Promis3 Ate the Internet and Spit Out the Truth
Words by Christiaan Pienaar
On their new single “ATE,” the Belgian duo Brent Dielen and Andras Vleminckx known for their queer, dystopian, electronic pop and fusion of future and nostalgia. In this candid conversation with MERDE editor Christiaan Pienaar, Dielen and Vleminckx talk turning digital exhaustion into euphoria, dissecting desire, consumerism, and the performance of being seen.
MERDE: “ATE” is such a loaded word — especially within queer culture, where it’s equal parts performance and victory. What drew you to that title, and how does it capture the track’s mix of confidence, chaos, and triumph?
PROMIS3: For us, “ATE” felt both celebratory and slightly cynical. It captures that rush of performance and confidence at the heart of queer culture, but also the fatigue that comes with seeing its language turned into internet wallpaper. Words like “slay,” “iconic,” or “you ate that” were once loaded with power, connection, and pride. Now they echo through every feed, stripped of their original fire. In a way, “ATE” became our way of reclaiming that energy — confronting how everything online is called iconic, until nothing really is. The track also plays with the idea of competition: the constant urge to outshine. In a way it’s also a reflection of modern culture, where we’re always comparing us with others who are richer, more successful, more beautiful, more everything…
MERDE: The video feels like a fever dream — glossy, grotesque, and a little hilarious. What inspired that surgical aesthetic as a metaphor for dissecting desire, consumerism, and the idea of perfection?
PROMIS3: The video came from a frustration with the current social media landscape, we’ve been feeling like it became a rat race conserving its own toxic cycle. Whether you’re an influencer or an artist, we’ve all helped build this void by chasing numbers and hollow ideals of perfection. As we have slowly shaped the expectations ourselves we now have to adhere to them to stay relevant. Those endless “What’s in my bag” or “My morning routine have killed true artistic spirit in a way, and we slowly forgot about the power of mystery and the need for integrity by adhering to and feeding the social media algorithms. But we didn’t want our message to be too harsh, as we’re all just getting caught up in this digital world without realizing it. So what better way to bring across frustration through satire? We thought of this archetype character that feeds into this ideology so much it actually starts consuming it, eventually resulting in death. The surgical setting became our metaphor for that — the act of dissecting desire, consumerism, and the human need to be seen. It’s glossy and grotesque at once, because that’s what the social media feels like: seductive and twisted.
““ATE” became our way of reclaiming that energy — confronting how
everything online is called iconic, until nothing really is.”
MERDE: The props — the keys, the straightener, the magazine — feel almost like relics from a lost pop religion. How did you curate those objects, and what story do they tell about identity and aspiration?
PROMIS3: We started thinking about the banality of it all — which objects really represent the emptiness behind our idea of happiness? Does an unattainable lifestyle magazine inspire you, or does it quietly make you feel less worthy? Does a Ferrari complete your life, or is it just filling a void? Do beauty products and protein powders make you feel better, or are they ways to mask insecurity? Of course, it is never that black and white. I loves experimenting with makeup as a form of expression, and Andras is obsessed with the gym and car culture. But that is exactly the point — we are all negotiating with these symbols every day. Real happiness and self-acceptance have to come from somewhere deeper than this digital mirror constantly reflecting everything we are not.
MERDE: “ATE” fuses hyperpop’s manic pulse with ballroom’s poise and precision. Was that collision a deliberate experiment or something that just erupted naturally in the studio?
PROMIS3: The track came together during a writing week with TAAHLIAH and Ceréna — both incredible artists deeply rooted in the queer scene. We were all inspiring each other, just feeding off the energy in the room. During a little break, we started playing around with this repetitive beat and the lyrics came together really fast, and when TAAHLIAH and Ceréna came back in the room and heard it, everyone got hyped and burst out laughing. It had this chaotic, infectious energy right away. I think their presence naturally pushed us toward that hyperpop and ballroom fusion. Ceréna, who founded Club Quarantine — an online queer party during lockdown — really brought that spirit of freedom and play into the room. So it wasn’t planned, it just erupted out of that shared moment.
“We didn’t want our message to be too harsh, so what better way to bring across frustration through satire?”
MERDE: When you’re producing, how much are you imagining the movement — the body, the performance, the physical release — as you build the track?
PROMIS3: (Brent) With almost every song I write I imagine myself stepping on a stage. In my mind I explore how it feels to move and emote to it and how it commands the stage in regard to the audience. Do I feel good and secure with the message I bring forth with this? Does it have the right sound for the intensity of my intended performance to it? We tend to go back and forth until that feeling is right.
MERDE: You’ve described Promis3 as both a band and a world-building project. If someone wandered into that world at 3 AM, what would they see, feel, or hear that tells them they’re inside it?
PROMIS3: (Andras) If you wandered into the world of Promis3 at 3 AM, you’d enter a space where real life gets a pause, a euphoric fever dream, both nostalgic and futuristic. You’d feel this sense of release, like all the noise of the outside world just fades for a while. In that moment, identity becomes fluid, gender, sexuality, form, and expression all lose their boundaries. What’s left is connection, honesty, and the relief of existing without needing a mask. a place where you remember what freedom can feel like. Brent: I think this world is ever changing. Therefore I would say it would feel/ look like some sort of backrooms facility. With each era we like to rebuild and then break it down again to make space for new things. So in our mind it’s like a huge place with thousands of archival rooms that all hold their own concepts. Lots of them are still empty for future projects, those that are filled echo faint melodies of our released music.
MERDE There’s a recurring thread of nostalgic Euro sounds projected into a futuristic framework. What draws you to that clash between past and future — and how does it feed your emotional palette?
