The story of PTU began with experiments with second-hand synthesizers and bass guitars, driven by a burning need to make "something different." It could have ended with homemade CDs and local gigs alongside other amateur bands at local concerts in Kazan, a remote autonomous area in the south of Russia, where the same musicians would often form new bands by swapping positions behind keyboards or drum machines, or maybe adding a guitarist. At one point, PTU was reconfigured to become Acid Monkey Temple or an industrial band called Potnie Yaponki ("Sweaty Japanese"). For a couple of years, they released field recordings and ambient tracks on a DIY label called Kak Tak ("How Come"), until most of the members grew up, moved to bigger cities and got "real jobs."

That would have been the end of PTU, had two of its members, Alina Izolenta and Kamil Ea, not challenged themselves to grow out the bedroom mindset and get to the front of what they call "techno's stranger sector." Today they are an essential part of Nina Kraviz's Трип label, which will release their next album, Am I Who I Am, this month. An anxious trip through acid, jungle and eerie labyrinths of noise, the album could be a soundtrack to a remake of Tarkovsky's Stalker, one in which the stalker not only walks and crawls but runs and dances in the zone—a rave in the room that grants one's innermost desires.

Kamil begins our interview by stating that he is "just an ordinary person," one without any exceptional talents. For him, PTU reflects years of hard work and practice. Alina is quick to object. "If there's no fire burning from within," she says, "no matter how much you invest in your craft, nothing special will ever come out of it."

When you come from a place hundreds of kilometres away from big cities and cultural capitals, you are pushed to create your own fiction and make the most of it. A self-deprecating sense of humour can be helpful for an artist to stay sane and hopeful in the bleak surroundings of industrial suburbs. The name PTU stands for Professional Technical Schools, a common institution for the working class youth in Russia who can't afford or don't want to study at university. It's both a social stigma and an everyday reality for Kamil and Alina, who were always outsiders in their hometown, yet strongly connected to their circle of creatives and local intellectuals, and aware of how lucky they were to get a proper education and push themselves out of their comfort zone.

"A friend came up with the name 'PTU' when he was walking towards our place one night," Alina explains. "Being called PTU for us means that what you see is what you get."

After several of their group projects fell apart in the mid 2000s, Kamil and Alina took some time off to reflect. Was it possible to make a career in music? Did it make sense to put out more self-released albums and practice live sets in the local clubs? But most importantly, was it even possible to do anything other than music? It took them two years to accept the challenge and push forward.

"When I was not on stage I felt uncomfortable," Alina says. "The stage can be scary sometimes, but when I am onstage, I am at home."

They worked regular jobs to afford the instruments they needed, but for Alina it was hard to lead a "double life." She decided to devote herself solely to music production, because she realised it was the only thing that interested her and the only job she could do properly.

"Making and playing music was a daily routine. If you are constantly producing and learning your instruments every day, you achieve skills whether you want to or not. So if you are truly interested in making music and also have a certain level or curiosity, sooner or later you will not only sharpen your skills but also start to formulate ideas."

In 2013, PTU released their first album on the Moscow-based Incompetence Records, run by their friends Jenya Gorbunov and Andrey Lee. PTU's next international release came out on the German cassette label Silhouette Tapes.

Things took off when they joined Трип, a label they describe as a "springboard" for young producers. PTU's single on When I Was 14 was followed by the excellent A Broken Clock Is Right Twice A Day, and later with a track on the compilation Don't Mess With Cupid, 'Cause Cupid Ain't Stupid.

Am I Who I Am is inspired by cyberpunk, evoking a post-human world where machines continue to exist after humans are gone and an abstract from Orwell's 1984 keeps sounding out in a deserted world. It's PTU's attempt to reconsider mankind's self-centered perception of the world—we think of a post-human world as "our non-existence," although nothing will be "ours" anymore when humanity is gone. The tracks combine the most memorable bits from live performances at parties around the world, including Boiler Room in Moscow, Bassiani in Tbilisi, Berlin Atonal and more intimate performances in Oslo and LA.

Alina and Kamil light up when they speak about Трип. "It's a label with a purpose far beyond selling records," they say. "It is about communication, integrity and music. It feels like Nina created a community she wished to be a part of when she started her music career. She is a person of limitless energy, and she can mediate this energy between other artists."

Kraviz discovered PTU in a post on Nikita Zabelin's Facebook page. "It was the track 'Taorak,'" Kraviz says. "It was like a mini-symphony with every sound standing alone in a transparent silence that's almost palpable. I had never heard anything like this before. I love how they worked with silence and how they build drama by making a pause at just the right moment. Filling the almost sterile sharpness of it with sonics until there is absolutely no space for anything else."

The silence between beats forms a core part of PTU's sound, something they describe in terms of physical presence and absence. This is something they share with Трип and its artists: a combination of production technique and philosophical views on music.

"Alina and Kamil's way of working with sounds is very unique and very contemporary," Kraviz says. "They create a signature futuristic sound palette. You never know what the next second in their songs is about to bring, but it is anxiously clear that it's going to be great."

Part of what makes PTU's music stand out is their utter refusal to go down a beaten path, something that's only possible when you know your machines thoroughly. In the production process, Alina and Kamil act as a filter for each other, intentionally separating their signature sound from more typical production styles.

"This is the great thing about working with a partner," Kamil says. "When one person starts making something predictable, the other one can point out that it has already been done before. We are lucky because each of us has a mirror, a partner who will say, 'This sounds great, but it's not original. You did everything right, but this is deep techno, this has been done thousands of times before.'"

Alina and Kamil do not make music in the same place at the same time, sitting together and jamming as one might expect. Instead, they spend time separately on what they are best at. Alina is an expert in complex textures, and Kamil is more skillful with drums. When the samples are finished and saved, they "invite each other into their work." Each uses the music of the other, adds their individual voice, and makes something special out of it.

Both Kamil and Alina want to hold on in this state where they don't feel quite mature as producers yet and keep surprising and challenging each other. The duo is very sensitive to every lesson they learn when performing on stage or working in the studio, focusing on the inspiring part of the process. Alina and Kamil try to keep the relationship between them and their listeners open and clear, because music is the most honest mirror.

"Sound is what happens inside of your head," Alina says. "And when your head is full of nonsense you won't be able to produce any good ideas or music."