Waterfalls of sweat, humongous dildos, torn anuses, tight leather suits (that leave little to the imagination) and the delicious pain one can feel in some dark cave (or dungeon) -where souls wander silently, waiting for nightfall and the power of the prohibited taking over their bodies. There's no reason to fear it, particularly if you watch all this from the bar. This string of obscenities (for some of you) is what comes to mind when listening closely to the debut album by Trust, a Canadian duo revitalising the repetitive sequences of EBM. They explore progressive waves of a kind of electronic pop - of bad vibes and dark nightmares that would feed dark wave in the eighties - incorporating, on top of that, the rhythms of The Knife and the Gameboy sounds of Crystal Castles. At this point, nobody would have given two cents for the vindication of Wolfsheim or Covenant by modern musicians; nobody but them.
Trust are Maya Postepski, drummer of Austra, and Robert Alfons, a photographer who has shot pop artists like Little Boots and Peaches. If we look for similarities between the leather fetishists and Katie Stelmanis' band, we'll find that both share a fascination with synthetic rhythms, from the golden age of machine driven pop. However, Trust gives the affair a twist, drenching their synth-pop in an opaque darkness that is intimidating at first. Robert is to blame for this uneasiness, with his grotesque intonation (somewhere between Philip Oakey and Paul Banks, were they possessed by Cthulhu) he is capable of fuelling the nightmares of anyone hearing his songs for the first time. An unsettling feeling during the first listen is part of the deal.
But once the initial shock has faded, what sticks in your head are some tracks invoking the old demons of the dance floor. The frenzy - from the moment the unnerving “Shoom” starts - doesn't stop (except on the already known “Candy Walls” and “Chrissy E”, on which Robert demonstrates that, with a good falsetto, one can end up sweetening any track by Dead Or Alive). Whether scratching the walls of the tracks with industrial meets Goth beats (“Bulbform”, the essential “The Last Dregs” and “Gloryhole”, a lascivious declaration of intent), accelerating the techno beats to little over 100 BPM (“Dressed For Space”), or even using the suffocating, poppy moods of witch house (“Heaven”), “TRST” is a magnificent piece of work - championing the gothic-electronic revival for our disorienting present. So far, no other record released this year has left me so affected.