You’ve described Ultra Sunn as a safe space. People write to tell you the music pulled them out of depression. Your shows are loud, dark and physically demanding. Safety in that room doesn’t look like comfort. What do you think is actually happening to someone in there?

I don’t think we’re creating a safe space because we avoid darkness. I think we’re creating one because we’re willing to walk through it. ULTRA SUNN probably began as a way of healing ourselves. We all carry wounds. For years I lived with severe anxiety, eating disorders, and I reached a point where simply existing became incredibly difficult. I was hospitalized, and I remember feeling as though I had reached the very bottom of my own abyss. Maybe, that’s where something changed. Once you’ve touched the bottom, a different kind of desire appears, the absolute thirst to rise again, to return to the light. Since then, that’s become the heart of what we do. We take raw material and through music, movement, sweat and complete presence, we try to transform it into something that lifts us. It’s almost an alchemical process. It asks for a certain discipline, even a kind of sacrifice, physically and mentally. Every concert is a passage. We willingly step into the darkness together, hoping that somewhere in the middle of the night, something begins to shine. What matters most to me happens in the eyes. I spend a lot of time looking at people during our concerts, because that’s where the real conversation begins. If people leave feeling lighter, it’s because, together, we uncovered something that was already there.

You’ve described the advice Front 242 gave you as invaluable. That’s a strong word. What did they tell you, and why does it still matter?

Front 242 have a purity in their work that very few artists have. There is no compromise, everything feels completely true, and that’s what struck us the most. Our conversations were mostly technical: how to build an album, how to push the energy further on stage, how to dare more and break out of your own limitations. Their advice was incredibly liberating. We probably haven’t applied every single thing religiously yet, but those words stayed with us. Beyond the music, we recognized a certain sense of humor and a way of seeing things that felt very familiar. What impressed us most was their absolute focus before stepping on stage. That purity of intention, that commitment to the art, is something we deeply admire.

EBM and New Beat are Belgium’s gift to electronic music. What did they give you specifically, not as influences, but as a way of understanding what music is for?

Sam: I discovered these genres almost by accident. They were always somewhere around me growing up, but it was when I was about 20 that I truly fell in love with them. There was a legendary club night in Brussels, in the club that felt like a second home to me, where DJs from the New Beat scene were playing records from that era. I discovered this slow, strange, hypnotic, dark, sexy and incredibly free music. It felt completely different from anything else. When I came home at 8 AM, I only wanted one thing: to go back into the city, visit record shops, ask questions and buy everything I could find. At the time, almost nobody cared about this music anymore, and some shops had piles of forgotten records collecting dust. They were almost worthless. Later, I learned that even the birth of New Beat came from an accident a record accidentally played too slowly on the radio. I love that idea that sometimes the things that change your life come from something higher.

Gaëlle, you’ve said you think of songs as clothes, designed to be felt on the body. What does the new album feel like to wear?

Gaelle: it’s true, we use this idea a lot in our creative process. A song has to fall on you like a garment, like a fabric that naturally takes the shape of your body. This second album feels more combative. It’s like wearing an armor. We drew a lot of inspiration from fantasy worlds, old vampire stories, and 19th-century romanticism. There is something dark and protective about it. Once you remove it, underneath there is something magical: vulnerability, strength, imagination and transformation. You’ve said that turning feelings like betrayal and violence into something explosive on a dancefloor feels like a victory.

What do you think happens to a person when they dance while holding something that once broke them?

Yes, this is probably the most powerful moment. Dancing is a way of dissolving into sound. You enter an invisible current that carries you somewhere beyond yourself. You feel stronger and beautiful.

Gaëlle, you came to this through classical piano, your training built on structure and resolution. Sam, you came through years of bands, with structures built on feel and instinct. When those two approaches pull a song in different directions, who wins?

Gaëlle: My journey was also about unlearning many things. Playing synthesizers is a completely different world from classical piano. I loved the freedom, the exploration, and the more delicate work of shaping sound. I think classical training gives you a certain way of listening, an attention to detail. Over the last two decades, I’ve spent my life going to as many concerts as possible: rock shows, raves, classical concerts. This is actually something Sam and I connected on very deeply. We both have this endless curiosity for music.

Sam: It’s true. As a child, my dream was to become a professional harpsichord player. I think my parents weren’t necessarily excited about the idea of having a musician as a son, but they still took me to many concerts, and I was fascinated by Baroque music. Handel, Bach, Rameau, Scarlatti, Dowland, Vivaldi, Saint Colombe… Eventually, I felt this urgency to create music myself. I bought a guitar, and that became my entry point into actually making music. Playing in bands when I was younger taught me so much, and most importantly, it introduced me to some of my closest friends.
I like to compare music to navigation. Some people learn through the navy, with discipline and tradition. Others jump onto a pirate ship and discover things through instinct and adventure. Both are demanding paths, and both are valid. To answer the question, nobody wins, because there is no battle. Very quickly, those two worlds meet in the same place. In the end we are workin on the the same ship!

You list Beyoncé and Underworld as influences. What do those two have in common?

Those were influences that guided us especially during the creation of our first album, US. And I have to admit, I enjoyed seeing some people completely miss the point and reveal their own limitations by dismissing those references. Energy, emotion, transformation, and connection. That’s what matters. A 909 kick drum and some glitters that’s it!