Jennifer Walton's Debut Record "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Elegance
Within the track "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a hotel room close to JFK airfield, as the musician receives the devastating news that her dad has cancer discovery. The Sunderland-born artist was traveling the US on her initial visit, playing alongside indie band Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly sadness casts a shadow, tinging all with melancholy. Faltering keys and soft strings accompany dark dispatches emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft singing are delivered with a flat style, while the record's intensity arises from the sharp penmanship—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and direct personal notes—along with unexpected rich textures. Not many songs this year possess stronger novelistic flair than "Shelly", which depicts the killing of an animal and spirals into a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary pieces illuminated by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, subdued sections with echoing, plucked guitar move to grand refrains, with her vocals electronically altered to become something all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences might previously know Walton as a music creator, DJ, and contributor to bands like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect this diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with fanfare, as if a string band taken by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" radically increases the tempo via a punishing, beautiful, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, skillfully mixed by a longtime collaborator, feel both rough and spiritual, and her morbid, magical thoughts culminate on highlight "Lambs", which momentarily transforms into a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, exuding heart-aching dark comedy.
