Daughters of the Sun

It is a proven fact: as the hair gets longer and the beards fuller,
shit gets more experimental. With Daughters of the Sun, multiple
drummers, one maraca-laden, led the crowd on a rhythm driven noise
escapade. Despite their mediocre name, DOTS are an impressive group.
Oscillators and other noise-making boxes worked their spastic noise
magic while nonsense was yelled into hyper effect-laden microphone,
making the members sound twelve miles away, under water, and on fire.
These guys broke from the retro-theme and brought the weird, hard.
Animal Collective-like songs built up with a bashing of hand drums and
guitars before retreating to a safe distance to allow the audience to
recover after each bout of mindfuckery. There’s a reason to let
everybody get a little drunk before these guys come on stage. As the
ebb and flow of noise swells and devolves one can’t but feel warmed,
which was welcome on the cold, overcast day. At its strangest, Eastern
mantras are accompanied by high register guitar pings and untimed
tambourine hits before once again regaining a distinguishable musical
skeleton and continuing to the next song. Imagine a hippy drum circle
without the obligatory disdain shown by every passerby then escalate
and amplify it. Last song “Rings” was the most epic thing heard all
day, preferring something personal and innovative, rather than
predictable and dancy. If people were dancing here, it was for
themselves, not for the band or the cute girl on the other side of the
room. These guys are modern psychedelic.