[Originally published on Orange.co.uk]“That was a song to kill your girlfriend to. This is one to kill yourself to.”
From any other band, such throwaway nihilism might amount to little more than posturing: but no one familiar with Sons & Daughters’ macabre fetishism can doubt their devotion to the cause. Here to showcase their third and most fully-realised album to date – the Bernard Butler-produced The Gift – the Glasgow quartet arrive at tonight’s headline date on the cusp of a long-awaited commercial breakthrough.
Central to their visceral appeal lies singer Adele Bethel. Appearing on-stage in an ultra-revealing slip of a number, her rapturous banshee wails and spasmodic tambourine-thrashing suggest not so much a front-woman as a Dionysian force of nature. Scott Paterson’s growling vocals prove themselves a menacing counterpoint to Bethel’s, while adding a touch of loucheness to proceedings.
Crucially, the band now have the material to back up their ferocious live reputation. Newies such as the Franz Ferdinand-gone-feral intensity of former single ‘Gilt Complex’ and the yearning Morrissey inflections of ‘The Bell’ slip effortlessly into the cannon, while old favourites ‘Dance Me In’ and ‘Johnny Cash’ – the latter re-worked to channel the raw claustrophobia of the Stooges – have lost none of their lusty impact through over-familiarity.
Ploughing a furrow of heady, apocalyptic Roots'n'Roll, Sons & Daughters’ enthralling evocation of rock’s dark side stands up to comparison with Tom Waits and Nick Cave, twin demigods of that particular pantheon. You wouldn’t want to get too close, but from a distance it makes for a hellishly thrilling spectacle.