PROMIS3: (Andras) Belgium carries the Euro sound in its blood. it’s part of our cultural DNA. We grew up with it, seeing it on TV, hearing it blasting from tuned cars, or going to the last remaining megaclubs on the side of the road. Those trancy hypersaws, jumpstyle kicks, and euphoric melodies became part of our musical vocabulary without us even realizing it. When we create, we like to play with that nostalgia, taking something that feels familiar and placing it in a contemporary context. It’s both emotional and ironic. Those sounds remind us of a very specific era, but reimagined, they feel new again. Even today’s bounce or hard dance tracks echo the spirit of artists like DJ BoozyWoozy or Klubbheads, which in a strange way brings us full circle.
MERDE: Your music walks a tightrope between anthem and disruption. Do you consciously chase that tension — the balance between euphoria and unease — or does it just happen when you create?
PROMIS3: (Andras) I think it is subconsciously conscious — that tension naturally slips into everything we do. I get restless when something feels too repetitive or linear. We need contrast to stay engaged. So even in our darker or more repetitive tracks, there is a lot of times a moment that breaks through — a melody, a rush of emotion, a spark that cuts through the noise. It is the same when we DJ. the same thing in a dj set, I personally get bored really easily if a dj plays 90 minutes of the same repetitive techno, so I love it to have a balance between both and play with that, to switch between repetitive, euphoria, vocals, melodies, always counteracting. That friction keeps the music alive.
MERDE: Brent often drives the concepts and visuals, while Andras crafts the sonic architecture. How does that creative friction between the two of you shape what Promis3 becomes?
PROMIS3: I think what shapes Promis3 the most is the fluidity that comes from this friction. We constantly reinvent, while staying true to our own core beliefs/ preferences. We both have very different visions of where we could take Promis3 if we had each had full power over it. Through resistance and acceptance of each others differences we’ve slowly paved the way of Promis3’s trajectory.
MERDE: If Promis3 had a mascot or creature that embodied its energy, what would it look or behave like?
PROMIS3: It would be a cameleon or a cuttlefish because it’s able to change it’s skin into any pattern it observes. To us that’s reminiscent of our fluidity in music and adapting ourselves to our polarizing visions, taking on parts of each others patterns to become something unique and exciting. They are very curious creatures as are we, forever in search of new inspiration and ways to express our creativity.
MERDE: You’ve said your visuals can be logistically wild — water tanks leaking, frozen studio floors, budgets spiraling. How do you stay creative when ambition threatens to swallow practicality?
PROMIS3: Ambition and practicality are constantly wrestling in our process — and that’s probably what keeps things interesting. Brent usually comes in with these wild, cinematic ideas that might push the limits of what’s possible, and I’m the one who (annoyingly) steps in to translate that vision into something we can execute without budgets exploding. It’s a balance between dreaming and doing. Over time, we’ve learned how to make that balance work. We do a lot ourselves — from concept development to editing, styling, .. — which gives us full creative control but also means we’ve had to become resourceful. Most of the people we collaborate with are friends, and there’s a lot of goodwill involved. Eventually, instead of renting studios or equipment for every project, we just started buying our own gear. Everything we earn from shows goes back into the project. It’s not always practical, but that’s kind of the point — we’re constantly trying to find that middle ground between impossible ambition and what’s actually achievable. That tension keeps the work alive. And if you don’t have a single cent, remember you have passion, dedication and two hands. As long as you know who you are as an artist and are willing to cry and bleed for the project, you are unstoppable.
MERDE: From the raw chaos of a Boiler Room set to your high-concept videos, you’re constantly shapeshifting. How do you keep the soul of Promis3 intact across those worlds?
PROMIS3: We’re always trying to merge both worlds — bringing high concept into raw chaos, and chaos into high concept. Even instead of regular dj set, we want it to feel like more than just a mix of tracks. So in live performances or club settings, we try to weave in moments of storytelling through visuals, lighting, and live performance. In our dj sets, Brent sings live, which immediately transforms the atmosphere and creates a stronger connection. Whenever possible, we bring our own team, including a dedicated light designer. It might sound like a small detail, but it adds so much depth and dimension compared to the usual red club lights, it turns a set into an experience. For our upcoming Clubslut event at Wintercircus in Ghent, we’re pushing it even further — we are working with 360 visuals and immersive sound to build a rave that surrounds you completely .It’s about building a bridge between those worlds. That in-between space is where Promis3 feels most alive.
MERDE: You’re bridging underground club culture and pop mythology. What’s been the most unexpected revelation in living between those two realities?
PROMIS3: It’s not so much a revelation as it is a realization — these two worlds are much closer than people think. Whether you’re deep in an underground club or standing in a stadium at a pop concert, what truly connects them is experience. The artists who thrive in either space are the ones who create a complete world around their music. When everything — the sound, visuals, lighting, and emotion — is curated with intention, it transcends genre or scale. Whether it’s a curated night at Berghain or a Lady Gaga show, both can feel equally transformative when that level of care and vision is present.
MERDE: If you could define the ultimate aftereffect of a Promis3 track, what do you want the listener to feel — whether they’re alone with headphones or lost in a crowd at 2 AM?
PROMIS3: We want it to feel like surprise — that moment when something totally unexpected comes in. Whether you are alone in your room or lost in a crowd at 2 AM, a Promis3 track should hit you, but also stay with you afterward, like an echo of something you cannot quite name.. It should leave you curious, and wanting to dive deeper into the world it came from.
“ATE” isn’t an anthem of self-assurance; it’s a requiem for meaning in the age of virality. Yet somehow, in confronting the emptiness, Promis3 finds transcendence. Their music insists that we keep dancing — even as the world scrolls on without us.