On the surface, and judging by their previous work, London three-piece seem a simple proposition; guitars, bass, keys and drums, adding a sparsely built framework to the haunting desolate words of Elena Tonra.

But as you listen and submerge yourself in the Daughter sound, the intricacies and subtleties of the band become apparent, unfolding and making themselves welcome. For some it is an immediate affiliation, for others, music's beauty takes longer to reveal itself. And over time, from the stripped back guitar based debut EP His Young Heart to this, their second album, they have significantly expanded their base palette, into a more expansive and adventurous music as they gain confidence in their abilities as songwriters and sound architects. They sound much bigger now, whilst retaining an intimacy that is their best calling card. Not To Disappear's overall sound seems to have been spurred via the input of co-producer Nicolas Vernhes, who helped bringing a different energy to the band. Whilst Not to Disappear sounds like If You Leave, there is no doubting the extra textures and more varied atmospherics of the new album.

And, as on If You Leave, longing, loneliness, quiet desperation, alienation and a sometimes disconnecting visceral honesty emanates from Tonra's pen and mouth. Winningly, she continues to veer away from self-loathing narcissism in her largely, but not exclusively, self-autobiographical stories and thoughts. Tonra just needs to get her worries, her innate sadness, and her angst, off her beating chest, even if it comes across as a little schizophrenic at times ("I hate walking, I should get a dog or something / I hate walking with you, talking with myself.") It sounds like she has little to hide, the results often unsettling in their straight forwardness and honesty. She rarely wraps up those deep and innermost thoughts in obfuscating metaphor… "I think the reason I write sad songs is that there is always a sadness to draw inspiration from. With everyone, there is a dark side to themselves. In every moment, there is a negative side. If I didn't write, and have a way to expel that, it could be self-destructive," she has explained.

"I'm trying to get off, and a subtle way out, not to cross myself out, and not just disappear," she sings on opener New Ways, a song that points in the general direction of where Tonra is headed, as she fights her way through the bleak sadness of thought that apparently inundates her everyday moods. With an increasingly versatile voice that at times recalls Elisabeth Fraser and Beth Gibbons, and at others the sing-talk style of a Suzanne Vega, Kim Deal or Bjork, Tonra may not have such a distinctive sound as the aforementioned, but she certainly has the personality and character to win over all but the most cynical of listeners.

Indeed, Not To Disappear is, for the most part, a beautiful marriage of honest lyricism and emotional musicality; from the Massive Attack style moodiness of openers New Ways and Numbers, to the glistening guitars of How, the tracks often layer up, flowing from a hushed intimacy to a euphoric rush of emotions, and all points in-between, underpinned by the superb guitar textures and lines of Igor Haefeli and classically trained drumming and percussion of Remi Aguilella, both of them using their instruments sparsely, and always respectful of the sentiments and moods expressed by Tonra. It is very much a band effort, all feeling and feeding off each other in the studio and on stage, where they have truly developed as a band, their lengthy passages of touring helping to ferment this new sound.

Occasionally, the music and singing can get too ponderous and downbeat, and so it is with relief that they venture into slightly more punkier waters, for instance on No Care, where Daughter let rip, so to speak, the manic drum patterns interspersed with an unusually upfront guitar line, and Tonra positively racing away with her voice. Nevertheless, it does contain Tonra's most startling lines: "There’s only been one time where we fucked, and I felt like a bad memory / Like my spine was a reminder of her, and you said you felt sick." And the near seven minute Fossa is for the most part a chugging indie rocker, that slowly builds into a blissfully rhythmic, foot tapping, head swishing piece that should work a treat on the live stage.

Album highlight Doing The Right Thing could have been seen as self-autobiographical if we didn't already know that it is about dementia, about Tonra's grandmother in particular. It's also a song about the fear of the future, losing children, and minds. It's a song that has been made into a brilliant short film by Iain Forsyth & Jane Pollard (directors of the Nick Cave film 20,000 Days on Earth). "Then I'll take my clothes off, and I'll walk around/because it's so nice outside / and I like the way the sun feels, and when its dark, I'll call out in the night for my mother / But she isn't coming back for me because she is already gone…"

Fans of Daughter should be pleased to hear that the intimate and dark intensity of their previous work hasn't been softened or watered down in the time they've been almost invariably on the road. In fact, Not To Disappear is richer and more intoxicating than before. It's a remarkable achievement for a band that had absolutely no plan or ambit beyond making music for themselves. And like many of the best bands, past and present, they've evolved organically, with little or no pretension. Daughter sound utterly natural, and yet otherworldly. Magical, in a word.

Jeff Hemmings

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