The Debut Album "Daughters" Explores Sorrow and Style
In the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton learns a heartbreaking update of her father's illness discovery. This UK-raised performer had been traveling the US on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly grief takes over, coloring all with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed strings underscore gothic reports from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Walton's soft singing come across with a flat manner, yet this album's tension stems from the sharp writing—blending stories, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—along with surprising rich textures. Not many songs this year possess stronger storytelling style than "Shelly", which depicts the death of a deer and descends toward a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of written works lit by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, quiet sections with echoing, strummed guitar move to grand choruses, with Walton's voice digitally manipulated to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences may previously know Walton as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and member to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" erupts in flourish, as if a string band caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the tempo via an intense, beautiful, looping drum fill. Thick walls of sound, expertly mixed by a longtime collaborator, seem at once rough and ethereal, and Walton's morbid, magical thoughts culminate in standout "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a twirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, exuding heart-aching dark comedy.
