Throughout the years Laibach have forged a legacy that extends beyond music (as one of the most influential acts in the industrial genre and its many derivations), constituting no less than a cultural phenomenon. Because the very premise of the project eludes, and often twists, the common expectations of modern consumer culture (such as a clear message or a “positioning”, often moralistic, on a given subject), this phenomenon hasn’t quite been deciphered by its frequently bewildered witnesses after all this time – specially those who insist in classifying them with labels such as “fascists”, “communists”, etc, reproducing that archaic magical idea according to which an entity looses its “power” if it is named. From their role in challenging the late Yugoslav state and fostering an independent Slovenia to their historic performance in North Korea (which their fellow citizen and admirer Slavoj Zizek has called “the most fascinating cultural, ideological and political event of the 21st century”), the band (although artistic collective would perhaps be a better designation) has always remained enigmatic and controversial.
Their latest work, “Alamut”, released in March, is based on the novel of the same name by Vladimir Bartol which explores the famous story of Hasan-i Sabbah and his Order of Assassins.
We had the honor of interviewing the band, hopefully shedding some light on this mysterious entity and its workings – we should always keep in mind, however, that some things can only be revealed, or hinted at, by concealment.
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Your new work, “Alamut”, deals more directly with an element that I believe to be latent in all of your previous work: religion. What is the role of religious sentiment in Laibach’s ongoing exploration of power? Your music, imagery, presentation and stage presence often invokes the trappings commonly associated with rituality.
Alamut is based on historical facts but deals primarily with ideological manipulation. In the novel this manipulation takes the form of religion, but today it can be understood far more universally. Its central maxim – “Nothing is true, everything is permitted” – anticipates our own time of artificial intelligence, digital propaganda and social media, where truth itself is continually deformed and relativised.
Religion has, of course, always been present in Laibach’s work, sometimes directly, sometimes as a latent subtext. Power and religion are inseparable; one cannot exist without the other. Religion is the oldest operating system of power, based on belief and manipulation, and every political ideology – whether monarchist, communist, fascist, capitalist, or liberal-democratic – borrows from its liturgies, symbols and structures.
As for rituality – every concert is also a ritual, every stage an altar, every audience a congregation. Rituals (and ritualities) are instruments of faith, and faith is the ultimate technology of power. Laibach inhabits this system but dissecting its sacred machinery.
You have previously referred to the behind-the-scenes omnipresence of power, disguised as soft power, in the (post-)modern, capitalist and consumerist “free societies”. Analogously, would you also say that there is a religious aspect to the way of life of supposedly secular (post-)modernity?
Of course! Secular modernity only pretends to be free of religion; in truth, it has merely exchanged one theology for another. Consumerism, nationalism, human rights, entertainment, technology – all function as new religions, complete with their own dogmas, rituals, and sacred symbols. To put it simply: sporting and public spectacles are religious ceremonies, advertising is prayer, shopping malls are cathedrals, algorithms are oracles, and celebrities are saints. The supposed “freedom” of secular societies is, in fact, a carefully managed faith system. Only the liturgy has changed. The religious instinct remains, because without belief there can be no power.
Laibach has assumed a wide variety of styles and tactics throughout its career. Is it fair to say that your core mission/ideology has remained the same, but the strategy keeps changing in accordance with the times?
Yes, you can say it like that. Laibach is not defined by a single style but by a method. Our core mission has always been the same: to explore and expose the relationship between culture, ideology, and power. Strategies and aesthetics inevitably shift with time and context – because the manipulative language of power is constantly changing its costume. We adapt accordingly.
Your 2014 album, “Spectre”, for example, displayed a very marked shift in musical style and aesthetics, with the focus likewise changing from the totalitarianisms of the past to the more contemporary political trends of neoliberalism and globalism. What do you have to say about this switch?
Spectre was not a change of strategy, but of target practice – a continuation of the same method applied to a different historical context.
Your album “Sketches from the Red Districts”, recalls the early days of Laibach’s formation. Can you talk about the influence of the late Soviet and Yugoslav environment on your project and its trends?
Sketches from the Red Districts returns to the landscape of our origins, to the city of Trbovlje in the early 1980s, itself shaped by late socialist proletarianism and communism. However – as you probably know – Yugoslavia was not aligned with the Soviet Union, but remained more open to the West. This created an unusual fusion of Western and Eastern influences in both art and political ideology, which Laibach readily exploited. Nevertheless, we were fairly well acquainted with the current Russian aesthetic trends and, when necessary and occasionally, we also drew inspiration from them.
