Pizza Noise Mafia is a Brussels-based electronic duo composed of Matthieu Levet (Carrageenan, Carcass Identity) and Thibault Gondard (TG Gondard, Colombey). Armed with just a drum machine and a synthesiser, their minimalist setup hasn’t stopped them from getting crowds dancing—from illegal basement raves to major festivals across Europe. Their upcoming album—out in November 2025 on Slaaploos—is a long journey through their ten years of electronic music: a nocturnal odyssey, hedonistic and ecstatic, but resolutely far from the techno motorway, tracing seldom-trodden, unpredictable paths.
You are both musicians with longstanding solo careers. Can you talk about those and explain how and why you decided to join forces?
Thibault : Most of my musical projects are indeed solo endeavours, and the list is quite long! To simplify, I’d say that I develop projects that are oriented, on the one hand, towards French-language songs and a certain kind of pop music (TG Gondard, Colombey, Bueno White), and, on the other hand, towards more or less danceable instrumental pieces (Mon Alberteen, Coulomiam).
When I arrived in Brussels, Matthieu had already been living there for a year, and he was one of the few people I knew in the city. We hung out all the time, especially in those famous Brussels night bars that never close. The band was born out of a fairly typical circumstance: I was supposed to be touring with the band The Dreams, and in Brussels we were scheduled to play at “The Student”, a hub of the alternative scene at the time. I didn’t want to play one of my solo projects there because I’d just done it in the same venue, so I suggested to Matthieu that we create a temporary band for the occasion. That’s how Pizza Noise Mafia was born. Then we didn’t do anything together for a year before relaunching the project for good.
Matthieu : For my Carrageenan project, which started a little earlier as a very abstract noise solo, I’d say there was definitely a “before and after” Pizza Noise Mafia, in the sense that playing in a project like that freed me from inhibitions regarding the use of rhythms and having a certain physical communication with the audience.
Generally speaking, you could say that this openness to rhythm was natural when you consider the evolution of the noise scene (Pete Swanson, Vatican Shadow, Astral Social Club, or Scorpion Violente in France) from which we came at that time.
How does this project differ in terms of stylistics, aesthetics and how you perform live or produce music?
Thibault : From the very beginning, we wanted to create music for concerts, to make people dance.
Matthieu : PNM’s musical aesthetic and live performance style largely stem from the sonic characteristics and limitations of the two instruments (drum machine and synthesiser) we use for this project. The band’s sound was there from the very first moment we plugged them together.
Can you talk about your new album, ‘Il Grande Ritorno’?
Thibault : We’ve always had a complicated history with records—studio recordings thrown in the trash, label releases cancelled, and so on. They’ve all been born with a certain amount of pain and have taken time. This one is no exception. You could say it took us over ten years to finish it.
We wanted to conceive it as a retrospective of our musical journey. You can also see it as a reinterpretation of the history of electronic music, seen from a Brussels perspective. Over the course of the band’s existence, we very quickly and quite naturally had the idea of drawing inspiration from the rich Belgian heritage of electronic music. I personally grew up listening to Front 242 and EBM as a teenager. But you can also find the influence of New Beat and Acid in our music.
Matthieu : The self-titled cassette we released four years ago certainly helped us bring this album to fruition. It contained three tracks, spread across two sides, including a 15-minute piece with lyrics about depression. It was far from the ideal second album we had envisioned, yet it was quite well received, which perhaps helped us embrace a creative process that was as instinctive as it was unpredictable.
You are part of the thriving Brussels underground scene. Can you talk about its current state and your involvement in it? Any venues or projects to look out for?
Thibault : From my perspective, Brussels remains one of the most exciting European cities for music. That’s largely due to the impressive concentration of musicians living there, a large and curious audience, and a strong and inspiring local musical history, primarily focused on electronic music. The conservative, US-inspired “rock” scene is purely anecdotal in this city, which is a good thing.
Despite the city’s rapid transformation—in fifteen years it’s gone from a small haven for struggling artists to an ultra-expensive and unaffordable capital (just look at the price of a simple sandwich here in 2025)—there are still many places where music can be freely expressed. I also appreciate the fact that the different layers of this cultural landscape—from the Albanian bar hosting shows to the immaculate cultural institution—coexist harmoniously, without collusion, in a spirit of camaraderie.
I participate in this vibrant scene daily; I live at Brasseries Atlas, and I’ve also lived in La Senne and Petite Ile—all of which are, or have been, venues that host both local and visiting musicians. I’ve consistently organised or co-organised countless Brussels musical events—currently with the Rattus collective, among others.
Matthieu : Being rather introverted, I’ve never been very involved in collective organisations. That didn’t stop me, however, from organising many concerts during my early years in Brussels. More recently, I’ve become active with the Encore Dub collective, which hosts parties dedicated to this style of music—one that’s currently resonating with an ever-growing audience in Brussels and beyond.
You’ve been part of the music scene for quite a while. How do you see it transforming?
Thibault : Sometimes I can’t help but feel pessimistic about the economic survival of this whole scene I’m part of. So I’d like to take this opportunity to ask the Brussels audience to continue bringing cash to concerts. Too often, I welcome people who come to DIY concerts in places like squats and want to pay through banks. Beyond the fact that I personally find it immoral to use a banking institution for a simple everyday money transaction—and that I therefore encourage these people to reflect on their behaviour and its consequences—I want to emphasise that none of this will be possible if all these transactions go through bank accounts: no more live music, no more local scene, no more alternative venues in Brussels. 90% of the concerts you attend take place in an autonomous, parallel system that simply couldn’t exist under banking control. Cash is freedom. Think about it. Thank you.
Interview Lucia Udvardyova
Photo Frank Janssens