Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Explores Grief and Style
Within the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a hotel room near JFK airfield, as Jennifer Walton learns a devastating update that her dad has illness discovery. This UK-raised artist was traveling America on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly sadness casts a shadow, coloring everything in grey. Faltering keys and hushed orchestration accompany gothic reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft vocals are delivered with a flat style, while this album's tension arises from her keen penmanship—mixing stories, folksy sayings, and direct personal notes—along with unexpected maximalism. Few songs recently showcase stronger storytelling style than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the killing of a deer and spirals toward a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary works illuminated by flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, quiet verses with resonating, strummed strings move into grand refrains, with Walton's vocals electronically altered to become a presence omniscient and sinister.
Listeners might already know the artist as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect this diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, like an ensemble taken by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the BPM with an intense, beautiful, looping drum fill. Dense layers of audio, expertly produced by a long-term partner, feel both gnarly and ethereal, and her morbid, magical thoughts culminate on highlight "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a twirling jig. "May your life never end in death," Walton bargains, exuding heart-aching dark comedy.
