Ah man – Appear Disappear from legendary Swiss noiseniks The Young Gods is such a cool album. One of those records that just seems to sidestep the normal cliches of rock / electronica / industrial to offer something genuinely unique and genuinely artistic, you’ll lose yourself in it for days and, from its disconcertingly beautiful (yet slightly threatening) artwork to the astonishing production, it is easily one of my albums of the year.
Anyhow, having waxed lyrical in a recent 10/10 review, I had the opportunity to chat to Franz Treichler, the band’s wildly enthusiastic leader. As endlessly eloquent as his music is engaging, Franz is a thoughtful and fascinating speaker, and our conversation covers a wide range of topics, from the writing of the album to the role of music itself. Read on and enter into the world of The Young Gods.
The first question I wanted to ask is this: you’ve been around for a long time, you’ve got a strong legacy but, unlike a lot of bands, it doesn’t feel like you’ve established a comfort zone. It feels like you’re always trying to find some new way of expressing yourself and on this record there’s this… I wouldn’t say aggression, but there’s an energy that feels born from that – would you agree?
Yes, but… well, the thing is that, when you fall into a formula, it’s a bit boring as an artist because discovery is probably what drives us most as artists.
To be amazed, to be curious, to be astonished by new things and to not only think how to develop this language – the music, the beats, and all that stuff – but how to synthesise that all together – to give it a more contemporary edge. I mean, it’s the same old story everywhere, but you have to keep on positioning yourself and not capitulating, you know. So, I think there is this urge. I mean, for me, music is partly trying to respond to our surroundings – in a socio-political context; and also, partly, it’s a language that goes straight to the soul and gives us a positive energy.
You know, I’m glad you didn’t use the word “aggressive”, because I make a big difference between violence and aggression. I think things can be violent – a volcano is violent, but it’s not directly meant to harm people. It’s a fact. It’s violence – can I take it or not. It’s not like a fucking fist in your head; it’s a kick in your ass! [Laughs]
It gives you energy. That’s how I’ve experienced music since I was a teenager, and my favourite bands from then on were the bands that gave me the energy to try to be creative, to do things myself, and help me through my process of getting older and so on.
I think that’s what we want to communicate indirectly. I mean, there’s no message, but I think this album is about that. Don’t capitulate. And just keep on with energy, even if the surrounding is… well, as it is.
As a matter of fact, the working title was “anti-capitulatism”. It’s difficult to pronounce in English, but it’s like a mix of anticapitalism and capitulate. It’s like, don’t lower your arms. Don’t play the victim. Just keep on believing in your passion and in positive feelings and trying to be constructive, you know. The music is a great tool to do that, I think.
It makes perfect sense, and that’s why I shied away from the word “aggressive”, but it’s sometimes difficult to articulate… but it’s that energy, you’re right.
A violent energy, It’s strong! You feel like “woah”. But aggression is up to you. Whether you take it as something to give you energy or if you close yourself off, it’s going to give to… it’s almost like you add emotion to the violence and that becomes aggression. It depends on people’s definition. That’s mine.
One of the things that, for me, has really changed in music making is – when you started, you had to really work very hard to create certain sounds. And a lot of the sound of bands came from trying to create things and very often just doing the best you could – so, it might be Judas Priest throwing a box of cutlery downstairs or David Gilmour recording his guitars through a school PA. Now, obviously, there’s so much more stuff that’s instantly available, but it’s almost like there’s too much choice – making it almost harder to get the things that you want. How do you balance the growing technology with the desire to still create in a way that’s organic?
Well, at some point you have to remind yourself that we did records, or songs, with three sounds and a half. [Laughs] It was a time when you didn’t have this palette of possibilities. So, sometimes just a good reminder.
You probably have to have a little bit of a punk attitude at some point and just go “ah, it doesn’t sound the way you want but just go for it.” You’re not going to spend two fucking weeks in the studio just to get one sound!
So, it’s a question of attitude. But I think there are times when it’s good to explore without thinking you have to write a song, and you just explore and see what’s interesting. And the more you do so, probably the more ideas you’re going to get because you don’t have expectations – you just explore. That’s the way I work basically. And it’s the same with the lyrics. I’m not like, I have to write the lyrics and then open up a blank page. I just write bits of stuff every day or when I’m in the mood. Sometimes it’s not for two weeks, sometimes it’s four days in a row. It can be just something that’s going to become a work, the title of a song, or part of a chorus – but then, I don’t tend to finish things. I just assemble things once I get into this drive of having to really make things concrete.
