The Debut Record "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style
In the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a hotel room near JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton receives a heartbreaking update that her dad has illness diagnosis. The UK-raised artist had been traveling America on her initial visit, playing alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief takes over, tinging all in grey. Unsteady piano and soft strings accompany dark reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Walton's gentle vocals are delivered in a deadpan manner, yet this record's intensity stems from her sharp writing—blending stories, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Few tracks this year showcase stronger novelistic style compared to "Shelly", a piece that depicts the killing of a deer and descends toward a fuel-soaked confrontation, reminiscent of written pieces illuminated by flickers of distorted cello. Tense, subdued verses featuring resonating, strummed guitar move to grand refrains, with her voice electronically altered to become something all-knowing and sinister.
Listeners may previously be familiar with the artist from her work as a music creator, DJ, and contributor to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with flourish, like an ensemble taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the tempo with a punishing, beautiful, repeating percussion. Thick walls of sound, skillfully produced by a long-term collaborator, seem both gnarly and spiritual, while her dark, enchanted thoughts culminate in highlight "Lambs", which momentarily transforms into a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, exuding heart-aching gallows humor.
