Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Explores Sorrow and Style

Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a lodging close to JFK airfield, where the musician receives a devastating update of her father's illness diagnosis. This UK-raised performer was touring America on her initial visit, drumming alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly sadness casts a shadow, tinging all in grey. Unsteady piano and soft orchestration underscore dark dispatches emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her soft singing come across in a flat style, while this album's tension arises from the sharp penmanship—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and direct personal notes—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many tracks this year possess more potent novelistic style compared to "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of a deer and descends into a fuel-soaked confrontation, reminiscent of literary pieces lit by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, subdued sections featuring resonating, strummed guitar move to expansive choruses, with Walton's voice electronically altered into a presence all-knowing and sinister.

Audiences may previously know the artist as an electronic producer, DJ, and member in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with flourish, like an ensemble taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the BPM via an intense, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Dense walls of sound, skillfully mixed by a longtime partner, seem at once gnarly and spiritual, while her dark, enchanted thoughts culminate on standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with poignant gallows humor.