🔗 Share this article

Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a hotel room near JFK airfield, as the musician receives a devastating news that her dad has illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born performer had been touring America on her initial visit, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly sadness takes over, tinging all with melancholy. Unsteady piano and hushed strings underscore gothic reports emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her gentle vocals are delivered with a deadpan style, while the album's tension stems from her sharp writing—blending stories, traditional phrases, and blunt diary entries—coupled with unexpected rich textures. Not many songs this year possess more potent novelistic flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of a deer and descends toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of written works illuminated with flickers of distorted cello. Tense, subdued verses featuring resonating, plucked guitar move to expansive choruses, with her voice electronically altered into something omniscient and sinister.

Listeners may previously know Walton as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with fanfare, as if a string band caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo with a punishing, stunning, looping drum fill. Dense layers of audio, skillfully mixed by a longtime partner, feel both gnarly and ethereal, while her dark, magical thinking culminate in standout "Lambs", a song that briefly becomes a swirling dance. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, with heart-aching dark comedy.