Daughter

I know nothing about Daughter. I know only what I've recently heard. But I know I know all I needs to know to know that they're all I've needed since the earth decided to turn my habitat all tundra on a motherfucker.

The cold has been fucking incessant, and if wasn't for a few dozen random hours above freezing, we've been in the frozen food section of hip hop for forever it seems. (HASHTAG HIP HOP)

But I'm not complaining. I don't necessarily need to feel my fucking toes anyway. 

One of the things that's been keeping my attention while the world waits to thaw is the new album from Daughter. While my extremities are numb, I don't think I've been this easily and uncomfortably in love with an album in forever. The beauty defiantly outshines the bleak on Not to Disappear. The cinematic and throbbing and galloping percussion behind the seemingly dainty vocalist (that never seems to fully open her mouth) is so eerily gorgeous I can't help but picture a little girl pulling her "wagon" that's actually a two ton truck. 

From her simple mantra-like muttering on "New Ways" of "I'm trying to get out, find a subtle way out, not just my cross my self out, I mean just disappear", to "me better, me better, you better make me better" on the track "Numbers", I get that sinking feeling like I'm guiltily watching a therapy session unfold. Yet, instead of Daughter holding on to any feeling of embarrassment, it's me who's ashamed I didn't look away the instant I knew what I was snooping in on. 

But maybe that's what Daughter's gig is.

Maybe Daughter, with its Massive Attack meets Beth Orton meets some odd sort of Maybeshewill sound, is so definitive because it's so fucking personal it can only resonate within you if you feel the guilt of having discovered how fucking therapeutic it feels to listen to it in the first place?

Maybe I'm over analyzing because it feels like I can simply turn the brain off when Daughter's on, but I'm somehow so fucking engaged with it, I feel guilty for not thinking thoughts while listening to it. 

But then there's the vulnerability. On "Doing the Right Thing", I don't feel dirty for wanting to stand still and let my eyes dry out from not blinking while I watch this woman disrobe, rather I feel that electrical charge of erotic energy because I'm obviously seeing what most don't get the chance to even imagine. The freedom of succumbing to this song is arousing, I don't know how else to say it. I'm both filled with lust and reverence, and I've never even considered what reverent lust might look like, but here, I know what it sounds like. It almost feels like I caught a glimpse of a friend's mom getting dressed and while, sure, I feel the itch from within disguised as an erection, I'm somehow forever and thankfully awed that I have the privelage to imagine such beauty when I eventually choose to run away, or she finally shuts the door on me. Yes, for those who don't understand, adolescent sexual experiences hold power in the mind of the one remembering and are to be respected, if not stoked on occasion.

On "How", I can't help but imagine in slow motion that scene in Flashdance where the girl is figure skating, and all you see is her on the ice illuminated by spotlights, and then she falls. The empowering lilt of just giving in feels appropriate whenever this song starts over for me. 

But perhaps the most personal nut punch I've experienced on Not to Disappear is on the song "Alone/With You". The fact that this song starts with her hating being alone, and then half way through it transforms into her hating being with you is unbelievably fucking powerful in my opinion. The constant ups and downs of a relationship are exactly as this song illustrates, and while I laughed the first time I heard "I should get a dog or something..." it's fucking true. Maybe the dog wouldn't fight back when you explain why you're hurt, maybe the dog wouldn't judge you for holding feelings you can't explain, maybe a dog would just shut the fuck up once in a while. 

I get it. I fucking get all of it. If you don't, you aren't looking at it in the right frame of mind. It's the musical version of wanting to be left alone but not wanting to be left alone alone. Leave me in this room alone, but don't walk out the fucking door and actually leave me the fuck alone. 

I get it. 

This album fucking gets me. I get this fucking album.

I wish I could hold your attention long enough to dissect each song, but I think that would be doing you a disservice because you're going to have to explain why all of these songs make you feel the way you feel to yourself eventually. I can't help you do that. 

I just encourage you to spend a few hours alone with this album on repeat before the world thaws. 

Daughter, beautiful.