Coherence is a trait that most musicians strive for in their songwriting. Rhode Island band Daughters, however, originally took a different approach, seeking instead to create disjointed structures and illogical rhythms. Their debut not-so-full length album, 2003’s Canada Songs, barely reaches longer than ten minutes, which is actually longer than most can endure. Vocalist Alexis Marshall’s shrieks layer in perfect disharmony with a shrill collection of minor seconds courtesy of guitarist Nicholas Sadler, all while a throbbing rhythm section punches out a sorry excuse for a time signature.
The band refused to limit itself to this sound, though, and 2006’s Hell Songs made sure Daughters wouldn’t be forgotten in a mere blur of discordance. Marshall traded in his high pitched howl for a voice best likened to the demonic possession of a drug-binging Elvis Presley, and the band’s musicianship took its first step towards coherence, while still refusing to completely dismiss its signature dissonance.
With its latest eponymous release, Daughters has stepped even further out of line from its contemporaries in the grindcore scene. Daughters’s sound is equal parts abrasion and pop sensibility, and for the first time the band seems to understand the benefits of carrying consistent rhythms for longer than a few measures. While this may be bad news for long-time fans, it’s great for obtaining a new audience.
Songs like “The Hit” and “The Theatre Goer” reflect the band’s transition toward accessibility, and even demonstrate a degree of radio friendliness. They each carry steady, obliterating rhythms and riffs reminiscent of label mates Harvey Milk and the Melvins-worshipping Big Business, but still push boundaries thanks to the vocal delivery and swelling atmospherics.
“The Dead Singer” hums like a four and a half minute revival of The Jesus Lizard with a consistent drone and thumping low end that wouldn’t feel out of place on Liar. “Sweet Georgia Bloom” deconstructs the blues in a way that would make Robert Johnson turn over in his grave, augmented by Marshall’s rockabilly croon.
But the most remarkable part of this album is delivered in “Our Queens” and “The Unattractive, Portable Head.” Here, Daughters’s newfound catchiness thrives. The former starts off with a buildup that reaches its breaking point around halfway through, and after crashing into a decompressing silence, comes back full force with swagger and tambourine. The latter finds its grooviness in the simplicity of a handclap. With these tracks, the band has created songs that will force fans to dance with their feet instead of their fists.
If recent swirling rumors of Daughters’s demise prove true, the band couldn’t have created a more fitting end. Daughters carries trace elements of the band that wrote Canada Songs seven years ago, but shows that in the band members’ progression toward coherence, they’ve realized that music can more of a punch if people will actually listen to it.
Voice’s Choices: “Sweet Georgia Bloom,” “The Unattractive Portable Head”
