Daughters!: Canada Songs

Warning: If you haven’t yet ‘got’ what The Locust are all about then stop reading now. RIGHT NOW. This isn’t for the likes of you. If you’re not yet ready to comprehend how heavy music is evolving, how it’s dislocating itself from nu-metal angst-whoring, from gimmick-ridden maggot-breeding and meaningless Amen-esque obscenity-spewing; if you’re unable to fathom how insanely heavy music could possibly become seditiously challenging once more, then I’m afraid Daughters' genius will be permanently lost on you. I'm sorry.

If the rest of you have been left mouth agape since the mind-boggling noise-scapes of The Locust first shaved ten years of NME-caked grime off your ears then I suppose you’re about ready for Daughter’s sonic irrigation. So, take a deep breath and prepare yourself. Close your eyes and grit your teeth. What you are about to hear when you slip this baby in and press play is something only the most open-minded should be privy to. Completely obliterating style and form and taking a stranglehold on prudent creativity, Daughters’ chaotically freeform approach reconfigures the way melody and noise is assimilated through some of the most fiercely challenging experimentation probably ever attempted.

It’s nothing short of intense. With 14 tracks spread over 15 minutes this is a rabid cut ‘n’ slash firebomb of splintered art-core and lacerating guitar shrieks that mixes a precise math-grind assault with the blood-boiling rage of their previous metal-core band As The Sun Sets. From the moment it detonates you are constantly being pummelled into submission by what sounds like a 200mph swarm of robotic killer hornets from the planet Lightning Bolt, on a mission to destroy all music forever. A scathing, shrieking, yet beautifully synchronised assault, they make Dillinger Escape Plan sound like Daniel O' Donnell. Singing lullabies. To Hanson. On a mountain top. In Ireland.

Every twist and turn, every broken guitar chord and every psychotic drum stutter is fresh and new. Everything is taken to the extremes, yet not for the sake of being as technical as possible. For what Daughters communicate is an emotion that transcends technicality, exuding a power and velocity that exhibits fearlessly audacious ways of manipulating noise and fusing it with the most atonal of melodic guitar squeals. And the best thing about it is it all makes complete sense.

Buy this, then go see them in September. You should be adequately prepared by then. This UK tour also coincides with a split 7” with similarly frenetic art-noise merchants Ex-Models.