Jennifer Walton's Debut Record "Daughters" Explores Grief and Style

In the track "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airport, where Jennifer Walton receives a heartbreaking news that her dad has illness discovery. The UK-raised performer had been traveling the US on her initial visit, drumming alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly grief takes over, coloring all in grey. Faltering piano and soft orchestration accompany dark reports from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's gentle vocals come across in a flat style, while this record's intensity stems from the keen writing—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and direct diary entries—coupled with surprising rich textures. Few tracks this year possess more potent storytelling flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the killing of an animal and descends toward a fuel-soaked reckoning, reminiscent of written works lit with flickers of distorted cello. Tense, subdued sections with resonating, strummed guitar transition into expansive refrains, with her voice electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.

Audiences might previously be familiar with Walton as a music creator, DJ, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists draw on this diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, as if a string band taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the tempo with a punishing, stunning, looping drum fill. Dense layers of audio, skillfully produced with a longtime collaborator, feel at once gnarly and spiritual, and Walton's morbid, enchanted thoughts culminate in standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with heart-aching dark comedy.