Brutalismus 3000 is the hottest new electronic band in continental Europe , a pair of Bavarians who rocked Berlin with the most brutal, brutal, downright beautiful rave music since the 90s and called the modern techno scene boring and "unstylish". Texts about horror movies and 9/11, meeting fashion's dark lord Rick Owens, games with thousands of people, serious TikTok numbers and (apparently) drinking blood. Victoria Vasiliki's Daldas and Theo Zeitner bring an almost irreverent spirit to the techno scene that it has long needed.
Or if they weren't so cute. Daldas and Zeitner met in 2018 at 2:00 a.m. in a bar in Neukölln, southeast of Berlin. Zeitner was at a party when she received a message from her new Tinder game asking if she wanted to go out. They barely exchanged a word with each other, but she spontaneously agreed to a first date.
"I just said. "Do you want to meet? "And then he walked in and I saw this sweet kid ordering a vodka soda," Daldas said. We first spoke in English…”
"... I thought he was Russian...", Zeitner said.
"... and then I heard him say 'vodka soda' and I immediately knew he was German," says Daldash.
“I was a little scared,” Zeitner said. "But then it turns out he's soft."
"It's not a record." Daldash said with a smile.
In two previous interviews with the Berlin music magazine Playful , Daldas and Zeitner wore the same fluorescent yellow jumpsuits (presumably Balenciaga) and particularly lamented the contemporary techno scene in Berlin. "They take it very seriously and say: 'techno is the revolution'," said Zeitner. “I don't think so...not like that. Going to Berghain is not a revolution... the techno scene is really out of style."
When they welcome me to their new two-story apartment the day after they move to Neukölln, they are just lovely, showing a good understanding of their musical chemistry, completing each other's sentences and laughing merrily over their drinks. Cosmopolitans attract the attention of their managers. The place is still bare, just a few chairs and a coffee table, but it's on the top floor of a modern building and blessed with lots of sunlight and a green street view of Berlin's most famous neighborhood.
Even if they hate techno Revolutionary features represent a radical change in electronic music. After years of being defined by harsh, gritty techno created by white men in plain black shirts, Brutalismus 3000 sounded bolder and harder, landing somewhere between Euro-trance, 2000s electroshock and all-out Americana. They dress in bright colors and sing to the teasing and feminine community of the Daldas Berlin club scene ("They're your children," Zeitner tells him).
These are also conflicts. They may be niche, but they're hugely popular, played by pop stars like The Weeknd and even EDM DJs like David Guetta. Their music is both irreverent and mostly referential; Flip through their catalog and you'll find references to Kraftwerk, Iggy Pop, Soundcloud rappers, David Cronenberg movies and vampire superheroes. They say they are not influenced by the techno scene, but they cling to four drums on the floor like teenagers on a phone.
And despite their ferocious energy, their music is often sublime, gentle in its hypnotic melodies and astonishing in its subtle portrayal of the world. I have to face this paradox. Is Brutalismus 3000 as harsh and uncompromising as it seems, a symbol of the dark Berlin underground that rejects mainstream society and worships the devil in its spare time? Or are they still human?
"You could say we worship Satan," Zeitner said.
On that first date, Zeitner and Daldas discovered a shared love of horror films and heavy dance music by artists such as DAF (Deutsch Americanische Freundschaft), a well-known seventies and eighties electropunk duo from Düsseldorf, among others. Beautiful songs about Hitler and Mussolini. Zeitner started making music in garage bands after watching his friends make minimal techno; He decided to learn how to do it to prove to them that it was stupid. Before that, Daldash hardly ever sang, except maybe in a school play, and even then he forgot his lines.
Less than a year after dating, they started recording together. Zeitner delivered a deliciously infernal beat and Daldas sang in a mix of German, English and Slovak through a distorted microphone. Whether you speak one of these languages or not, his words are hard to decipher with catchy passages that hint at the twisted, dark feel of the city they live in and the world they were born into. Mysterious, politically twisted and genuinely attractive, although the genre he's often placed in is of little consequence, Daldas techno Death Grips frontman MC hip-hop rides; You may not understand everything they say, but you can't stop listening.
In August 2020, Brutalismus 3000 released their debut single "Horíme" ("We are on fire" in Slovak) as the world was gripped by a pandemic. When the clubs reopened, they had several singles and two EPs, as well as a large following online, which helped them gain the attention of several TikTok kids. Their first real show in Paris in 2021 attracted 2,000 people. Titles from their early work include "No Sex With Cops", "The Devil Was a Baby" and "Die Umwelt Macht Baum" ("The Environment Grows Up"). Several covers of their records show blood dripping from their lips.
In February they recorded Rick Owens' Rave Sarcophagus, and in April they released their debut album, Ultrakanst ("Ultra Art") which reached number 11 on the German pop charts. Crazy rave horns, trance riffs, drums and the occasional jungle beat drive songs like Daldas ' " we drink your blood and sit on your head." She says she writes down words and ideas on her phone as they come to her, “and it's total chaos. Then Theo helps me to order. , violence."
Like most of their music, it paints a picture of Berlin as a free, loving place shrouded in an air of dark confusion. In the romantic film from 2022, Daldas simulates a sweet romance in the frenetic atmosphere of a Berlin nightclub . But in "SAFE ZONE" he really targets any club that at least claims to be safe for its patrons.
