Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style
Within the song "Miss America", listeners are placed inside a hotel room close to JFK airport, where Jennifer Walton receives the devastating update of her father's cancer diagnosis. The Sunderland-born performer was touring the US on her initial visit, drumming alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief takes over, coloring everything in grey. Faltering keys and hushed orchestration underscore gothic dispatches emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Walton's soft singing come across in a deadpan manner, yet this album's intensity arises from her sharp penmanship—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—along with surprising maximalism. Few songs recently possess more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", which describes the killing of a deer and descends into a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary pieces illuminated by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, subdued verses featuring resonating, plucked strings transition to expansive refrains, and Walton's voice electronically altered to become something all-knowing and menacing.
Audiences might already know Walton from her work as a music creator, disc jockey, and member in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her diverse career. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in flourish, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the BPM with a punishing, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Thick layers of audio, expertly mixed by a long-term collaborator, seem both gnarly and spiritual, and her morbid, magical thoughts peak in highlight "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, with poignant dark comedy.