Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Style
In the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves in a hotel room near JFK airfield, as Jennifer Walton receives the devastating news that her dad has illness discovery. This Sunderland-born artist was traveling the US for the first time, playing alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly sadness takes over, tinging all in grey. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration underscore gothic reports emanating from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft singing are delivered with a flat manner, yet this album's intensity stems from her keen writing—mixing fiction, folksy sayings, and direct diary entries—along with surprising rich textures. Not many songs recently showcase more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", a piece that describes the killing of a deer and spirals into a fuel-soaked confrontation, evoking literary pieces illuminated by flickers of distorted cello. Anxious, subdued verses featuring echoing, plucked strings transition to expansive choruses, with her voice digitally manipulated into a presence omniscient and sinister.
Listeners might previously know the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' musical twists draw on her varied career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, like a string band caught unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM via an intense, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Dense walls of sound, skillfully produced with a long-term partner, feel at once rough and spiritual, while her morbid, magical thinking peak on standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily transforms into a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with heart-aching dark comedy.
