Sons and Daughters
This Gift
Domino Records
By Miriam Lamey
What does it really mean to describe music as “dynamic”? Do the musicians do backflips onstage? Or do they all play each other’s instruments? More often than not, the term is used as a lazily succinct way to say that a band has range, creativity and imagination, plus the ability to convey artistic progression over time.
In reality, few bands are this perceptive and lack longevity, such that they fail to deserve the “dynamic” description. However, after listening to Sons and Daughters' latest album This Gift, the Glaswegian quartet prove they are worthy to be called “dynamic.” This Gift is refreshingly different from the band’s previous releases; the lighter, less mature, Love the Cup , or the abrasive, Repulsion Box. With This Gift, Sons and Daughters neatly changed musical direction, but remain true to their signature clean riffs and arching lead vocals. The latest album aptly illustrates the quartet’s musical capability and knack for communicating powerful images, ideas and thoughts through their work.
This Gift kicks off with the exotic riffs of “Gilt Complex” – a strong, heavy piece that refrains from being sickly or thick with distortion, thanks to the solid guitar riff repetition and singer Adele Bethel's disdainfully sexy vocals. It’s Blondie-like, but with a smattering of Bjork’s darker beauty – a sense that cleverly slithers throughout the album. Bethel retains a unique fierceness while her voice cuts through the strong, sharp guitars and ominously pounding drums on heartbreakingly thick tunes, such as “The Nest." She sings sweetly, darky, asking for no sympathy, yet seducing with her voice. The piece is vaguely retro, conjuring up thoughts of the Rolling Stones’ brazen sexuality and uninhibited instrumentation.
Sons and Daughters’ shift moods with the jumpier, almost danceable “Chains.” The swingy, almost bluesy piece plays with slightly sweetier, poppier vocals, haunting background melodies that maintain This Gift’s underlying danger vibe. Such a sentiment hits a peak on the album’s title track – an electrifying explosion of jangly guitars, tinny drums, almost catcall harmonies and punky, forceful riffs. Bethel’s vocals determinedly push through this, but still manage to glitter with a hint of her Scottish accent, making the whole piece the tiniest bit vulnerable and all the more compelling.
“House in My Head” is the album’s other outstanding track and the intro certainly wouldn’t sound out of place on a James Bond film soundtrack. The tune's '60s aura works well and builds a greater contrast between the lead melody and backing vocals. It’s another clean, powerful piece that smacks you up against the wall, holding you breathless until both voices match in a weirdly imploring chorus, soaring high over heavy, fast drums and throaty riffs. Like the rest of This Gift, the track bursts with emotion, not in sugary layers, or fuzzy layered tunes; it’s honest, tight and raw, without being unpolished or amateur.
Whether or not This Gift highlights Sons and Daughters’ talent, it certainly proves they understand the art of making music. Or rather, it illustrates how well they allow a part of themselves to seep into the music. This album is strong and full of risqué taunts; it entices listeners and brutally slaps them in the face. Yet the band achieves this and lay themselves bare in each track; the end result is a work that’s disturbing, beautiful and grown-up. Dare I say, “dynamic”?
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