So, it’s the same thing with the technology. You have so many possibilities, I think at some point it makes it easier to jump on something and decide to make a song.
We jam, we go back to… for a long period of time, we were very individualistic and everybody was making something that was almost like a song, you know. Now, we just gather in the rehearsal space, and we play notes and stuff on the guitar, and we record on two tracks. And, then we listen and then, if we have something, then we try to redo that and then we start working. We find dozens of good, basic ideas that are going to become the next album. Then it’s the big work. Then we start to be a bit more nitty gritty about how we put sounds together – how we shape them, the space between the sounds, the effects.
But, yeah, I always go back to the first record, because we made songs with three sounds, sometimes two. So, it’s possible, it’s just, like, don’t get overwhelmed by so many possibilities.
Just, yeah, it works this way.
You mentioned the importance of space and that’s one of the things on this record that I really enjoyed – it has that energy and it has that power, but there’s a lot of space in the arrangements and the mix. There are songs like Hey Amour and Blue Me Away – there’s a lot more dynamic than you often get with music that relies on electronic components – so, how did you approach the composition and arrangement of this album?
It’s very instinctive. Every part has its demands. I don’t know how to explain it, but effectively, dynamics is very important. And the way that you place the elements into that space – that stereo space within the mix and the headroom and that kind of stuff.
I probably work like a painter. I know if I’m going to put some red here then it’s going to influence the way people see the blue that is just next to it. Every sound has a particularity and a demand, and you have to spend a bit of time. I think mixing is…
I told you about the idea that, at some point, you have to just go for it and make decisions. But, when you talk about the mix, these are not songs that you mix in two days. Definitely not. We spend some time, then we stop, we go to another song, we come back to it and have a bit of freshness again and to try some new things – what works, what doesn’t work. So, we build up the record sometimes having three or four songs unfinished and then we jump to one – stop, because we think we’re stuck and need something fresh – then we go to this one, because we think we can do it fast and it works, so then we go back to that one.
You know, it’s an overall process. It’s not one song after the other, definitely not. And that helps a lot, I think, because then you don’t… when you dive too much into one mix, then you don’t have the distance anymore, and you can spend hours on something that’s not so important, but you think it is. But, if you close the session and go to another one, then come back to it, then it’s going to be obvious, and you can just work through it.
So, that was our approach because, yeah, I’m a big fan of mixing you know. But, as a singer, I get bored listening to my voice too many times – I see all the little mistakes and then I want to redo stuff, and you can have never-ending takes, now with technology.
So, at some point, you have to give yourself restrictions, accept the way it is, and I’m glad you think it sounds good, because I’m sometimes thinking I could have done it better. But no, no, no, forget it! There is a certain amount of… we want to be spontaneous. It was a record also that we wanted to have this feeling of emergency and it’s not the right time to start trying to do the perfect ever mix! So, probably, that’s also why there’s this urge.
It feels to me as if, and I’ve noticed this at big festivals as well as through the likes of Spotify, there’s such a drive for “perfection”, where everything is autotuned and quantised (both onstage and off). Sometimes though, we forget that it’s the imperfections which, maybe to us as performers really annoys us but, to the outside world, it’s an idiosyncrasy that is perfect to the moment and to the song. You listen to a Bowie record, for example, and you don’t hear the flaws – you hear the passion in the delivery, and I think it’s more important than ever that artists allow that humanity to remain a part of their work.
Especially nowadays. Like you mentioned, autotune – which is mostly present in the things that kids are listening to and, especially here – I don’t know about England, but here, all the cars passing by are listening to rap with autotuned stuff. It’s like let’s get rid of… [pauses] it’s like make up, make up, make up – you don’t want to show your real face, you don’t want people to hear your real voice. You want everything to be perfect and it’s probably a sign of the times but definitely no imperfections there.
And I use autotune as well, sometimes, just to remind me that I have to work this way. So, I’m flat and it’s OK, but maybe listening to the autotune version makes me want to work to try to get there.
Yeah, so imperfections, sometimes it’s also for the technology. When gear is like fucking up or you abuse it and stuff, that’s what makes it interesting as well. Not what was written in the manual [laughs]. That’s what makes it special.
It’s an interesting thing – for me, I find I can get overly precious and it’s almost like a panic response “oh no, this isn’t…” But then, most of the records I love have those imperfections so, like you say, it’s having that punk rock attitude and just learning to let go. Because you can spend forever mixing tracks and working on pieces and sometimes you just have to allow the authenticity of the performance to shine through.
