I’ve procrastinated writing this review for so long it’s embarrassing. I’ve had this album in my inbox for a month, weeping with joy and wonder at its

a month ago

I’ve procrastinated writing this review for so long it’s embarrassing. I’ve had this album in my inbox for a month, weeping with joy and wonder at its very existence. You see, when young Atlanta mathcore institution The Callous Daoboys dropped Die On Mars in 2019, I saw the gates of heaven thrown wide and bathed in the resplendence. You could have told me they snatched the trumpets right out of the angels’ clumsy, incomprehensible little fingers and shoved them right up their own asses to record that fucking record Monty Python style and I’d have nodded and said, “Yeah, that tracks. Now put ‘Blackberry Delorean’ back on, I’m fucking moshing.”

Needless to say, I have a bit of a soft spot for the old Daoboys. Since Die On Mars, they’ve added even more members, gunning to become the first full human snowball by LP4. I’ve also managed to miss seeing them live twice despite buying tickets, which I am taking as a sign that I am forever cursed to be their most devoted cuckold. I’m not taking it very well, but thank you for asking. Celebrity Therapist is a suitable salve to heal my broken heart though, considering it’s about to become the most pivotal cornerstone of the post-Dillinger landscape. You have not heard a record like this before, nor are you prepared to.

I’ve sung Carson Pace’s praises a thousand times in other columns and articles, but the only way I can now describe them is if the spirit of Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez both possessed the body of an unassuming ginger from Georgia. This is the great mind of this generation of music. Full stop. What we have on our hands with Celebrity Therapist is an album that is terrifying in the most exciting way as a fan, because it’s clearly just another transitional album expected of sophomore releases but manages to be so casually monumental in the process it’s actually mind boggling. You can tell this isn’t all they have in the tank. This is the Daoboys just starting to really dig into their own sound, and these are the first bites – except we’re at a Michelin star restaurant in mathcore hell and the chef is railing K and busting out the chemistry set.

That isn’t to say it’s all balls-to-the-wall mayhem. Quite the contrary, actually. The pre-release singles are very much the tip of the iceberg. With songs like “Title Track” and “Field Sobriety Test”, we’re treated to the Daoboy take on alt-rock anthems and skramzy swancore, but it’s finale “Star Baby” that takes the ultimate cake. Nothing feels more quintessentially Daoboys than a song that starts off with the best Dire Straits and The Number Twelve Looks Like You worship you’ve ever heard before devolving into a huge fucking singalong complete with blaring brass, cello, and piano rocking. What an incredible record all around. To say I’ve been eagerly awaiting this release since the second I stopped spinning Die On Mars (joke’s on you I never did) would be a massive understatement. Celebrity Therapist was my most anticipated album of the entire year. It not only exceeded, but completely demolished my expectations in every regard. If you don’t give it at least a cursory spin out of curiosity, you’re out of your fucking mind.

Daoboys forever, baby.

Celebrity Therapist is out tomorrow on MNRK Heavy. Huffing paint thinner makes you invincible.

Calder Dougherty

Published a month ago