Hira Hira Violence Club are one of the bands playing at Festival Mil, and we had a chat with them. 

If the end of the world had a soundtrack, there’s a good chance it would sound like HiraHira Violence Club. Born from the shadows of Barcelona, this new project brings together Zazi White and Pau Molist (known from acts like Vigilant and Pau Oksana) in a duo that sounds like both apocalypse and lace, both destruction and delicate flowers. A sonic paradox that challenges the senses and redefines noise for 2025.

Brought together by chance — or perhaps by something greater — Zazi and Pau appear like angels of collapse, spreading their gospel through layers of distortion, industrial collages and a meticulously crafted visual aesthetic. The sound is abrasive, dystopian, uncompromising — yet somehow there’s a strange tenderness woven through. Amidst the chaos, fleeting moments of sweetness emerge, wrapped in synths, samples, and voices more whispered than screamed.

Their debut single, “Planta Mimosa”, dropped in February 2025 and serves as a blistering calling card. Paired with a striking video directed by Carla di Girolamo, the track pulls us into a world where violence is sensory, almost tactile, but never gratuitous. It’s a kind of fever dream — a clash between sonic aggression and the soft touch of a poisonous flower.

In September, the pair released their self-titled debut album through indie label Humo Internacional. Spanning eight tracks and just over 30 minutes, HiraHira Violence Club is a tight, intense body of work. Tracks like “Belleza y Violencia”, “Porcelana”, “Esclavo” and “Onichan” navigate the line between fragility and brutality — between flesh and machine, the human and the artificial.

Visually, the project leans into a bold, cohesive identity, drawing from Japanese kawaii culture, cyberpunk, and BDSM aesthetics. Think bows, masks, plush toys, warped school uniforms and flowers that wilt on touch — all part of a universe where violence isn’t just noise, but narrative, performance, and presence.

The sound recalls influences from Arca, Uniform, Pharmakon, and even the harsher fringes of industrial black metal — but with a signature entirely their own. It’s not just about noise — it’s about the context of that noise, the story it tells, the experience it triggers.

Still in their early days, the duo are already catching ears beyond the Spanish underground. There's a growing appetite for artists who challenge the status quo of alternative music — and HiraHira Violence Club seem to have arrived at just the right moment, with the right look, and the bravery to push things to the edge.

At a time when so many artists dilute their identity to fit neatly into algorithms, playlists and “safe” festivals, Zazi and Pau do the opposite — throwing themselves headfirst into a vision that’s difficult, demanding, but deeply liberating. Listening to the album feels like walking through a tunnel not knowing if there’s light at the other end — or just more noise.

And maybe that’s the point. As they suggest in one of their track titles, “Belleza y Violencia” aren’t opposites — here, they’re one and the same.