I was watching The Sound of Music the other night and I found myself unmoved. The pure, unbridled happiness throughout feels very unnatural. It’s all part of the realization that the media I tend to enjoy, movies and music alike, is stuff that’s either sad, scary, or just plain fucked up. Sometimes, I think that perhaps I should lighten up, but then again, why should I when I have albums like this?
Daughters’ first album in eight years is a menacing and unforgiving record. The music is noise, distorted, and dissonant, and reflects the band’s misanthropic nature. This has always been the case with Daughters, but this time, their story is much longer and diverse. Gone are the days of the sub-15-minute explosions of glitchy grindcore and screaming. You Won’t Get What You Want is a much more daunting task, both for the creators and the listeners.
The opener is perhaps my favorite part of the record. With a hint of Suicide’s “Frankie Teardrop”, a muted bass pounds along under an eerie drone. The beat stops momentarily, and then the rest of the cacophonous instrumentation joins in, plunging you right in to what you’ve so bravely submitted yourself.
Each song is supported by its own heart-pounding engine of bass and a demented electronic hum. Alexis Marshall’s vocals are deranged, unhinged, and urgent, as if trapped in a deadly predicament, hoping to be rescued. But that rescue never comes, and with each new idea, the album strikes another blow against the stability of the mind.
Even with its constant energy, You Won’t Get What You Want still manages to be diverse. There is a mix of punk, metal, art rock, and jazz, each given a tinge of anger and panic. The album flows very well; it’s clear that Daughters’ ideas are carefully thought out and pieced together in a way that makes as much sense as music like this could ever hope to do.
This album is surely not for the faint of heart, but that’s surely what Daughters intends. It’s still an album in which one could sit down and immerse themselves. All it takes is an open mind, and maybe a little bit of masochism.
Ryan Reviews Music 