Twist it in!

Broad: I've been on this big Scottish music binge the last few days: Belle and Sebastian, Camera Obscura, C-86 and Sons and Daughters.

Particular: Sons and Daughters have been close to being one of my favorite bands since sometime late-2006. This Gift, their latest, is one of my personal most anticipated records of 2008. Well it's out and I have it so there's no more anticipation, just this review!

Sons and Daughters are subdued intensity. Their last two efforts, Love the Cup EP and the Repulsion Box, were the sound of a folk group comprised of angry people that had seen too much. Vocalists Adele Bethel and Scott Patterson (singers of harmonies that evoke Exene Cerevenka and John Doe of X) spent their records in a dingy, cramped one-lightbulb-room disaffectedly crooning tales of lovers turned against one another, unsolved horrific murders and one bloody telephone receiver. All of this with barely a distorted guitar or battered drum-set. This Gift, produced by British mixing board (sort-of) mastermind Bernard Butler, leaves the room behind in favor of the graveyard, bringing with it a swoon-worthy wall of chorus laden guitars and Adele's sometimes sexual vocal come-ons.

"Gilt Complex" doesn't wait for anyone, welcoming you with a piercing three-note call to fight while Adele sings about what sort-of becomes a theme throughout the record: people who fuck other people over then get fucked over themselves, whether it be through physical pain or otherwise. Whether it was Bernard's intention or the band's, "Split Lips" is an apparent Smiths homage that, despite the obvious correlation, is an early album highlight and one of their best-ever tunes. The shimmery acoustic guitar intro and rolling drums courtesy powerhouse simpleton David Gow are a dead give away but they give "Lips" this edgy-as-fuck pop feel and provide the perfect backdrop to a story that details a car accident stricken attention whore. Adele says "Who cares?" It's dangerously hot in here.

The great pacing of the early part of the album continues through the bare bones stomp of "The Nest" which pines and pleads for an easy way to fall in love with a sixteen year old boy who may or may not be the narrator's son. "Rebel With the Ghost" pairs Sons and Daughters with na-na's, whoa-oh's and a chorus fit for early Spoon. The first notable vocal contribution from Patterson comes with thanks (but that's not to say Adele doesn't deliver, she does, but you gotta love the low-end) via "Chains" which builds quickly, the two swapping positions at the mic until a soaring/roaring finish.

The record's first and only slip comes during the title track, which despite a ballsy and driving first twenty-five seconds, features an annoying set of imbalanced wah-oohs from Adele and Scott before diving back into that churning Scottish ocean of a guitar riff. The chorus delivers more goodies than their first two records brought, rendering the early misstep forgotten.

"Darling" follows, the album's strong second single, and makes twisting a knife into an ex-lover seem fun, satisfying and completely non-guilt inducing.

The mark of any great album, the last bit which just makes itself seem so final, begins with the excellent and kind of anthemic "Flags." It rages against compromise, something that Sons and Daughters have totally avoided with this record. Despite hooking up with an oft-maligned former rock star of a producer and sprucing up their sound with (gasp!) overdubs and filling in sonic holes, they managed to not fall into any kind of traps many other bands in their position could've (*cough* Against Me! *cough*). With every song comes a seemingly standard pop hook laced with way-more-sinister-than-average lyrics as sung by one of British music's most unsung heroines. Rather than misguided "progress" or "change," S&D have instead achieved their rightful place as potential saviors of the Queen's music. Hopefully, younger bands follow suit and rather than picking up an acoustic guitar and a drug habit in an effort to be the next Pete Doherty (oh, but imitation of my hero is a sincere, albeit saturated, form of flattery) they take cues from this sexually balanced Scottish outfit: look at the seedier part of town, think about how fucked up it was that girl cheated on you and write a catchy pop song.

"Darling"


"Gilt Complex"


"Johnny Cash" (from Love the Cup)


Sons and Daughters on M-space

In other news, Super Tuesday was sweet (I'm still hungover from all that delegate speculation and counting!), it's almost the weekend. I worked with Gab tonight and didn't talk to her but I think I will tomorrow. I hope you liked my Sons and Daughters review, it pretty much exhausted me!