Even years after becoming acquainted with it, I still find the name of the Wrong collective refreshing. It is simple, its sound resonates and even the image of the word pleases aesthetically. The crew is one of the more abrasive productions active in Prague, with their focus on raw, industrial and off-kilter music separating them from the rest ever since their beginnings. 

Obviously, the title ‘Wrong’ implies a pursuit of a certain off-quality, nevertheless I have spent some time observing and talking with members of Wrong in order to find out what else is wrong with them.

Getting your hands dirty

To understand why the collective has assembled into what it is today, it’s important to examine the separate paths of its original members: Mojmír, Ondřej, Lukáš and Tomáš. 

Mojmír aka Trauma has been interested in harder-to-digest music since his high school years. Surrounded purely by metal fans, he has always had to follow his own musical path. While studying in Brno, he was a member of a band called Piča z hoven (Cunt from shit), which wasn’t meant to be a serious project at first as the name suggests, but the band kept wittily provoking for 10 long years. Meanwhile, Mojmír kept experimenting, producing music for movies and theatre, experimenting more and, as he puts it – ‘moving little by little towards the wrong-er’.

At 12 years old, a tape by the name of ‘Tekno 19’ landed in the hands of Ondřej (HYΛEN), which he considers the start of his musical journey. This tape contained trance-techno bangers from the turn of the millennium which he listened to obsessively on his walkman. Later, when he was 16, he found a freetekno party not far from his home in Neratovice where, after attending this event, his love for never-ending repetition of sounds intensified. He also realised that for the music to have an impact on him, it needs to ‘vibrate through his guts’.

Lukáš ‘JimHate’ grew up in the guitar and punk scene, from there his journey led him from listening to grunge (namely Nirvana’s In Utero) through other genres such as drum’n’bass, dreampop, dark wave and industrial techno. Feeling more comfortable in the context of visual arts, he didn’t have many plans with music, until moving from Slovakia to Prague where his collection of tapes started to grow quickly. An impressive accumulation of records brought a need to scatter those findings further. 

Ústí nad Labem has always been known as the land of the freetekno so it’s no surprise that Tomáš, being born and raised there, would eventually wander into the arms of the subculture. He was a young fan of punk, metal and hardcore, but his interest in typically morbidly named bands (cannibal, death,…) started fading while the allure of the extreme kept pulling him. Thanks to freetek, he discovered his passion for exploring the ruins of the modern industrial world. A multitude of abandoned factories and warehouses became his weekly destination with or without parties taking place inside.

Thanks to the common interest in the ethos of the extreme, and other mutual activities like graffiti, their paths crossed around 2014 in Prague. They became regular visitors to the corners of the city’s scene where RARE and Polygon threw their remarkable events, getting familiar with the scene’s dynamics and meeting new people. Their initial agenda was anything but formal. Some of them tried forming a band, but after its few iterations with several members arriving and departing they gave up.

However, while rehearsing for the second show of their still unnamed band, they found a word which captured the essence of what they were trying to achieve. They borrowed the name from the collectively admired movie ‘Wrong Cops’ by Mr. Oizo, but while using the full title didn’t feel right, simplifying it into one negative word seemed to click. With the new title, the peeling off of the layers of the word’s meanings began.

After the Wrong band was over, their performance efforts were put on hold, but luckily their hunger for unorthodox and raw music didn’t, so they kept digging.

Lukáš: At the time, we even lived together for a while, and that affected me strongly as well. I penetrated into the music even more. And then we had the need to do something with that music. We had something to say and we knew we were able to pick interesting stuff.
Mojmír: You know you have good stuff you enjoy, but you don’t hear it at a party, and you want people to hear it.
Lukáš: Also, we missed the dirt. That’s what I missed in the scene. 

Jonáš: Coming back to the name ‘Wrong’, I have always interpreted it as a statement, a definition against something which is happening around you. Something which says ‘we want to do bad things’.
Ondřej: I identify with this now, but it wasn’t the case at the beginning. It gained this meaning as we moved on.
Lukáš: More importantly, it wasn’t about any ambitions, it was more about the need.

