The First Record "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Elegance

Within the song "Miss America", audiences are placed in a hotel room close to JFK airport, as the musician learns the heartbreaking update that her dad has cancer discovery. The UK-raised artist was traveling the US for the first time, playing alongside indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief takes over, tinging all with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration accompany gothic reports emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her gentle vocals are delivered in a deadpan style, yet this record's intensity arises from the sharp penmanship—mixing fiction, folksy sayings, and direct personal notes—coupled with surprising rich textures. Not many songs this year possess stronger storytelling flair than "Shelly", which depicts the death of a deer and descends toward a petrol-laden confrontation, evoking literary pieces illuminated with flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, quiet sections with resonating, strummed guitar move to grand refrains, and Walton's voice digitally manipulated into something omniscient and menacing.

Listeners might already know the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse career. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with flourish, like a string band caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the tempo via an intense, stunning, looping drum fill. Dense layers of audio, skillfully produced by a long-term partner, feel at once rough and ethereal, and Walton's morbid, magical thoughts peak on highlight "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a twirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, exuding poignant gallows humor.