Jennifer Walton's First Record "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style

Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airfield, as the musician receives the devastating news that her dad has illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist was traveling America for the first time, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly grief takes over, coloring all with melancholy. Unsteady piano and hushed strings underscore dark reports from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Her soft singing come across with a deadpan manner, while this album's intensity stems from the keen writing—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and direct personal notes—coupled with surprising rich textures. Not many songs recently possess stronger storytelling style than "Shelly", a piece that describes the death of an animal and spirals toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary pieces lit by flickers of warped cello. Tense, subdued sections featuring echoing, plucked strings transition to grand refrains, and her voice digitally manipulated to become something omniscient and menacing.

Audiences might previously know Walton as an electronic producer, DJ, and member to bands like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists draw on this varied career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the tempo via an intense, beautiful, repeating percussion. Thick layers of audio, expertly mixed by a long-term collaborator, feel both gnarly and ethereal, and Walton's dark, magical thinking culminate in highlight "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a swirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with poignant gallows humor.