Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Style

In the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a hotel room near JFK airfield, as Jennifer Walton receives a devastating update of her father's cancer diagnosis. The UK-raised artist had been traveling the US for the first time, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief casts a shadow, tinging everything with melancholy. Faltering keys and hushed strings underscore gothic dispatches from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Her gentle vocals come across in a flat manner, while this record's intensity arises from the sharp writing—mixing stories, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—along with unexpected maximalism. Few tracks this year showcase stronger novelistic style than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of an animal and descends into a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary works illuminated with flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, quiet verses with resonating, strummed strings move to grand refrains, and her vocals digitally manipulated to become something omniscient and sinister.

Listeners might already be familiar with Walton as a music creator, DJ, and member in groups such as Caroline. The album's sonic turns draw on her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts with flourish, like a string band caught unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the BPM with an intense, beautiful, looping percussion. Dense layers of audio, skillfully produced by a longtime partner, feel both gnarly and ethereal, while her dark, magical thinking peak in highlight "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, with poignant dark comedy.