Jennifer Walton's Debut Record "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Elegance

Within the song "Miss America", listeners are placed in a hotel room near JFK airfield, where the musician receives the devastating update that her dad has illness diagnosis. The UK-raised performer was traveling the US for the first time, playing alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief takes over, coloring everything in grey. Faltering keys and soft orchestration accompany dark dispatches from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's gentle singing come across in a deadpan style, yet this album's intensity arises from the sharp writing—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and direct personal notes—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many songs this year possess stronger storytelling flair compared to "Shelly", which depicts the death of a deer and descends toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of written works illuminated with glimpses of distorted strings. Tense, quiet verses featuring resonating, strummed guitar transition into expansive choruses, and Walton's voice electronically altered to become something omniscient and sinister.

Audiences might already be familiar with Walton as an electronic producer, DJ, and member in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse career. The opener "Sometimes" bursts with flourish, like an ensemble caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" radically increases the tempo with a punishing, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Thick layers of audio, expertly produced by a longtime collaborator, feel both rough and ethereal, while her morbid, magical thinking peak in highlight "Lambs", which momentarily transforms into a twirling dance. "May your life never end in death," Walton pleads, with poignant dark comedy.