Year Of Metal #012: Daughters - Daughters
We’re again slipping into the realms of debatably not metal. I’ve taken a brief measure of internet opinion and no one seems to care too much one way or the other. Daughters certainly seem to exist somewhere on the periphery of metal and noise rock, and while they’d glide into something a little more easily digestible for 2018’s terrific You Won’t Get What You Want, for my money the oomph and aggression of this 2010 self titled record makes it worthy for inclusion.
Tracks like “The First Supper”, for example, are so punishingly thick that you’d be hard pushed not to lump it in with the devil’s music. Daughters can do so much with a paucity of melody. This is a property, dynamic, pit starting track built around a couple of notes and the odd wriggling squawk of siren-like guitar. Halfway through, they shed what little melody remains in place, grinding and chipping away until what’s left is menacing and industrial. Finally we’re left with just a roar of drums, which lasts just long enough to push past the zone of comfort.
There are, surprisingly, shades of bands like Devo on tracks like standout “The Theater Goer”, which bubbles over with energy in the cascading runs to the chorus. The cacophony of percussion is offset by alien guitar sounds and the ever present yelping of vocalist Alexis Marshall (who, it must be noted, has a chequered past behaviourally speaking, and has been accused publically of various forms of domestic and sexual abuse by former partner Kristin Hayter aka Lingua Ignota; Marshall has denied the allegations).
It’s surprising just how much a record like this can be packed with character given its self imposed limitations. There’s little room for light and shade; rather, it’s 28 minutes of thumping noise, everything louder than everything else, and the listener is encouraged to dig around for the cool bits. I love the guitar playing by Nick Sadler, who is consistently finding pockets of space to play in, away from the piles of bass and drums. On “Our Queens (One Is Many, Many Are One)” he chips in with great, scraping runs that cut above everything else perfectly, a spiky, aggy aural palate cleanser.
The album’s final crowning statement is closer “The Unattractive, Portable Head”, in which Daughters sound like they’ve finally lost their grip for good. It’s a release of tension done perfectly, the last molecules of tunefulness stripped away, the bass rumbling on one note for minutes at a time, a fairground organ which sounds like it’s being operated by a maniac. Then a last surprise - a downright anthemic “whoa / yeah” coda. It’s a little reminiscent of one of my favourite bands, Th’ Faith Healers, at their baggy, hypnotic best, only here the hypnotist is a lot more fiendish.