"Basically everyone we knew was on drugs or something," explains Zeitner.
"I was drugged twice," Daldash said. "Nothing bad happened, but ... it's a party comment where you say it's a safe place and then you look at the [DJ] crew and . . ."
"...It's a bunch of alleged rapists," says Zeitner, "or it could be a weird party where they're mostly straight, dressed up and going out there to harass women. We saw that and we just got the song released. . We see a lot of people have problems here. Mental illness is worse here because it's a very stressful, very demanding city, but we love it."
"When I came to Berlin, I felt at home for the first time," says Daldas. He grew up in rural Bavaria in southern Germany, with a Greek father and Slovak German mother, in a conservative environment where he "never fit in". He always had a loving relationship with his parents, but he left home at the age of 18 and was told, "We've never seen you so happy."
Zeitner grew up in the small Bavarian town of Coburg and describes his upbringing as "upper middle class". She says she was diagnosed with ADHD when she was 12 and had "all sorts of problems". "I think I was very anxious as a child. But my childhood was very happy and safe. Very privileged."
Zeitner and Daldas often say things that challenge the usually shy and humble persona of the archetypal electronic musician.
"We both knew we were going to be famous from a young age," says Daldash.
"Yeah, it's the only thing I've ever wanted," adds Zeitner. "It's so funny. You could put it on Idol. "They haven't hit the streets yet, but when they moved to a new place, a neighbor recognized them, which must have bothered them. They spoke to me the first weekend after a month of a 30-day European tour. Even though they were on planes most of the week, Zeitner still has a fear of flying. Every time he gets on a plane, he wears the same shirt and plays the same song before take off. "Heat Waves" by Glass Creatures, so the chorus plays as the wheels leave the pavement.
Since his last 27th birthday, Zeitner has been thinking about the scene in "Birdman" in which Michael Keaton's character sits behind George Clooney on a plane flying through a storm and can't shake the thought that the plane will crash when it lands. The next day, Clooney's face would be in the papers, not his. "It would be a shame to die at 27," Zeitner said. “Because who am I? Am I in this club? I will die at the age of 28, then I will be in a new club."
Daldas won't reveal his age, but regardless, Brutalismus 3000's fan base is definitely Generation Z. Their last tour was open to anyone 16 or older, and they kept the average age at their concerts at 18 or 19. Very young,” Zeitner said. "People hate what young people like, but I like it. The younger generation is always the best generation."
Zeitner says they remember a pre-internet childhood defined by millennials, Game Offspring and pro skaters Tony Hawk . But it's easy to see why young people love them. Their favorite lyrical themes include an atmosphere sampled by David Attenborough and the song "3ISBÄR" 2022 by Daldas singing Icebar , a reference to Swiss group Grouzo's 1981 cult hit "Icebar". 'n müssen weinen " ("The polar bear must cry").
"To say it's activism would be an understatement," said Daldas. "But it's definitely something that our generation and even the younger generation are struggling with, and it's definitely affecting us." Zeitner points out that flying around the world every week for a different concert isn't environmentally friendly, but they hope their vibe will at least have an effect on their audience.
However, they show their age on the ultra-vibrant track "CRY BÉBÉ". Between references to the end of the world and Woodstock 99, Daldas sings (in German) "Two buildings, two planes / Will never be the same." Recalling the events of September 11, he said: "I remember that moment when I was sitting in front of the television. "I think it's a bit like what's happening now. We record this and that, and then read you the news and what's happening. He turns away. Then you read and think about what you can do to make a difference."
"Obviously, it's a kind of provocation," Zeitner added. "But it's very neutral. This is not really meant to be a joke, but being on the dance floor is not normal for you. It's something we've always loved, more than just a dance track."
All this - the abandonment of the ubiquitous minimalism of electronic music, the emergence of problematic club lineups, more than dance performance - means a technological revolution, right? "I wouldn't go that far," Zeitner said. "But it's certainly been a long time. I think it's strange that we're in such a unique position in what we do. We've done it as a club, with all the club imprints, but with a completely different attitude. . It's amazing that we're the first to think of it..."
They noted that according to Spotify, their second largest fan base is currently in the United States. "Bringing this vocal, hard, loud rave culture will be something new for them." Both academics point out that although techno originated in Detroit, most Americans did not experience rave culture as it did in Berlin and London in the 1990s. They haven't scheduled any shows in America yet, but they're grinning at the prospect of attending the Las Vegas electronic dance music festival with confetti cannons, fireworks and Jackass-esque rocket doodles.
In 1977, David Bowie asked Iggy Pop to write a song "about walking through the night like a ghost". They recorded "nightclub" together in a studio in Berlin. Grace Jones and The Human League perform the song. On the Brutalismus 3000 version, Daldas confidently repeats the vocals over violent screams and bass drum crashes;
And at the moment, at least in Europe, they exist. It remains to be seen whether the rest of the world can handle Brutalismus 3000's multi-sensory assault. after all, they don't actually drink blood. stars?
"No," said Daldas. “Well, probably the baby's blood. you know how to stay young.''
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