Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Style
Within the track "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a hotel room close to JFK airport, where the musician learns a heartbreaking update of her father's illness discovery. The Sunderland-born artist had been traveling America for the first time, playing alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly sadness takes over, tinging all in grey. Faltering keys and hushed strings underscore dark reports from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft vocals come across in a deadpan style, while this album's tension arises from her sharp writing—mixing stories, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—coupled with surprising rich textures. Few songs this year showcase more potent novelistic style than "Shelly", which depicts the death of an animal and spirals into a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary works lit by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, subdued sections with resonating, plucked strings transition to grand choruses, with her voice digitally manipulated into a presence all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences might previously know the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor to bands like Caroline. The album's musical twists reflect her varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with fanfare, as if a string band caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the BPM with a punishing, beautiful, repeating percussion. Dense walls of sound, expertly produced by a long-term partner, feel at once gnarly and ethereal, and her morbid, enchanted thoughts culminate on standout "Lambs", which briefly transforms into a twirling jig. "May your life never end in death," Walton bargains, with poignant dark comedy.