Sons & Daughters
This Gift
Domino, 2008
By Jess Skinner
According to my vast cultural knowledge, Scotland is a country full of comically angry janitors and hipster heroin addicts. But, with native group Sons & Daughters’ newest album, I can add skilled pop troubadours to that list. This Gift may not be the best release of the new year, but it might compete for the catchiest. Here’s a group quite content to eschew experimentation in favour of speed and agility, at times effortlessly implanting melodies and hooks into the listener’s brain. How appropriate that the debut single is called “Gilt Complex” (sic) — it’s so jumpy and happy that it can’t be cool, can it? (I remember coming across the video accidentally and repeatedly denying to myself its inescapable hold on me. But I gave in.) Whether they admit it or not, critics hate music like this: it’s easy to like, but damn near impossible to write about. What exactly is going on in “Gilt Complex” that makes it so irresistible?
Sons & Daughters are very much like good food, in that they satisfy with no questions asked. Sure, I could find benefits and flaws, ups and downs — all of which are present throughout the album — but to do so would be to deny its nature. I could break it down for you, but that would be like scanning my chicken dinner. Like a ’60s relic, This Gift has an almost solitary focus: making you fuckers dance, and dance quickly, ‘cause we haven’t got all day. “Darling” shimmies and shuffles around words that may or may not qualify as nonsense, as does the near-perfect “House in My Head.” Nonsense, when done correctly, leads to a pleasant rumble. Both of these songs are supreme highlights, by far the most appreciable on the disc.
The sound, produced by Bernard Butler (formerly of Brit-pop pioneers Suede), is electric but smooth; there are no fuzzy, eardrum-kicking solos or blasts of noise. Frontwoman Adele Bethel has an unassuming voice, slyly peppered with touches of her natural accent – think “‘ouse in my-ed.” You might say that it channels the natural tones without exploiting them. Without her, the band probably wouldn’t be worth half of what it is. It’s been a while since rock music forgot how to be sexy, but there are still a few bands capable of pulling it off.
The best thing I can tell you is that in its 40 minutes, This Gift wastes no time. Like all pop, it bears you no ill will; give it a couple good spins and it’ll service your immediate needs. Underneath those hooks may be intelligent words and complexity, but for the most part, This Gift is something to chew on, not digest.
