Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Explores Sorrow and Style
In the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airport, as the musician learns a heartbreaking update that her dad has illness discovery. The Sunderland-born artist was traveling America for the first time, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly sadness takes over, tinging all with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed strings accompany dark reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Her gentle vocals come across with a deadpan manner, yet this record's tension arises from her sharp penmanship—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and blunt diary entries—coupled with unexpected rich textures. Few tracks recently showcase stronger storytelling flair than "Shelly", which describes the death of an animal and descends into a fuel-soaked confrontation, evoking written works lit with flickers of warped strings. Anxious, quiet sections with resonating, plucked guitar move to expansive refrains, with her voice electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences might previously be familiar with Walton as an electronic producer, DJ, and contributor to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" bursts with flourish, as if an ensemble caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo with a punishing, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Dense walls of sound, expertly mixed with a long-term partner, feel at once gnarly and spiritual, and her morbid, enchanted thoughts peak on highlight "Lambs", which momentarily becomes a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, with poignant gallows humor.