Mon March 15
320 SE 2nd
It's hard to know what to take seriously about Daughters. The post-modern barbarism of their grinding riffs? The ultra-sleazy photo of the band members flexing in a hot tub? The technical epilepsy of drumming?
Providence, RI is a hotbed of seemingly mentally handicapped college dropouts, all of whom seem destined to start bands. Most share the common thread of overflowing potential energy kept in check by apologetic interfaces that many audiences can't help but love. In the case of Daughters, the "good cop" (funny/haha) side of the band is perhaps the method that smoothes over the "bad cop" (grind/spasm/scream) noise that emanates from their debut disc Canada Songs. Perhaps that's why these guys are more likely to be found touring with ex-members of Arab on Radar than with the slew of death metal merchants they more closely resemble.
To take things a step further into artsy minimalist mayhem, Daughter's "full length" album contains 10 songs spanning 11 minutes. But don't feel cheated. This is 11 minutes akin to the most aggressive Converge passages, or Locust bursts of sound damage. The listener who can survive 11 minutes of this is apt to be satisfied, or is invited to masochistically hit repeat for another dose of battery, feedback, and time signatures that have yet to be accurately charted. Probably the best thing about this band is how close every tune comes to derailing into utter chaos, while still somehow maintaining juggernaut intensity and stopping on the dime.
East Coast noise bands are often known for a more slapdash and lowbrow attempt to deconstruct music. It's refreshing to see that some of these kids still put a foundation of chops into the mix.