Besides the thematic dimension, you are also considered trailblazers on the purely musical level. With this in mind, were there any previous references (genres, artists, bands, experiments) that inspired your composition?
Every music is a composition of influences – nothing comes from nothing. Our sound emerged from the clash between aesthetics and authority, rather than from any specific genre. We drew from classical music, military marches, industrial noise, electronic experimentation, and popular culture alike. We don’t seek inspiration; we appropriate it. History itself is our main composer. But to satisfy your curiosity – we listened to just about everything, from classical music to electronic and electroacoustic avant-garde, and the whole spectrum of pop music. And we found pearls everywhere.
One of the aspects of your music that has garnered the most attention is your unique approach to covers, from pop classics like The Beatles to national anthems. What is the role of these covers in the overarching mission/modus operandi of Laibach?
Covers – or reinterpretations and reworkings – are one of Laibach’s key methods for exposing the ideology embedded within popular culture. By transforming existing songs – from pop hits to national anthems – we uncover their latent language and the ideological mechanisms woven into them. Every song carries a political or cultural charge, even when it pretends to be mere entertainment. By altering context, tone, and form, we reveal that what people perceive as “original” is itself a construct. In this sense, our ‘covers’ are not tributes but acts of deconstruction and re-appropriation – a way of showing that deeper truths are always more complex than what gleams on the surface.
Over the course of more than 40 years, you have been consistently embroiled in controversy, having been targeted by many different entities and denounced as far-right, far-left, fascist, nazi, communist, etc. Looking back on your career, and how much social and cultural dynamics have changed in the meantime, how do you feel about modern means of censorship (and so-called “cancel culture”) when compared to the type of prosecution you’ve faced earlier in Yugoslavia?
Censorship never vanishes; it mutates. What once wore the uniform of the State now hides behind the face of the Market, or the moral crowd. In Yugoslavia, censorship was institutional, direct, and bureaucratic – today it is algorithmic, moralistic, and social. Once, you faced the State; now, you face the Market – or the Crowd. What hasn’t changed is the intolerance toward truth. “Cancel culture” is simply a democratic version of totalitarian reflexes – driven not by authority, but by conformity. For Laibach, censorship has always been both a provocation and a creative engine. It draws the lineand the boundaries we are meant to cross.
Regarding your famous and controversial performance in North Korea, you have responded to backlash with the statement that your concerts are never endorsements of the regime that hosts them or the country where they happen to take place; furthermore, you also cared to emphasize how enriching the experience was and how much you learned about the country, its people and its geopolitical situation. Did the same happen with your recent experience with Iranian composers and plans to perform in Iran?
Yes, absolutely. Iran, much like North Korea, is often portrayed through a narrow ideological filter, largely shaped by biased Western media. Our experience, however, was far more complex and deeply inspiring. Working with Iranian composers and musicians opened a profound dialogue about art, censorship, and forms of resistance – subjects we all understood well, though from different perspectives. We don’t go to places like Iran to preach or provoke, but to listen, to learn, and to build symbolic bridges where others see only walls. Every such encounter broadens and enriches our understanding of the world – and of ourselves.
You were considered “dissidents” in Communist Yugoslavia during the first phase of your career. After all these years and the vertiginous changes that accompanied them, and having now achieved worldwide fame and recognition, what is your role in the contemporary world? Do you still see yourselves as “dissidents”?
The label dissident once had a clear meaning, but today it has become a commodity. In a world where rebellion has turned into a lifestyle and conformity wears the mask of freedom, the true dissident is the one who still dares to think independently and is willing to fight against windmills.
We were never dissidents in the traditional sense – we always operated within systems, exposing their contradictions from the inside. During the general chaos and disintegration in the former Yugoslavia, we were, in fact, demanding more state, not less, while everyone else was busy dismantling it.
If anything, Laibach remains today faithful above all to disobedience itself. In the contemporary world, this may be the only meaningful form of resistance left.
Any concluding remarks you’d like to conclude the interview with? Anything special or relevant that we’ve missed?
You’ve missed a lot. You’ll have to find out yourself. We won’t tell you – we never do. What remains unsaid is what endures.
