REVIEW: The Callous Daoboys – Celebrity Therapist [2022]
Artist: The Callous Daoboys
Album: Celebrity Therapist
Usually when I start a review, I try to draw you—the reader—in somehow. Maybe a cool analogy to the band’s name, or a little personal anecdote about some of the record’s major themes. Maybe I go with the ol’ tried-and-true: the Merriam-Webster definition of Abnegate or some other cool word that might be part of an album title.
When it comes to The Callous Daoboys and their anticipated full length release Celebrity Therapist, none of that shit is really going to fly. It’s hard to try and match a name like The Callous Daoboys on the grounds of absurdity or engagement, and Celebrity Therapist covers far too much ground (eccentric and otherwise) to try and relate to personally in under three-to-five sentences—and then there’s the issue that I don’t think Merriam or Webster could come up with a word that matches this mathy act in intensity and insanity. So where does that leave us?
Well, with Celebrity Therapist, a record that manages to be both archetypal and redefining of mathcore as a genre. A cacophonous amalgam of blistering brutality, mind-numbing technicality and neck-snapping twists out of far-left field, Celebrity Therapist sees The Callous Daoboys emerge as perhaps one of the genre’s first newcomers with a level shot at rising to the level of notoriety, influence and excellence as acts like Botch or The Dillinger Escape Plan.
If you’ve heard the saying (or been told to) “get comfortable being uncomfortable,” then you’re close to understanding the experience The Callous Daoboys have in store with Celebrity Therapist. The record is an ever-changing soundscape, thoroughly unpredictable yet not so dense that it isn’t fun and engaging. As a matter of fact, many songs—like the raunchy album closer “Star Baby” or “What is Delicious? Who Swarms?”—are catchier than the trendiest novel Coronavirus variant. The band manage to expertly balance some of the more supremely spastic and chaotic elements abundant against sing-a-long passages and marvelously melodic moments both to make sure the listener doesn’t have a damn clue what’s coming next—but that they are singing along with whatever is happening in the moment. Other songs—like “Violent Astrology” are scathing and uncompromising in their aggression, refusing to let the listener have even a moment of reprieve. Here, spastic riffs segue into and out of bone crushing breakdowns—even as the track melts into “Beautiful Dude Missile,” another song where The Callous Daoboys are at their most reckless and ruthless.
Where the band earn special praise, however, is with the ominously named “Title Track,” which, while a contender for least heavy song on Celebrity Therapist is also a strong contender for the best single song of 2022. Bookended by chaotic brutality, the lion’s share of “Title Track” is a slow, ambient build to a stunning display of melody and harmony with several lines that are bound to stay stuck in the listener’s head for days (“your bank account doesn’t care if your friend dies” being a personal favorite). Here, The Callous Daoboys take a style that often serves as a fleeting segment in many of their more complicated and dizzying numbers and expand it into an entire experience on its own—something few bands do, and even fewer bands are capable of doing well. Fear not—fellow breakdown junkies will still get their chugs on this track, I would just venture to say that the (incredible) breakdown is arguably the least important portion of Celebrity Therapist’s “Title Track.”
To speak on the expertise in the vocals and lyrics in “Title Track” truly deserves to be expanded to the entire album. Celebrity Therapist is home to an immense array of vocal stylings—a great many of them coming from frontman Carson Pace. Pace’s work to ensure that every song is both memorable and catchy doesn’t go unrewarded—where songs like “Violent Astrology” feature stunning dynamism and lyrics like “You’re not John Wick, you LARPing fuck” that resound over a dismal, smothering breakdown, other songs—like the aforementioned “Title Track,” or the beautiful hook within “What Is Delicious? Who Swarms”—see Pace pay equal attention to his singing register. Even the closing section of “Star Baby,” an otherwise sassy and spazzy mathcore cut features an anthemic, climactic closing hook that I don’t think has left my head since the first time it graced my ears. This all serves as a testament to Pace’s skill and creative, but also that of all of those out of this impressive septet (octet? I swear I have a shirt that says 8-piece) who assist with vocals on Celebrity Therapist.
I didn’t know what to expect from The Callous Daoboys. I didn’t spend that much time with Die on Mars when it came out (unsure why–its a strong record, maybe I’m just dumb), but even if I had, I don’t think I could have possibly known what Celebrity Therapist would hold—or that it would be one of my favorite records of the year. Unapologetic, uncompromising and unpredictable throughout its entirety, Celebrity Therapist is absolutely something any fan of music—heavy or otherwise—should take for a spin at least once (if not many more times than that).
10/10
For Fans Of: The Dillinger Escape Plan, Cryptodira, I Set My Friends on Fire, Duck Duck Goose
By: Connor Welsh
