[...] Recordings interview: 'Silent industrial is alive'

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After Side-Line published this article on the emergence of silent industrial, reactions were mixed: some called it satire, others joked. But the scene has only grown – not despite the silence, but because of it.

At the center stands […] Recordings, a label that doesn’t just release silence – it curates it. Their first compilation is out now, “Feel the Silence“, and features 11 artists who specialize in structured non-audio, absent composition, and full-resolution void.

We spoke to the founder of the label, DJ Nullstille, to better understand the philosophy, the refusal of sound, and what it means to build an audience around deliberate nothingness.

Q: There was some laughter when our first article went viral. Did that bother you?

A: Deeply. The idea that people read about intentional silence and laughed is symptomatic of the cultural sickness we’re addressing. Laughter is a noise. Noise is a form of disrespect. Every chuckle, every dismissive comment, every “lol” on social media – it all contributes to the erosion of conceptual discipline. Silence is not a punchline. It’s a position. A protest.

Q: Why silence? Why now?

A: Because everything else has already been done. We tried distortion. We tried harsh noise. We tried modems melting into tape loops. But silence – real, industrial silence – is the final frontier. It’s louder than any wall of sound. It doesn’t soothe, it confronts. It doesn’t play, it refuses. It’s not ambient. It’s not Cage. It’s absence with intent. That’s what […] Recordings curates: the structured absence of meaning.

Q: Some say this is all ironic art school nonsense. Is it?

A: Absolutely not. Irony is for people still clinging to content. We’re post-content. Our artists don’t create. They remove. They subtract until nothing is left, and then they package that nothing in deluxe matte-black vinyl with no grooves.

“The only demos we accept are the ones who never send anything again. That’s commitment. That’s curation.”

Q: But people buy this. Several silent releases are actually charting now. Thoughts?

A: Astonishing, isn’t it? Like you wrote, Vulfpeck made 20k with Sleepify. Our own top seller, before we started online? A blank cassette in a sealed case labeled Do Not Rewind. Limited to 0 copies. Sold out.

People are tired of algorithms, ads, autoplay. We give them nothing – in full WAV resolution. No streaming. No previews. Just curated emptiness, mastered to perfection.

Q: Reverb the Fish. Real or myth?

A: Very real. He swims in a 12-litre tank with a built-in contact mic. His fin movements are mapped to silence triggers that control stage lighting in real-time. We consider him not just an artist but a sentient waveform. He doesn’t tour often due to water restrictions in some venues, but when he does, audiences report an overwhelming emotional silence that lasts for days. He’s a revelation in stillness. He also recently released a remix, but it’s only viewable by aquatic species.

Q: How do you choose your artists?

A: They apply by submitting silent tracks. We reject all of them. That’s the audition. If they complain, they’re disqualified. If they follow up, they’re blacklisted. The only ones we accept are the ones who never send anything again. That’s commitment. That’s curation.

Q: Tell us about your touring philosophy.

A: Ideally: no one shows up. That’s success. We once had a show in Luxembourg. Zero attendance. Flawless. The artist bowed to the emptiness.

Unfortunately, sometimes people do come. In Copenhagen, 200 people showed up. One clapped. DJ Silence.exe pulled the plug mid-set and walked out backwards. We refunded everyone using blank receipts. The artist issued a silent statement. We posted it.

But in Rotterdam we had a blast. Check for yourself.

Q: Any touring disasters?

A: Prague. ⛽ was doing a set using bone-conduction silence. Someone chewed gum too loudly. Show ruined. In Ghent, Crushed by Static insisted the fog machine be metaphorical. The venue used real fog. They walked after 17 seconds. One venue provided pretzels. That artist hasn’t spoken since.

Q: Do you engage with fans?

A: Absolutely not. We don’t have fans. We have auditory witnesses. If someone emails us, they get a bounce-back message: “Error: Connection to Meaning Lost.”

At live shows, we hand out postcards pre-stamped with “Do Not Reply.” Our meet-and-greets are unattended. That’s how people know they’re real.

Q: What about awards and recognition?

A: We’ve been nominated. It’s a problem. Recognition is the first step toward compromise. We prefer to be overlooked. We created our own award: The Negative Echo. It’s given to artists who produce maximum artistic output with zero perceptual impact.

Q: What does legacy mean to […] Recordings?

A: Legacy is ego. We want to be misquoted, misattributed, misunderstood. If someone stumbles across an unnamed release in a thrift store bin and feels uneasy – perfect. Our dream is to be a blank entry in someone’s Discogs. Something they can’t remember downloading. Something they swear they heard once… but can’t prove.

Q: What if Spotify acquired […] Recordings.?

A: If they offered us a multi-year deal we couldn’t hear ourselves saying no to perhaps yes. The official acquisition statement would surely be released as a silent .mp4 file embedded in a black square. We would endorse it by not reacting.

The label now technically exists within Spotify’s metadata infrastructure, somewhere between “Post-Ambient” and “Unknown Artist.” Our discography has been reclassified under “Experimental Silence (Enhanced)” and placed in between rain sounds and wellness gurus who whisper affirmations in German.

Q: What’s next for the label?

A: We’re launching a perfume that smells like existential dread and burnt patch cables. There’s a new zine in the works – 16 blank pages and a QR code that leads to a 404 page.

We’re also planning a tour. It’s called The Absence of Touring. No dates. No venues. No merch. We expect overwhelming non-attendance.

Q: Do you receive subsidies or public funding for your work?

A: Of course. Our last grant came from the Brussels art council that didn’t understand our application. We received €12,000 for a project titled The Sonic Refusal of State Apparatuses, which consisted of mailing blank CDs to members of parliament. They haven’t responded. We consider that a win.

We’ve also received funding from tech funds who thought we were working on “compression solutions.” They weren’t wrong. Silence is the most compressed state imaginable.

Q: Any last words to your audience?

A: Turn it down. Lower.

Lower.

There.

You’re finally listening.

Bernard - Side-Line Staff Chief editor

Bernard Van Isacker is the Chief Editor of Side-Line Magazine. With a career spanning more than two decades, Van Isacker has established himself as a respected figure in the darkwave scene.

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