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The Sounding Board

Silk Daisys make a good first impression with their self-titled debut

A weekly column where New Music Tuesdays live on. Conversation is encouraged in the comments.

Silk Daisys

Every Tuesday, the Sounding Board is a space for a short-ish review of a recent-ish release and conversations about new-to-you music. I’ll get things started with a write-up about a newer, likely under-heard album, and invite you to share your music musings in the comments.

I’m unsure whether Silk Daisys’ release date is an example of impeccable timing or self-sabotage. 

The self-titled debut LP from the Atlanta-based ‘80s acolytes arrived on December 5, the very beginning of a sizable fallow period for new music. While music never stops being made and released, typically from the beginning of December to the first week of the new year, the content firehose is more like a leaky spigot.1 That makes it the most wonderful time of the year to catch up on albums that didn’t crack your personal must-listen list, but seem like something you’d enjoy or take a flier on a scrappy-but-appealing project.2  A self-release from a duo3 that (accurately) describes itself as “For fans of The Cure, Lush, The Sundays, The Cranberries, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Primitives, The Darling Buds, and Cocteau Twins,” ticks those boxes for me. 

The trade-off is that by early December, most of the spaces that catalog and critique new music have already published their lists of best debuts and buried treasures that might have brought additional ears to Silk Daisys.4 It’s no sure thing that Silk Daisys would crack such lists. Still, it’s not hard to envision an album that competently and lovingly recreates the sounds Paisley Underground, jangle pop and shoegaze across 12 tight tracks, finding some champions among music critics. It’s a thoroughly enjoyable listen that oscillates between the heavier sounds of its influences and the gossamer-light textures of Silk Daisys’ more ethereal heroes.

Karla Jean Davis’ voice is capable of carrying a song in either mode, and principal songwriter James Abercrombie, who plays guitar, bass and synthesizer and sings on a few tracks too, does a great job setting Davis up for success. Abercrombie ably and faithfully channels alternative-rock subgenres without aping any particular band or sound.

“It’s A Laugh,” with its warm, jangly guitar and nursery rhyme-simple lyrics about love gone awry, sounds like a Bangles contemporary, not a direct rip. You can hear plenty of the Smiths and the Cure in “My Love,” especially in Abercrombie’s laconic vocals, but “oohh-la-la-la” backing vocals from Davis give it some unexpected sparkle that isn’t usually associated with either band’s sound.“Honeymilk,” an extremely on-the-nose homage to the Jesus and Mary Chain, is the exception to the no-pastiches rule. It’s a clear love letter to a great band that doesn’t suffer too much from comparison to its obvious inspiration, but it’s a misstep. Other tracks on Silk Daisys, like “Everybody Wants to Be My Baby,” make affection for the Reid brothers’ work apparent without being quite so blatant, and it’s bound to remind some listeners that they’d rather be listening to Psychocandy. It does mark the first incursion of noise into the album, which is important because track-by-track fluctuation in intensity winds up being its defining feature, but Silk Daisys are louder and better elsewhere.

“Nervous Wreck” with its steadfast bass and hot honey drips of ultra-buzzy guitar certainly qualifies. While the song affects shoegaze haze, Davis voice is kept relatively prominent in the mix. It’s a smart choice that’s at odds with some of the genre’s most famous practitioners but helps to define the song’s melody. It also plays up the interesting disconnect between Davis strong, laconic singing and the anxiety disorder-touched lyrics. Album-closer “Lights” is another bombastic highlight. It’s the album’s longest song and the only one to pair Silk Daisys moody mode with their rock’n’roll impulses.

“Lights” starts slow, sleepy and atmospheric. Abercrombie provides delicate, spacy guitar notes while Davis uses the second person and well-worn tropes to set the scene. The song’s protagonist is on the street, lit by neon, far from home and in a big city that’s much different from whatever backwater burg they escaped. This allows for a genuinely witty turn of phrase to illustrate how easy it is to be anonymous while feeling special: “You’re one in a million baby/ a face in the crowd.” While the song’s subject is described as a sweet daffodil, things don’t get any sunnier. A purse full of pills, a place of origins that’s no longer a home and solitude are all that life has to offer, and Davis delivers the bad news with appropriately operatic desperation. Abercrombie adds a suitably turbulent crunch to his playing, and for a moment the song threatens to boil over into something messy and scalding, but it subtly dissipates, and the previous porous guitar web returns. There’s no anguished solo, definitive ending, howls of madness or moment of catharsis, just the repeated dispensation of the bleak advice “don’t let them see you cry.”

It’s a stone-cold bummer, but it’s also surprising and commendable. Any work of art willing to end on such a dour note deserves credit for commitment to its convictions. That feels doubly true when the work in question can be understandably compared to the Dream Syndicate.

  1. A smattering of new releases is slated for the next couple of weeks, but expect to see landmark album reissues grabbing headlines on your music website of choice amid the paucity of quality new stuff. ↩︎
  2. In the past week, I finally got around to albums by Oklou, Smerz, Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band, Just Mustard and Dijon. It turns out, universally acclaimed music might be good. Just Mustard and Ryan Davis were the highlights for me. ↩︎
  3. While just two members comprise Silk Daisys, a few other people are credited with contributing to the album. This includes Damon Moon on drums and percussion and handclaps from Andrew Lawandus, Ora Abercrombie and Olive Abercrombie. ↩︎
  4. It’s absurd that year-end lists arrive as an early December deluge. It really only omits a couple of weeks of new releases, but there’s always at least one album that gets short thrift thanks to a late-year release date and few publications reliably incorporate 13-month-old music into their best-of lists. Plus, who wouldn’t love another couple of weeks to figure out what thoughts are percolating just below the surface, like the urge to attend clown college. ↩︎