Yeah, because it’s also a trap to try to get to perfection. My neighbour, where I have my studio, he’s a techno artist and he’s really talented, but he never finishes a song because he starts… every time I go to my studio, I hear him and I’m like, ‘wow, that’s a really cool groove’ and then, the next day, he’s added something and it’s getting better and better, but there’s a point where he just adds so much stuff, he starts doubting everything, and after two weeks he can’t listen to the song anymore and, as a result, he hasn’t finished anything for ages.
And it’s also like an escape where, at some point, you have to take it where it is and decide that’s the end of the mix – it’s not going to get better. You have to give it a life and do something else. It’s a pity because every time he starts a song, it’s great and then, after a week, it goes [mimes downhill] and he loses interest. And nobody’s ever going to hear his music. Which is a shame.
A lot of people are like this – staying in the rehearsal space for ages, buying new equipment because of blah blah blah and never getting out because they don’t have the guts to confront themselves with who they are or what they play.
It is scary! Once you’ve released something, you lose all control over it – the analysis and the feeling people have around the music is out there and it’s tough to do when you’ve worked on something for a year and a half, and you get to that point where you press the button that sends it off to the press or whatever. Then you have to just let it go!
Isn’t that great, Phil? It’s the lesson of life – of letting go [laughs] It’s fantastic! You give it the opportunity to have a totally unexpected reaction. You have to let go. It’s… I think it’s fantastic. Like you mentioned before, you can influence people that you might even not like what they do, but they’re influenced by you for some reason, or the opposite.
So, it’s a step to the unknown and the unknown is great. It’s like yeah, fuck! I created a monster!!! [Laughs]
You also mentioned lyrics and it’s interesting to me because, for better or for worse, the English language has become so ubiquitous in contemporary music that it’s actually rare to hear something in an anglophone country to hear anything that’s not English language. So, when you decide what language to use, is it the lyrics that decide your choice of language, or the rhythm of the music that decides?
It’s the lyrics. Definitely.
Some ideas come to me in English, some in French, and most of the time I write… as I told you, I have some bits of lyrics here and there – unfinished stuff. But, once the song is finished, it starts to become obvious that it’s going to work better with these bits of French. Or, sometimes, I even mix the two languages.
It’s also a bit of an instinctive process. I think that lyrics are the hardest thing. Probably because I have my cues in playing guitar and programming, but I don’t know. I give maybe a lot of importance – maybe too much importance – even if they are for me sometimes abstract [laughs]. I don’t know, if it’s about opening your mouth, then at least it has to have a meaning for you. I don’t know – I think it’s the utmost touch to the combination and chemistry in the song. It can change the whole perception of even, probably, the music itself.
Maybe that’s presumptuous, but I grew up in surroundings where I was absolutely not aware of what people were singing in English when I was a kid. I just wanted the music. And I didn’t speak a word of English and, when I started to understand the lyrics, I was like ‘uh – this song is not so nice’. But I liked the groove and the bassline, and it was fine, until I concentrated on the lyrics. So, it’s a bit difficult for me to say.
I don’t know, you don’t maybe understand too much of my French singing. You have to look if there’s a translation or you can translate it yourself. But then you get the idea through the drive of the music like, I don’t know, Mes Yeux De Tous probably doesn’t talk to you much about what I’m saying in the song, but you get the feeling of the song and why not.
It’s the first time, actually, I did the exercise of trying to give an explanation to the songs. I don’t know if you got that. I tried to explain, basically, what the motivation behind every song was. And I did this in French, of course, but it’s been translated in English, and I don’t know if you got this – it’s not important, but I thought it would be interesting to do it once and why not? Not to stop people from having their own interpretation – but, this time, I decided I might as well try to explain what is behind Blue Me Away and Systemised and so on. But it’s not, absolutely… it’s a plus or a minus, because I think it’s also good when people have their own imagination working on the songs.
To be honest, I never read the press materials that come with records beyond the initial pitch because so often it… once you’ve read something and it’s told you what to think or what the influences are, whether musical or otherwise, you can’t unhear it. So, if someone says, ‘this album sounds like System of a Down’, subconsciously at the very least you’re perpetually comparing it and looking for those rhythms and connections. I try to avoid it.
It was my first try and I don’t know if it was a good idea or not [laughs] But, I think it’s very wise not to… I think it’s good to have a fresh approach.
