Review Summary: Welcome to The Museum of Failures
Before you is a collection of eleven pieces created by the Callous Daoboys 300 years ago. Though we don’t know much about the artists who created them, we know that this collection, aptly titled
I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven, follows two previous exhibitions from the artists, the full collection of
Celebrity Therapist and the shorter display of
God Smiles Upon the Callous Daoboys. From what remains of these forgotten displays, historians have said the new collection shares a lot of the features of their prior collections, yet the individual pieces are much more ambitious and wackier than the predecessors. Some believe that this is the reason why
I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven was lost for so long, now finding its place in The Museum of Failures. However, Carson Pace, Daoboys historian who helped construct the exhibition, recently brought up a rather argument about the collection: can something truly be a failure if it survives forever?
While many of the remnants of the previous collections have been lost, I’ve been able to collect some opinions from historians and fanatics who obsess over the identity of the Callous Daoboys. From what I gathered, I was able to piece together that
God Smiles Upon the Callous Daoboys was a bit more of an experimental approach to their artistry than what was present on their previous collection
Celebrity Therapist. They still maintained their zany artistry while experimenting more with disjointed song structures and more melodic focus with catchy hooks and refrains.
I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven feels like a refined and fleshed out version of what historians claimed
God Smiles Upon… was. While the basic framework of the Daoboys is still ever present in the collection, every individual piece brings something new to the table, making you question why it was ever considered a failure to begin with.
Many of the pieces here still lean heavily into the chaotic mathy style, with “The Demon of Unreality Limping Like A Dog” and “Idiot Temptation Force” feeling like an ugly one-two punch of aggression in the collection. Other pieces like “Schizophrenia Legacy” and “Douchebag Safari” blend their abrasive core style with softer breaks that feel so disjointed from the rest of the piece that it gives a start-stop structure that keeps the collection unpredictable. Some pieces sound like safe yet catchy creations that capture the newfound emphasis in melodic composition in “Two-Headed Trout” and “Distracted by the Mona Lisa,” yet they feel more ambitious and successful than the scraps I had heard from what remains of the
God Smiles Upon… collection. As you dig deeper into the collection, there is some rather shocking stuff from the Daoboys that even have historians surprised by what they uncovered. “Lemon” is a straight up pop song, with acoustic guitars guiding the melodies of the track with a catchy earworm of a chorus. This is immediately followed up by an even mellower “Body Horror for Birds” that resembles a bit of bossa nova saturated in reverb and atmosphere with a feature from a contemporary artist of the Daoboys, 1ST VOWS, that is truly a breath of fresh air in the midst of the chaos.
There’s so much in the collection to peruse, yet we haven’t even gotten to the highlight of the exhibition. The true ending of the Museum of Failure’s prized possession. It’s raw, it’s real, it’s all over the place – it’s “Country Song In Reverse.” Spanning nearly 12 minutes, this final piece resembles every bit of what the Callous Daoboys stand for. It mixes all their mellow sections, intense breakdown sections, genre bending, and climatic endings into a final reflection of their failure. Some notes in the collection brochure say that the artists went out of their way to include a hometown screamo band, and they match the raw emotion expressed throughout. It’s disjointed and confusing, but isn’t that what this collection is all about? I’m not sure I can truly explain what it is, but this final piece ties all of
I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven together, and it really makes you reflect on Pace’s aforementioned comment. We may never know the true identity of the Callous Daoboys, but why was this ever considered a failure?
The exhibition is a journey into personal rumination and all the pain that comes with self-reflection; every heartbreak, every failure, every wrongdoing that led to the creation of these pieces. I feel bad for everyone who didn’t appreciate what this collection was 300 years ago. It’s a mystery why it was a failure, but clearly it’s not a failure anymore. Forever immortalized by the Museum of Failure’s,
I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven doesn’t need an identity attached; the collection is already emotional and personal on its own. But now, as we look back on who the Callous Daoboys may have been, we can learn to appreciate what was lost in the past and embrace the power of what historians have been able to restore, only to hope that more Daoboys relics will be discovered in the future.
