Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style
In the track "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton receives the devastating update of her father's cancer discovery. The UK-raised performer had been touring the US on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly grief takes over, tinging everything in grey. Faltering piano and hushed strings underscore dark reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Walton's soft singing are delivered with a deadpan manner, yet this album's intensity stems from her keen penmanship—mixing stories, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—along with unexpected maximalism. Not many tracks this year showcase stronger novelistic style compared to "Shelly", which depicts the death of a deer and descends into a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary works lit by flickers of distorted strings. Tense, subdued verses with resonating, plucked guitar move into grand choruses, and Walton's voice electronically altered into a presence all-knowing and sinister.
Listeners might already know the artist as a music creator, DJ, and member to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, as if a string band taken unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM via a punishing, stunning, repeating percussion. Thick layers of audio, skillfully produced by a longtime collaborator, feel both rough and spiritual, and her dark, enchanted thinking culminate in highlight "Lambs", a song that momentarily transforms into a swirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she pleads, with heart-aching dark comedy.
