport” is equally gripping, building tension with ticking rim shots before exploding into Wilkinson’s venomous bark: “Shame so strong wanna wash away with blood.” It’s a collision of hardcore rage and hip-hop swagger that feels both timeless and fresh.
Political fire runs through the album’s veins. Maruja have made “Free Palestine” chants part of their concerts, and their lyrics rail against oppression and greed. The sprawling ten-minute “Look Down on Us” takes aim at late-stage capitalism’s power brokers, painting grotesque portraits of CEOs and profiteers with lines that recall both Zack de la Rocha and Johnny Rotten.
Not everything lands. When Wilkinson strays into vague affirmations—“The truth is hard to find hidden deep within one’s aura”—the impact dulls. The track “Saorise,” with its well-meaning refrain of “It’s our differences that make us beautiful,” edges into cliché, its earnestness undercut by its placement among far sharper experiments.
Still, when Maruja lean into chaos and instinct, Pain to Power crackles with urgency. Wilkinson has compared their shows to “an exorcism,” and at its best, this album channels exactly that sensation: cathartic, combustible, and impossible to ignore. It’s not a perfect debut, but it’s one that proves Maruja are a band unafraid of risk—and capable of turning turmoil into something unforgettable.
