Ingre Graf and Walter Ebert formed their Vienna-based duo ZYX in 1977 with the intention of commiting themselves to the aestheticisation of everyday life in all fields of art, with their musical output being accompanied by video, photography and graphic design equally influenced by Pop Art, Futurism and Dadaism. Originally released on RCA Music back in 1981, ‘Trust No Woman’ offers up the duo’s debut (and so far only) album, with US label Dark Entries offering up a welcome reissue of this long out of print early electro obscurity on vinyl for the first time in more than three decades. From the very outset, there’s certainly an obvious eccentric / absurdist edge to the ten tracks collected here that calls to mind the likes of early Yello, crossed with the likes of Cabaret Voltaire and early-period Human League.
For the most part ZYX construct their naggingly compelling minimalist electro-pop songs around analogue synths, robotic drum machine grooves and curiously controlled vocals in English that resemble stream of consciousness dialogue more than anything else. On ‘Hey You’, Graf’s deep mannered vocals call to mind some meeting point between Suicide and Kraftwerk as punching mechanical rhythms glide against howling analogue synth swells, the stacked cold synths that build in the background forging the kind of territory that the likes of Depeche Mode would soon mark out as their own. ‘Little Boys Desires’ meanwhile gets more creepy and subliminal as icy synths float out over clicking, brittle beatbox rhythms and analogue bass burbles in one of the more motorik-tinged moments on offer here, Graf’s murmuring vocals offering a ghostly presence amidst the glittering electronics as the cold synths bleed out into a haze at the track’s conclusion.
Elsewhere, ‘Mawkish’ takes things out on an eerie disco-tinged wander through buzzing synth bursts and pulsing bass grooves that sees Graf’s deadpan spoken vocal providing a humorous counterpoint to the smooth backing harmonies, the chaotic, almost gamecore synth solo that emerges halfway heightening the ramshackle edges. It’s closing track ‘What Do You Live For’ though that offers up what’s arguably this album’s most spectacular moment, as ticking metronomic rhythms trace a path over murmuring bass and phased analogue synths as thick as a pool of blood, Graf’s spoken vocal bringing the noirish atmosphere into sharp focus as it emerges into the foreground. It’s notable just well a lot of the material has dated here, with the excellent remastering job resulting in a quality reissue of an album that definitely deserves much wider recognition.