The need Lukáš speaks about resulted in connecting with Punctum, one of the cosiest venues for such discomforting sounds, and which was willing to put Wrong’s sound to test. Obviously, they proved themselves, the space became one of their regular venues of choice and they even earned a residency on Radio Punctum. Soon after they have started nomadically expanding into the city’s venues and collaborating with other collectives. Over the years, they have always tried picking a place which would suit their bookings the best. Since I couldn’t be there, I can only imagine those punkish shrieks of Pelada tearing Underdog’s or Luna Vassarotti at Altenburg almost putting Vltava on fire.

What I can recall very vividly from events I attended are all the feelings of extreme force, of the discomforting rawness, which made me feel even anxious at times. Despite the physical reactions of my body being pressed to its limits they managed to shift my perspective. Whether it was during the Total Black showcase at Punctum, Drvg Culture and The Empire Line at Ankali, or Wrong Corps performance at Lunchmeat’s Rave Mark, It was always something of a struggle to really get into the music. It usually wasn’t easy, it was often overwhelming, at times it made me numb or void, but the process usually resulted in a personal revelation and acceptance. Which might be exactly the point.

Ondřej: When it comes to the aggression and ruggedness of music, I’ve had it like this since the beginning. At the same time, there can be some sort of dark uncertainty…there always has to be something that gives me goosebumps. And I don’t think it’s just a phase. What I want to hear mainly is some element which disturbs me and rips me out of my comfort.
Mojmír: I need the music to kick me in the guts, so that I can offload everything.

The good and the bad

As Wrong’s audience kept growing along with the team’s experience, they started booking better known artists, in particular the important figures of the development of their collective taste. Even though these artists brought bigger audiences to Wrong’s dancefloors in comparison to usual guests, there was something missing in the whole experience. The bigger the name, the more formal the whole process becomes and it starts to lack friendliness and intimacy they’ve originally set out for. Opportunities for profound connections lessen.

So who are Wrong’s usual guests? Artists for whom arriving, eating dinner, getting to the club, clinking glasses out of politeness and leaving isn’t enough, the ones who Lukáš feels confident approaching after an impressive show at some Berlin club, introducing himself and inviting them to Prague, those who don’t mind crashing on a couch, guests who say thank you and mean it wholeheartedly, people who share the ethos of what an event should be.

A successful club career, bookings around the world, 10 flights per weekend, all that naturally takes its toll on the performer’s ability to establish a deeper connection with their hosts. It doesn’t mean Wrong wouldn’t invite in-demand artists, after all, music is the most important factor in their decision making. It’s just that people described above and their time spent here is what dwells in memory longer and makes them thrive.

J: And what about the musical part of that experience?
O: Clearly, that’s why we are doing it, but you say to yourself afterwards…fuck, I would like to get some humanness from that as well. But of course it’s not a rule.

With a quickly developing music scene like the one here in Prague, a certain degree of formality and professionalisation eventually becomes inevitable. The money-driven and generic approach to promotion, the one which usually produces empty spectacles and is generated by the ever-growing demand for watered-down entertainment, is unfortunately inevitable too.

Even if Wrong’s style is very far from the stale waters of safe techno, it isn’t as extreme as some might think according to Mojmír. He highlights Genot Centre, the forward-thinking local label, which he applauds for its courage to do things differently, for avoiding trends, taking financial risks and thus – and most importantly – for going even further in terms of extreme. 

This approach in music promotion has been disappearing in recent years, getting drowned out by the omnipresent commercialisation and widespread use of electronic dance events as very plain means of entertainment. For them, having fun is a big part of what they do, but only hand in hand with the artistic quality and authentic values, which may then allow for exceptional moments to happen and for people to have profound experiences. Experiences which aren’t achieved by playing it safe.

