Hailing from Istanbul, ELZ and The Cult are a goth-electro trio influenced by a wide range of artists from the darker elements of SOFAD-era Depeche Mode and Pure-era Gary Numan to the titanium-plated industrial of Marilyn Manson and carefully-crafted melodies of Sisters Of Mercy. Formed in 2013, the band impressively achieved international recognition with their debut single, I Did This To Myself and ramped up a series of nominations and awards including Best Electro band at the LA Akademia Music Awards (2017).
Opening with the dense, claustrophobic bass synth of My Hate Song the band quickly grab the attention of the listener. Although there is considerable industrial weight to the music, the overall effect is to cleave closer to EBM than metal, an impression furthered by the wordless vocalisations that swirl through the mix as the stuttering beats ramp up in intensity towards the song’s conclusion. In contrast, the taut beat of Horrified is paired with a Dave Gahan croon and sexual swagger caught somewhere between World In My Eyes and the goth scene that spat out Bauhaus and Siouxsie and the Banshees. With Eylul Deniz’s industrial-strength synths set to stun, it’s a powerful track and a likely dancefloor filler, as is Ultraviolence, with its chanted chorus and hypnotic beat. A brief segue appears next in the form of the creepy I Just Want To Be Loved, a track that tips a nod to the bizarre sound collages of Bowie’s 1. Outside before a stabbing 303 sequence kicks off Safe Zone, the vocals masked behind layers of glitchy noise. A dark-hearted piece that takes the album to a different place altogether, particularly as it concludes in layers of scraped noise, Safe Zone is immediately followed by the mangled clubland horror of Villain / Victim, which plays out like an aggressive chase scene filtered through Nine Inch Nails Fixed EP as cut up laughter slashes across the relentless bass beat.
With the album having turned away from its initial fascination with late 80s goth and plunged head first into deviant, pulsing industrial of a thousand S&M clubs, the second half emerges with the eerie Different Blood, a schizophrenic piece that suddenly unleashes a wave of fractured guitar, filling in the holes between the groaning synths and capturing a sense of urban decay that is as uncomfortable as it is enthralling. Another segue, the robotic Canavar, further drags the album toward the underbelly of a city groaning under the weight of its own perversions, before the music slithers into the queasy Masturbate About You, a song of isolation and obsession that is the sonic equivalent of Se7en’s deviant killer. As such, the Euro-synth beat of Brainfreeze is something of a relief, as it elevates the listener away from the album’s increasingly uncomfortable core. Paranoya (sic) further humanises the album, and if the awkward, layered vocals of the chorus do much to articulate the unease implicit in the title, at least the protagonist appears to be concerned about his descent into a Lynchian world of psycho-sexual impulses. The album concludes with Damage Unknown, a track that brings the album full circle as it returns to the velveteen sounds of My Hate Song, as if the depravity at the album’s heart had never existed. A powerful closer that leaves the listener anxious to listen again, lest the jaded horror of Different Blood and Masturbate About You were mere figments of an overheated imagination, Damage Unknown brings the curtain down on an eclectic album that seeks to outpace the listener’s expectations at every turn.
At the outset, Bloodline comes across as a competent, if slightly predictable outing in EBM. The dense, overdriven synths and glacial vocals of My Hate Song suggest a wander down a well-worn path whilst the dance-floor friendly beats of Ultraviolence underscore the band’s ambitions. However, from the moment that the uncomfortable segue of I Just Want To Be Loved emerges, blinking into the light, the downward spiral begins, culminating in the utter depravity of Masturbate About You, a deeply uncomfortable paean to lust redolent of salt-stained leather and old sweat. The result is an album of depth and darkness, delivered with all the theatrical panache and musical flair of Antichrist-era Marilyn. A seedy and salacious effort that is well worth exploring. 8.5
