After
listening to Daughter for approximately 12 seconds, I jumped the gun and got
excited that, in lead singer Elena Tonra, we had another Florence Welch on our
hands. They’re both British. They both sing in a haunting manner. I assumed
that Elena Tonra also made use of majestic, flowing hand gestures on stage (she doesn’t;
she plays the guitar). But about three songs into their debut album, If You Leave, it became clear that instead
of the Florence Effect – that thing where after listening to a lot of Florence
and the Machine you kind of just want to run through the forest in the middle
of the night – something else was going on.
In this
frenzied, chaotic world, Daughter possesses an especially soothing, enchanting
sound that slows things down. So there’s the Florence Effect and now the
Daughter Effect: that thing where after listening to If You Leave you kind of just want to wander through the forest in
the middle of the night, spinning around slowly yet flamboyantly, with or
without an intention of ever coming out. Now, I’m not the kind of person who
would do something like that. I recently bought a light blue cell phone case,
which is probably the most flamboyant thing I’ve done in the past five or six
years. But for those of you who are slightly more free-spirited, I’d imagine
the Daughter Effect will be profound.
So, okay. We’ve talked about the sonic impact of the album, but since I’ve
mentioned frolicking through the woods so much that it’s probably starting to
get weird, let’s talk about what Daughter is really trying to say. The name of
the album is called If You Leave and,
based on the lyrics throughout, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that
Elena Tonra isn’t planning on continuing that sentence with something like “would
you be a lamb and stop at the store for some milk” or “could you be sure to latch
the door all the way because sometimes it sticks.” This shit is depressing. On “Youth,”
which is a good example of that enchanting, soothing sound I was talking about,
there are lines like “Well I’ve lost it all/I’m just a silhouette/A lifeless
face that you’ll soon forget” and “Setting fire to our insides for fun/To
distract our hearts from ever missing them/But I’m forever missing him,” and
things become confusing.
If You Leave is a collection of
bottled-up emotions, delivered to us in a pretty ambivalent manner. I was
waiting for everything to come to a head; I wanted her to test that vocal range
and just let it all out in one triumphant bellow. But that never happens.
Instead, she wants us to listen to her collection of dark thoughts with dreamy,
ambient music playing in the background, as if it’s up to us to decide if she’s
just starting to feel pain or just starting to get over it. The single-word
song titles of If You Leave are no accident: This album is purposely vague, and we are supposed to do with it
what we want.
Whenever you
have the opportunity to work Eminem into a discussion about an English indie
folk band, you just have to take it. He famously rapped that “music can alter
moods and talk to you,” which is exactly what’s happening here. If you are in a
good place, you might find the lazy, spacey music a playful contrast to the
kind-of-twisted, beautifully-sung lyrics. If you are not in a good place, If You Leave may offer solace; after
hearing things like “I sometimes wish I’d stayed inside/My mother/Never to come
out” off the second track, “Smother,” you may smile, knowing that you’ve maybe
gained some perspective.
Grade: B
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