Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Explores Grief and Elegance

Within the song "Miss America", listeners are placed inside a lodging close to JFK airport, where Jennifer Walton receives the devastating update that her dad has cancer diagnosis. This Sunderland-born artist was touring the US on her initial visit, drumming with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief casts a shadow, coloring everything with melancholy. Faltering piano and soft orchestration underscore gothic dispatches from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's gentle vocals are delivered with a deadpan manner, yet the album's tension stems from her keen writing—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—along with surprising rich textures. Not many songs this year possess stronger storytelling style than "Shelly", which depicts the killing of a deer and spirals into a petrol-laden confrontation, evoking literary works illuminated by glimpses of distorted cello. Tense, subdued verses with resonating, plucked strings move into expansive choruses, with her voice digitally manipulated to become something all-knowing and sinister.

Audiences may previously be familiar with the artist from her work as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and member in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with flourish, like a string band taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo with an intense, stunning, looping drum fill. Thick walls of sound, expertly mixed with a longtime partner, feel at once rough and spiritual, and Walton's morbid, enchanted thinking culminate in standout "Lambs", which briefly transforms into a swirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, with heart-aching gallows humor.