Wrong, but in a good way

The collective expanded in 2019, being joined by Ver, a 3D graphic artist and VJ, who became a part of the team’s visual section and brought a fresh breeze. Her mostly digitally made work, known by its ominous environments and ever more ominous organisms living inside, was already in-demand among several local labels. Only after joining Wrong she had started working with light design. She sees the visual side of an event as a space to sneak in ephemeral art, which becomes highly functional for one moment and is gone in another. 

One of her more lasting outputs is her design for the album ‘Strahov’ from the local producer C4AT, which recently came out on Wrong Tapes and to which she contributed with an animated  music video. Ver develops the aesthetics of the label in a new but consistent way and it’s clear she knows where to continue. She is a perfect fit to the group and works well in tandem with Tomáš, with whom she is able to merge both of their ideas when setting up events.

Originally working exclusively with digital projection, Tomáš has discovered the simple beauty of analogue lightning, now switching between the two approaches whenever appropriate. He usually spends time walking around abandoned factories and desolate lands, where he collects found objects and ideas for his next light designs. One of his recent projects, installed in a store window, was an interactive light piece with a name that speaks for itself: ‘Dance Before Silence Is Over’.

After 3 years of ‘doing things wrong’ the crew matured into a fully-formed collective. Despite having roles assigned by individual strengths, it doesn’t mean they stick to the formula every time. Their decision-making process relies on communication and deep trust built over time.

Mojmír usually handles the bookings and communication while Ondřej likes the on-location side of things, dealing with sound and logistics. Lukáš mostly takes care of the graphic design and printing. The distinctive aesthetics he has imprinted on Wrong is recognisable whether he makes it alone or in collaboration with someone else: monochromatic schemes, weird imagery, paper cutouts and scans, hand drawn elements; all flattened into almost disturbing collages and printed at Kudla Press – Lukáš’s risography studio, where he spends most of his time.

In 2019, a few months before the pandemic hit, Wrong celebrated their 3rd anniversary at Bike Jesus with a bang. They built the line-up from many local and several foreign guests including Bernardino Femminielli, a Montreal-based performer working on the intersection of music, performance and poetry. It was a ‘cabaret on crack’ with a vulgar entertainer, cheerful but depressive at the same time, wandering between the audience and sweeping them off their feet. 

Femminielli’s performance is one example of the growing range of their interest in new, weird, exciting and off-putting productions. It represents their belief that there are still so many things left for local audiences to discover. There are always some risks to be taken, lessons to be learnt and preconceptions to be broken. 

With these kinds of acts, Wrong tries to encourage people to open themselves up. To show their extravagance and express true selves. They would like to see more people playing with their sexualities, identities, masks or imagination.

O: I wanted to say, and I am sorry, but it is woven into the nature of Czechs and Slovaks, because when you live here you adapt to the mood in the air. You are scared and you try to be…
M:…inconspicuous, so that you don’t stand out of the crowd.
O: But I have it in me as well you know.
M: That’s that inherent Czech mentality.
O: Yes, that’s what communists did to us, and it’s what will be around for many more years. Those 40 years of evil, those will linger inside us for some time.

Whether there was the lack of more progressive illegal dance events or just the spirit of freetek still alive in their hearts, some time ago Wrong came up with an idea of ‘Secret Rave’. The idea was to resume where the energy of freetek culture started evaporating, but also to bring communities of kindred genres together. The event employs typical old-school rave strategies: no-budget DIY production, collaboration of numerous crews, low-profile promotion, strong emphasis on industrial or desolate locations and no entrance fee.

The Secret Rave luckily took place last summer and together with the recent releases on Wrong’s tape label, it’s been one of the few things that the pandemic allowed them to do last year. However, everyone has been keeping themselves busy. Rethinking while waiting. Playing regularly, on Radio Laude or elsewhere. Modeling and printing. Climbing through abandoned factories and exploring new territories.

It’s clear that Wrong – the collective – evolves its meanings. You may interpret their activities as a criticism of the status quo or even as a dissent from how things should be done. You may understand it as an expression of energy and the aesthetics they are going for. Those meanings will keep shifting and whichever direction that will be, you can be sure that Wrong will keep doing things the right way.