“We may sound angry, but our message is one of peace,” is a line that you’ll regularly hear from Harry Wilkinson, Maruja’s magnetic frontman – and it’s an effective microcosm for their sound. The Manchester jazz–punk quartet create tense, improvised anthems of rage with extended passages of introspection, and caught the attention of Sony-backed label Music For Nations. Their gripping live show, meanwhile, has built them a dedicated fanbase all over the UK, and they’ll soon headline their hometown’s 1,500-capacity O2 Ritz.
Recent tours in China, Japan and a 38-date European escapade prove that the message of the recent NME Cover stars is resonating globally. Narrated through their bombastic stage presence, Maruja cover every corner of the vast spectrum of human emotion, whether they’re slamming the negligent, exploitative rich through noise-punk (‘Look Down On Us’) or urging you to open up about your feelings over humming jazz rhythms (‘The Invisible Man’).
‘Pain To Power’, the title of their debut album, can be read through both lenses: a rallying cry to force the hand of the ruling class, or a vehicle to reshape the hardship of the present into strength. Maybe February’s continuously improvised EP ‘Tír na nÓg’ (‘Land of the Young’ in Gaelic) lifted Maruja’s confidence to another level, because three tracks on ‘Pain To Power’ are allowed to last for 10 minutes, all while revisiting much of the rage that dictated 2024 EP ‘Connla’s Well’.
On the flip side, ‘Break The Tension’ cuts sharply to the socio-political boiling point, as Wilkinson – who’s had enough – screeches, “Fuck waiting patient / Hands on the throat”. On ‘Trenches’, his poetry puts professional motivational speakers to shame, using his own “universe determined by my fucking self-belief” to illustrate why our individual voices all hold such importance. Living up the self-proclaimed influence of Nina Simone and Bob Marley, Maruja’s conviction has never been more steadfast: “No revolution if you don’t think you’re a revolutionary.”
While ‘Pain To Power’ advances the harsh pairing of the saxophone with noise-rock that Maruja have already explored, its standout moments come through expressions of love – fulfilling Wilkinson’s on-stage promise. ‘Saoirse’ combats the bloodshed in Palestine with a poignant reminder of our shared humanity (“It’s our differences that make us beautiful”). Floaty jazz cut ‘Reconcile’ hammers home this sentiment (“We are love in abundance”), in preparation for the fuzzy rush of blood to the head that characterises its sprawling climax.
Alone, ‘Pain To Power’ can’t change the world. But, with fire in our bellies and love in our souls, individual and collective action can. Delivered through the uncompromising vessel of Maruja, ‘Pain To Power’ has all the necessary horsepower to deeply affect hearts and minds – arguably the most important step. As Wilkinson reminds us on ‘Reconcile’: “Change the way we look at things / And the things we look at change.”