We’ve got to a point, and I don’t know if you’ve found this, where everything is so open… when I started listening to music, most bands were mysterious. I mean you could go out and buy a magazine and you’d have the interview but that was it, you couldn’t follow up with questions via Twitter – there weren’t reams of social media commentary and analysis. And I think, on whole, I probably preferred the mystique. We’ve got to a point where everyone wants everything exposed to the light. You think about something like Bitch’s Brew, and I don’t really want to know what happened in the studio on Tuesday and what they had for lunch – I just want to lose myself in that world.
Yeah, you’re right. I absolutely agree. We survived it and lived through it very well and if we would have known that they were fighting over their lunch or whatever, we probably wouldn’t listen to the music for what it is and go to the essence of what they gave to that music, which goes way beyond the behaviour of humans for sure.
But that’s exactly what you said, it’s the over dramatization of social networks. Everybody wants to know everything and be immersed in the process – almost being part of the recording, like if you were there. That’s true. There are no mysteries but, as we said before, we want it [the music] to have its own life.
It’s all about the mysteries – it’s a good word – it has to stay mysterious.
I don’t have many generic questions I ask, but this one always comes up because it’s so close to my heart – I’m always interested in the sequencing of a record because it’s such an art form and, over the years, it’s really evolved from vinyl sequencing, where records were really sequenced for two very specific halves, to CD sequencing, where it was more linear, and now we’re moving back again… How did you approach it? Do you have a sequence in mind when you start writing or as you’re writing, or do you only get to that once you get the pieces semi-complete?
Like this – I do the sequencing once the pieces are complete, definitely.
Because one song can – it’s like we said earlier with song composition, if you do the chorus earlier, it might affect the bridge. So, if you… you never know when you start a record, but little by little it becomes obvious what the start is going to be or what the end is going to be. Then, from there, I pay attention to it but not for like weeks and weeks.
We had, for example, the opportunity to play the first three songs (Appear Disappear, Systemised, and Hey Amour) live. We’d played them dozens of times in the live situation, testing the songs in front of an audience and it worked really well to open the show. So, we thought that we should do the record this way. Then, Blue Me Away – which was the last track that we recorded and wrote – went way better in the beginning between Systemised and Hey Amour because it brings you to another place again.
So, it’s like a puzzle. You might need some moments of rest to be able to take what’s coming next. Also, you may need a bit of surprise or, if you put too much electronic stuff too early or whatever. Sometimes there are elements that you think are important but, actually, aren’t that important.
But I pay attention to it, definitely. And I’m not the only one in the band. Our drummer is also a freak – he likes punk rock and also progressive music, so he likes concept albums. This isn’t a concept album, let’s make it clear, but he worked with me, and we totally agreed. You know, working on this, we looked at how we could exchange songs, but most of the time we had the same results, which is cool. Sequencing, hmmm.
Having developed the sound of the album, the artwork for this record is, again – very evocative. It’s sort of a blank face of damaged glass, which is slightly oblique. At what point do you start thinking about the art and presentation of the album.
I think, for example, when we have about six or seven songs, the pictures start to come together according to the pressure and the delays of making the album. So, we start thinking about artwork then because we know it’s going to take a while as well. We have different ideas and basically, I bring these ideas to the person I usually work with – who did the last two covers – and just discuss with him and, most of the time, he’s got a very interesting point of view as well and it goes from there.
Most of the time, these ideas are not simple – especially not this one. There was one with bank notes, but photographed so close you wouldn’t know. If you take a magnifying glass to a bank note, it becomes very psychedelic – the weird patterns of things. It could be a great idea. Then there was this glass thing because we always have textures in our record sleeves from stone to fire, to skin – the name of the band carved into skin. So, the glass for me was also an oblique way to… there was a feeling of, yeah, going out into the street and breaking stuff up. Or things in the street breaking up by themselves – like smashing with no influence – something explosive and edgy. And glass is also something edgy, even if it’s very flat, because when it’s broken you have lots of splinters and I think it’s a bit of an oblique statement of, yeah, how to explain it… a reaction to, like you said before, everything in music is very smooth – it’s too sleek. To break a window, there’s a feeling of throwing a stone into the window. Also, there’s a line in Systemised – like smashing windows in the street. But you don’t know if it’s me smashing windows in the street, or if they’re exploding by themselves. That’s the feeling.
