The First Record "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Style
Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a lodging near JFK airport, as the musician receives a devastating update of her father's illness diagnosis. This Sunderland-born artist was touring the US on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief casts a shadow, tinging all in grey. Faltering piano and hushed strings accompany gothic reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft vocals come across in a deadpan manner, while this album's intensity stems from her sharp penmanship—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—along with unexpected maximalism. Not many songs this year possess more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", which describes the killing of an animal and spirals toward a petrol-laden reckoning, evoking written works lit with glimpses of warped cello. Anxious, subdued sections with echoing, plucked guitar move into grand choruses, with Walton's voice digitally manipulated to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences may previously know the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and member in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect this varied career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, like an ensemble taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the BPM with an intense, beautiful, repeating percussion. Thick layers of audio, expertly mixed with a long-term collaborator, seem both rough and ethereal, and her morbid, enchanted thinking culminate in highlight "Lambs", a song that momentarily transforms into a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with heart-aching dark comedy.
