Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style
In this song "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a hotel room close to JFK airport, as the musician receives a heartbreaking update of her father's cancer discovery. The Sunderland-born performer was traveling the US on her initial visit, drumming alongside indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly sadness casts a shadow, coloring everything with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed strings underscore dark reports emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Walton's gentle singing are delivered with a flat manner, yet this album's tension arises from her sharp penmanship—blending stories, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—along with unexpected rich textures. Not many tracks this year showcase more potent storytelling flair compared to "Shelly", a piece that describes the killing of a deer and descends into a petrol-laden confrontation, evoking literary pieces illuminated with flickers of distorted cello. Tense, quiet sections with resonating, strummed strings move into expansive choruses, and her vocals digitally manipulated to become a presence omniscient and sinister.
Listeners may already know the artist as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect this varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in flourish, like a string band caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo via a punishing, beautiful, looping drum fill. Dense walls of sound, expertly mixed with a long-term collaborator, seem both gnarly and spiritual, and her dark, enchanted thoughts culminate in standout "Lambs", which briefly becomes a swirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with poignant dark comedy.