It’s a bit of an angry record also. It’s like a reaction – anti-capitulatism; there is a bit of that, definitely. Reacting to an emergency, not capitulating – an invitation for reflection, let’s say. Oblique, you say [laughs]. It’s oblique.
We talk about this a lot – it’s the nature of the artist. Most people, I think, follow the idea of growing up and putting away foolish things, but the artist embraces foolish things, and they keep the dream alive and keep that curiosity alive – seemingly against the odds. And I’m not necessarily talking about people who make music for a living or even make music that reaches a mass audience. It could just be someone who’s dreaming and playing in their bedroom studio – it’s that anti-capitulatism – and everything now, in hyper capitalism, seems designed to push you towards that blank acceptance of wake up – work – watch TV – sleep. And that’s it… the dream has been replaced by someone else’s vision on TV. So, it’s the artist’s job to fight against capitulation.
I totally agree, Phil, it’s almost a duty at some point. Well, maybe that’s not the right word. It’s a bit like being the King’s Fool, the person who steps into the anthill to give it a big question mark. Exactly – to keep the dream alive and to keep the fight alive. I think you can say so. Dreaming is one thing, but the dream is also getting into a format because of the entertainment industry and all that stuff. So, I think it’s a bit of our duty… no, motivation – we have to keep this motivation of going beyond rationalism, going beyond blind acceptance of the values. To keep on debating. All that stuff.
Art is a tool, and I think music is also, like, let’s say medicine. It’s a combination of the tools. You go deep into a language that only can be produced through art – music, words, sounds, rhythms, and other art forms. It’s a tool, it’s a cure, it’s a medicine, I would say. It’s our role to question, to keep the dream alive, to help people go through their times or whatever. To me, that’s music did for me when I was a kid. It helped me to grow up because I had the feeling that I had big brothers somewhere in other countries who were making the soundtrack of my dreams. I didn’t feel alone because that music exists. When you’re in that teenage trap, or a pre-teenage situation where you don’t understand the surrounding society, the family, the parents – it helps a lot and it’s also a bit of a cliché, but I think it’s true, it can bring that fire and flame into the hearts of people. It’s very important, definitely and, if we have the chance to have this at our fingertips – to be able to do that, we have to do it.
It’s a chance, a pleasure, and a gift definitely. Sometimes, in a violent way; sometimes in a soft way. There are all kinds of music and there’s a place for everything. We have acquaintances who do this more than that, because that’s their sensitivity; but it’s definitely important. After forty years of doing it, the problem is finding the time to do it enough because there’s so much that you have to do around it.
Blondie used to say it’s 80% administration and 20% music. And nowadays it’s even worse [laughs]. But yeah, it’s a gift.
It is interesting that music is unique in the form – if you think about painting or literature, with music you have to have so much trust in so many other people to bring it to life. Unless you truly can do everything yourself form the mixing, mastering, recording, to the administration and press side of things… maybe there’s someone out there who’s putting all that stuff together – you have to trust the people who make the art, you have to trust the other musicians, you have to trust the people mixing and mastering – it’s a fundamentally communal thing, a social thing that’s so important – and that feels a little lost where, for younger people it’s a passive activity where they’re streaming and not even sure what they’re streaming…
Yes, that’s for sure. It’s not very rewarding – so much time you spend but, again, as we said before, you have to let go. Because you never know. You can have the next generation who pick it up and think that it’s great…. Who knows. It’s beyond time. It’s something and we have to let go.
In your case, do you mix and master everything yourselves, or do you outsource that bit?
I’m very much involved in the mixing, and I let other people do the mastering. I’m not sure it’s a good thing that you become – being part of the mastering, because most of the time the people I work with for mastering, they send me two or three versions, so you have to compare them [laughs]. So, you have to listen, compare, see what they did, and then understand the difference. I would love to have one guy who just tells me the way it sounds best and ‘ciao, thank you and bye!’
So, I have to make choices with the mastering too! You learn stuff about dynamic and compression and it’s interesting too, but it takes a lot of energy as well. But I love to, of course, be part of the whole process to the very end. Even the cover. I worked with the guy smashing the glass and we tried different stuff, and it was a bit of a do-it-yourself situation: ‘let’s put it this way; let’s try that!’ It was fun, and if it’s fun, you’re going to get a good result.
