Jennifer Walton's Debut Album "Daughters" Delves Into Grief and Style
In the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves in a lodging near JFK airport, where Jennifer Walton receives a heartbreaking news of her father's cancer discovery. This UK-raised performer was traveling America on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly grief casts a shadow, coloring everything in grey. Faltering piano and soft orchestration accompany gothic dispatches emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."
Her gentle singing are delivered with a flat manner, yet the album's intensity stems from the keen writing—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—coupled with surprising maximalism. Not many songs this year showcase more potent storytelling flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of an animal and descends into a fuel-soaked confrontation, reminiscent of literary pieces illuminated with flickers of warped cello. Tense, quiet verses featuring resonating, strummed strings move into grand choruses, with her vocals electronically altered to become a presence omniscient and sinister.
Listeners may already know Walton as a music creator, DJ, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists draw on her varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, like an ensemble caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM with an intense, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Thick layers of audio, skillfully produced by a long-term collaborator, feel both gnarly and ethereal, while her morbid, enchanted thinking peak in highlight "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a swirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, exuding heart-aching gallows humor.
