Long-time friends, and trustful party partners , the Brussels duo, Techno Thriller, joins the Teenage Menopause Records family with a batch of slow and cranky misshapes.

During the past decade, we’ve linked them with the filthy EBM and chopped Indus-Techno they’re performing during massive lives, stabbing the dark rooms audiences. Two albums released on both l’Entorse and the Brussels’ pioneer Unknown Precept, integrating the C12 agency, they scoured Europe, releasing some smoky tracks, for those who love cinderblocks, leather and sweat. On the strength of this impeccable resume, they’re offering, now for Teenage Menopause, a free-reading of the Decameron: a 10 texts chronicle, by the florentine Boccace, describing the spread of the Great Plague of 1352 in his city.

While exploring the limits of new sounds, expanding electronic music, Techno Thriller looks back into their medieval influences, sharpening the blades on the literature of British authors, cutting guts on dark folk moods. The rhythms are slow, the gears are dedicated to building a dark and gloomy feeling, helped by featurings like Naomie Klaus or violinist Tamara Goukassova.

LP / Digital Album

Techno Thriller joins the Unknown Precept fam with a brand new mini-album, following the release of their eponymous full-length album a few months back. Recorded in their Brussels stronghold earlier this year, the four-handed formation has steadily been crafting cybernated Gothic music from the depths of their narrow basement. Drawing inspiration from dark dungeons and occult folklore, not without evocative titles. Compelling murky synthpunk and industrial machinery colliding in fervor and howls. Enfant de Sodome feels as muscular and drenched as one could expect from their thrilling live performances. Free falling tumultuous bass lines lacerated by ominous muffled barking and groans. Bone-bending primitive techno catapulted over the walls in the most urgent fashion. At times, it very much feels like trying to dance on some sort of cryptic electronic body music in a heavy chain-mail, or at least we urge you to do so.

12″ / Digital Album