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May 19, 2010 Daughters By J. Pace

Witness the sad tale of a band folding after their best album. This one is apparently the last offering from this Daughters lineup, and will not be toured due to the band dissolving. Accounts vary, as does the level of Internet shit-talking, but one explanation, offered by singer Alexis Marshall in an interview, is that this one stretched too far into the realm of the suspiciously commercial—and yeah, in a way that’s true. Earlier fare was definitely less accessible, a kind of arty grindcore/noise rock collage, with straight-up screamed vocals, blast-beats, and recordings of a much more modest budget.

On this self-titled (and, sadly, posthumous) release you get a refined vision. The grindcore aspect is left behind in favor of more low-end grooves, Marshall dives completely into the David Yow territory he mined on last year’s Hell Songs, and the tunes are more straightforward structure-wise.

The recording is also very much a pro job, but really this makes the blitzkrieg all the more explosive. There’s no giant compromise here: it’s still a huge wreck of noise, ruthlessly delivering the Providence staples of dueling dissonant guitars and frantic bombast. The guitar playing is the perfect application of today’s effect pedals to traditional noise rock sounds, recalling Melt Banana as much as such local predecessors as Six Finger Satellite or Arab on Radar.

And the grooves—oh man, the grooves. They lock you right in—off the bat with the sliding bassline of “The Virgin,” the staccato pummeling of “The First Supper,” or the self-fulfilling riff prophecy of that octave riff gracing “The Hit.”

So: is it more accessible? Yes, it is. Radio-friendly? Hell no. It’s called evolution, and Daughters did it a little too well, apparently, evolving themselves right into the dustbin. R.I.P. and thanks for a crushing swan song. (www.myspace.com/daughters1)

Author rating: 7/10