The mastering, I mix the stuff with my sound engineer – it’s the guy who’s been working with us live for many years. We know each other, we don’t have to define things to make them happen because we know what we both like. But we both leave the mastering to someone else, because it’s good to have external ears at some point – especially if you’re not in a big studio designed with a perfect acoustic, then you might have some frequencies that you don’t even hear in the mix – and the guy doing the mastering can correct that and do it better than you, so it’s good to have an external ear. But if you get two or three versions, you have to implicate yourself and decide which is best. And sometimes, not for this record but for the one before, I took some from mastering A and B. They matched together and it was better for some tracks, not for others. It wasn’t a full A or full B version that was the best. So, yeah, I’m definitely involved.
It’s an infuriating process, but a good master can bring out the best bits and a bad master can kill an album stone dead!
Yeah! You can smother it, make it too aggressive, compress it too much. And lots of people call themselves mastering engineers but they work with pre-set plug ins. Sometimes they have really good results, sometimes really bad. And anyway, I have friends who work with really huge equipment – I was going at night, it was a big studio in New York – and sometimes it was amazing, sometimes not. It’s organic. Your ears – if you’re tired – you do what you think is good, but the next day it sounds way better or worse. It’s partly chance, partly knowing how; but you have this tiny window of things that can happen and the best mastering engineer in the world can do shit work as well. Like a songwriter – you can write a bad song, you know – even if you think it’s great [laughs].
I know what you mean, with sound, I find you can lose the plot. You finish up for the day, thinking everything’s cool and then the next day, you wake up, and you’re like ‘I just want to hear it one last time’ and you wonder what the hell you were thinking!
Yeah, yeah, yeah! That’s why I told you we work on more than one song. We keep four or five songs open and then jump from one song to the next, and it really helps.
So, what happens next? Are you taking this out on tour?
Yes, we are playing in October, November, and December. We’re doing two UK shows only, unfortunately. We’re doing Leeds and London and that’s it. But we’ll probably, according to how the response is to the album, we might be touring in 2026. But, for now, we’re doing a good 35-40 shows. A great tour, yeah, all Europe.
The last big tour we did was 2019 and it was a blast, I loved it. I’m very happy if we can do that again. It’s going to happen. I’d love to tour more extensively in the UK because we normally do one or two shows, and I’d love to do more. But it’s difficult for promoters to take the risk. Maybe this album will make it more possible.
The Young Gods – Appear Disappear will be released on CD/LP/DL via Two Gentlemen on June 13th
Tracklisting:
- Appear Disappear
- Systemized
- Blue Me Away
- Hey Amour
- Blackwater
- Tu en ami du temps
- Intertidal
- Mes yeux de tous
- Shine that Drone
- Off the Radar
“Appear Disappear” will be available on CD, standard black LP, limited pearl-northern light LP and digital formats via Two Gentlemen
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On Tour
04.09.25 – KILBI, Düdingen, CH
16.10.25 – L’Usine PTR, Geneva, CH
17.10.25 – Rote Fabrik, Zürich, CH
18.10.25 – TPO, Bologna, IT
19.10.25 – BIKO, Milan, IT
21.10.25 – Transbordeur, Lyon, FR
22.10.25 – Wolf, Barcelona, ES
23.10.25 – Sala Copernico, Madrid, ES
24.10.25 – Hard Club, Porto, PT
25.10.25 – LAV, Lisbon, PT
28.10.25 – Le Ferrailleur, Nantes, FR
29.10.25 – L’Aéronef, Lille, FR
30.10.25 – The Garage, London, UK
01.11.25 – Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, UK
04.11.25 – MS Stubnitz, Hamburg, DE
05.11.25 – Loppen, Copenhagen, DK
06.11.25 – Hus 7, Stockholm, SE
08.11.25 – Kuudes Linja, Helsinki, FI
09.11.25 – Paavli Kultuurivabrik, Tallin, EE
10.11.25 – Hydrozagadka, Warsaw, PL
12.11.25 – Fléda, Brno, CZ
14.11.25 – S-klub, Olomouc, CZ
15.11.25 – Palac Akropolis, Prague, CZ
16.11.25 – Frannz Club, Berlin, DE
19.11.25 – De Helling, Utrecht, NL
20.11.25 – Botanique, Brussels, BE
21.11.25 – Le Trabendo, Paris, FR
22.11.25 – La Vapeur, Dijon, FR
04.12.25 – Coupole, Bienne, CH
05.12.25 – Dachstock, Bern, CH
06.12.25 – Kaserne, Basel, CH
12.12.25 – Grabenhalle, St. Gallen, CH
13.12.25 – Schüür, Luzern, CH
Tickets available at www.theyounggods.com
