Jennifer Walton's First Record "Daughters" Explores Grief and Style
Within this track "Miss America", audiences are placed inside a hotel room near JFK airfield, where the musician receives a devastating update that her dad has illness diagnosis. This Sunderland-born artist was traveling America for the first time, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly sadness takes over, coloring everything in grey. Faltering piano and hushed strings underscore gothic reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Walton's soft singing come across in a flat manner, yet this album's intensity stems from the sharp penmanship—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and blunt diary entries—along with unexpected rich textures. Not many tracks this year showcase more potent novelistic flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of a deer and descends toward a fuel-soaked confrontation, reminiscent of written pieces illuminated by glimpses of distorted cello. Anxious, subdued sections featuring echoing, strummed guitar transition into grand choruses, with her voice electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences might already know the artist as an electronic producer, DJ, and contributor to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect her diverse career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, like a string band caught unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo via a punishing, beautiful, looping drum fill. Thick layers of audio, skillfully mixed by a long-term collaborator, seem at once rough and spiritual, and her dark, magical thoughts peak on standout "Lambs", which momentarily transforms into a twirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, with heart-aching dark comedy.
