The First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Style

Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a hotel room near JFK airport, where Jennifer Walton receives a devastating news of her father's illness diagnosis. The UK-raised performer was touring the US for the first time, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief takes over, coloring all in grey. Faltering keys and hushed orchestration underscore dark dispatches from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Walton's soft singing are delivered with a deadpan style, yet the album's tension arises from the sharp penmanship—blending stories, traditional phrases, and blunt diary entries—coupled with surprising rich textures. Not many songs this year showcase more potent storytelling flair compared to "Shelly", which depicts the death of a deer and spirals into a fuel-soaked reckoning, reminiscent of written pieces lit by flickers of warped cello. Tense, quiet verses featuring echoing, strummed strings transition to expansive choruses, and her vocals digitally manipulated into something omniscient and menacing.

Audiences might already be familiar with Walton from her work as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect this diverse career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts with flourish, like an ensemble caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" radically increases the BPM with a punishing, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Thick walls of sound, skillfully mixed by a longtime partner, feel at once gnarly and spiritual, while her morbid, magical thoughts culminate on standout "Lambs", which momentarily becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, exuding heart-aching dark comedy.