DofStC is a band from Madison WI. We arrogantly describe ourselves as "a doomy Big Black" or "Godflesh playing Codeine songs". In reality, we're just two post-punk vets (ex-Tyranny Is Tyranny, United Sons of Toil, Droids Attack, Poor Man's Therapy) playing noisy slowcore. Drum-machine-driven rigidity and tension fuels heavy, unforgiving songs of lament. It's deliberate minimalism — avoidant and restricted — with extended passages of strangled tremolo picking and polished, effects-coated bitterness.
This is doom laden, molten slow core from a Madison WI drum’n’guitar duo, and no, it’s not for the easily squeamish! Following the trajectory of similarly-minded ensembles such as Swans, Shellac, and Godflesh, DofStC’s aim is to sonically suck every last molecule of breathable air out of the room—except for one! With titles like “A Woman Crying In Her Car,” “Debt Grief,” and “What You Own, Owns You,” you get a sense that their nihilism comes from a very honest place, and the music makes that clear. Hails, dudes! You have a special place in Valhalla coming with this type of evil that you’re thrusting on the unsuspecting public. More, please! — The Big Takeover #89
The opening track of Daughters Of Saint Crispin's debut EP, “Ex-Spies,” clocks in at just under 7 minutes, introducing us to the duo's sparse and refined approach to doom and post-hardcore. Driven by Madison post-punk and metal veterans Russell Hall and Pete Leonard, this music is a menacing, foreboding machine slowly clinking and crawling towards its victims. Replacing overly complex and technical doom with a drum machine and guitars that sound like a living rain cloud, Daughters Of Saint Crispin are fear personified. While the influence of Godlfesh and sludge-metal can leave tracks moving at a slow pace, a genre forte, the deliberate minimalism on the closing track “Head And Heart” is a skillfully crafted, slowly tightening noose. Halfway through the song, Hall's vocals screech through with a remorseful “Hold your head up high” again and again towards the end as their death march beats on. — Tone Madison